Still Scribbling (keyboard style) Episode 5Becoming Super Rog!

February 1, 2025

Prepare to be amused (or annoyed; your choice)!

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A Place For Everything: The Heap

In the Before Times – before I was fat, bald, old, weak – I attended Clown College.

For that I journeyed from New Haven, Vermont to Blue Lake, California. I didn’t let poverty stop me from paying tuition and renting a room in a house with a bunch of clowns (literally), with $64 to spare and live on. 

For one year.

Our kitchen / dining area sported a blue shag carpet, as kitchens do. One day, the man who had rented the house – Frank God Breathing (his legal name, Hand To Frank) – said, “We should rent a vacuum to clean the house.”

Abhoring a vacuum (just like Nature) and finding such a drain on my paltry, non-existant resources disgraceful, I said, “We don’t need no vacuum cleaner; the floor’s not that dirty.”

Frank GB leaned down, rose back up, pinching a stone the size of a high school class ring.

A boy’s ring.

I guess I’ll never make my mark in this world as king of the cleaners.

I’m not a slob; I self-identify as having a high tolerance for chaos.

Which explains my writing desk, tables, chair, floor, washer, dryer. 

But don’t worry; I always know where anything I’ve written is (and I keep everything, you know, just to be safe).

I keep it all in The Heap.

My “Heap Method” (I need to trademark that before Big Tech swoops in, steals my system, creates a bestselling book; Healthy Heaping, and starts charging me every time I use my own Frank-damn system) is quite sophisticated, yet I feel confident anyone can learn how to use it.

In layman’s terms, you pile everything into a Heap. Hence the name (should I trademark “Heap” too? Probably).

Whatever you are looking for is in The Heap. 

Somewhere.

Thanks to The Heap being organized chronologically, if you are looking for, say, your eyeglasses, just ask yourself, “When was the last time I could see?” Then measure down from the top of the Heap (2 seconds ago) to the appropriate time period, and bada-bing, bada-bang, bada-boom: vision! 

Easy-peasy.

You can keep multiple Heaps (just one benefit of the simplicity of this system – you can make it as complicated as you like), or just use one massive Heap. Eventually, the Heap will mature from a single pile to multiple piles (assuming there is some type of roof or ceiling where you live / work), but the principle remains the same.

One obvious advantage to the Heap Method is that the bottom of the pile is composed of items you haven’t used, seen, or thought about for decades and so no longer need or even recognize – mysterious phone numbers scribbled on scraps, IRS warnings, unpaid overdue bills, lost pets (“How’d you get in here, Toby? Or Tony. Or whatever your name is”), socks long ago attempting escape – which you can now simply toss in the trash, or, for the environmentally conscious, recycling. With no guilt or worries.

Or move them to a new “Old Heap” – which is always the wise move. Because you never know, right?

If there is any flaw to “The Heap Method” – and I’m not saying there is – it’s that eventually your entire dwelling becomes so crammed full of crap you can’t use the bathroom. Or enter it. Or find it. Simple solution: dig down through the Heap until you find your wallet, find your keys (when was the last time I left the house?), wade your way to the front of your house, locate your vehicle (“When was the last time I saw the car?”), and drive away. 

Time for a new home, and new life, a new Heap.

Thank Frank!

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You Call That Progress?

Let’s Talk

As Valentine’s Day approaches (gentlemen, this is your 2 week warning), and month 2 of 2025 bursts onto the scene, it’s time for some housekeeping.

Don’t worry, not early spring cleaning, or Frozen February cleaning. I use the term “housekeeping” not literally (see essay above) but in the spirit of speakers everywhere when they explain where the exits are and end by requesting donations beyond whatever you already paid to attend whatever it is that you’re attending.

3 matters: Past, Present, Future.

PAST

I joined Anne Helmstedter's The Sellable Book Inner Circle 1.25 years ago. 

My goal was to write a memoir recounting my thrilling adventures as Super Rog, during the second year of Mount Abraham Union High School, “formed by cramming 800 students from 5 towns and 6 grades into a still-under-construction building,” when I shockingly decided to address Mt. Abe’s basketball losing streak. “Shocking” because I had NO basketball skills. Zero. Zilch. Zippo. “Shocking” because I decided to become a cheerleader – unofficial and uninvited. “Shocking” because – well, I ain’t gonna provide all the answers here (wait for: BECOMING SUPER ROG: Adventures of A Not-So-Superhero).

I learned a lot in The Sellable Book Inner Circle, most importantly, that I ain’t gonna write no memoryoire.

Instead, I’m composing a collection of essays on the same topic.

PRESENT

Turns out writing anything requires planning. We’re talking metric ton. Imperial ton. Shit ton.

Planning persists, while I also write essays. I’m not really sure how many essays I’ll need to end up with (there appears to be no answer to how many are needed), but I have definitely made progress and continue working with fellow writers and founder Anne in The Sellable Book Inner Circle.

FUTURE

Part of preparing for the future is training (let’s just pretend, for the purposes of this essay, that I AM “trainable”). I listened to an interview with Sue Campbell entitled, Avoiding the Pitfalls of Goal Getting. Sue’s central message was it’s not getting a goal that is most consequential, but instead setting one. She recommends I (and you, if anyone is actually reading this) Set A Wildly Improbable Goal. Think, “Dream the impossible dream.” Because just setting that goal forces you outside your comfort zone, and with those steps you BECOME A DIFFERENT PERSON.

MY IMPROBABLE GOAL

Complete 20 essays for BECOMING SUPER ROG by May 1st, 2025.

What? Why May 1? Fishing, baby, fishing!

Ice should be melted here in Frozen February, Frank willing.

Why 20? Simple math:

3 months x 4 weeks x 7 days/week = 88 days ÷ 20 = 4.4 

= 1 essay every 4 days 

(rounding down – hey, it’s already an impossible dream, no need to make it an indisputable nightmare).

And should I fail?

Sue’s advice: “DON’T off yourself .” 

After all, it is wildly improbable.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

I’ll confess my results to you all in Frank’s name in the May 1 episode.

MEANWHILE

Please feel free to REPLY to this email. If that doesn’t work 1) let me know, and 2) send an email to:

jollyrogeraford@gmail.com

Thanks!

Have A Happy Valentine’s Day!

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“See” you next episode!

Same Rog Time; Same Rog Email!