Information SuperJunkie

This site is about me and everything in between

Archive for the category “Family Business”

What You Are is, in fact, What You Do

One of the most interesting topics I always stumble upon in the PR world is branding.

We are use to seeing what large companies; Apple, Coca-Cola, GM; do with their brand. They create funny, witty, intelligent advertisements, but the brand doesn’t stop their. It continues in to the perceived notion of who should own what created by whoever.

It is easy to see why the types of people who buy Apple products buy Apple products. The company has invested more than just marketing to create their brand. Sales events, design of a product, design and layout of a store, press conferences, conventions, product releases and consumer research all lead to brand creation.

But what about the personal brand? How do you sell you to other people?

Face it, we do it all the time. From a good handshake, to wearing a proper shirt to a correspondingly proper event, we are constantly trying to sell who we are to others.

But what is your brand? What are you trying to sell to others? Lies? Misinformation? Honesty? Politeness? Kindness? Compassion? Hate?

Obviously, these are some basic concepts that evolve in to a more complex truth.

So, I posit the concept that in this day in age, with social media consuming our lives, advertisements obstructing our entertainment, and product placement literally making it to our soles (PF Flyers are one of the reasons I will always wear Chuck Taylors), we are our own brand.

We mold those around us to accept what we are, or we don’t. But the main point is that evening in not doing this sales pitch, we are selling our brand. Our brand is what we do, and what we do is who we are.


Curiosity Killed the Cat. Luckily, the Cat Had Nine Lives

How awesome was it that America sent a car-sized rover to Mars?

Wait, you didn’t’ hear about it? Liar. It was everywhere, and not since the last shuttle launch or when the Challenger disaster occurred (which I don’t remember but was alive for) has there been this type of coverage for a NASA project.

Think about it. A car-sized rover was launched. In to space. To land on Mars. And not just any part part, but a specific part of the Red Planet.

I don’t know what the equivalent would be to properly correlate something of this nature, but I must say it is fucking awesome.

I once wrote about how the ending of the Space Shuttle program spelled the inevitable doom for this country. No, not Harry Potter or the gays are out downfall as society, but our demonizing of education and ignorance toward science have seemingly limited our ability to dream asĀ  country and connect as people.

Then, we landed on Mars with the largest rover to date.

And it is named Curiosity, of Mars Science Laboratory officially. But think about that name. It packs so much in it for who we are as people. For too long we looked at the sky, and said the moon was enough. It wasn’t and it never should be.

We even look to the mysteries of subatomic particles to see how we can better understand our world, and ourselves. The hunt for the Higgs Boson isn’t over, even though compelling evidence has shown itself for the first time since the particle’s existence was proposed.

I don’t know when contentment will kick in my mind. That some day I will just say, “This is good enough.”

But programs like the Large Hadron Collider and the Mars Science Laboratory leave me in hope that even though I may seem contentment personally, someday, that human race will never give up hope at being better and more knowledgeable than it ever was.

Let Me Tell You About This Guy I Know

See, it is a funny thing, when you realize that the one you look up to, is pretty much just you. You from a different time, a different place, a different idea entirely.

It is funny, how you read the words of your mentor, your idol, and see that you use the same language, the same flow, the same syntax. Fuck, the punctuation is the same. And the swearing.

It is funny how you see yourself in his place, and him in yours, and you wonder what he would do. And you know what you should do.

It is funny how you can hear him say, “Go for it, son.” You can hear him say, “You shouldn’t do that, son.”

It is funny how those word will always give you the courage to do the right thing.

“The right thing is rarely the popular thing,” he would say. And you will find yourself reminding this god that exact same notion.

It is funny how you can understand so little about a man, yet know so much.

It is funny how you can see the man he is and the man you want to be.

It is funny how you try to be better than him, and will always fall short.

It is funny how you can strive to be perfect.

It is funny how you know he that is not, and yet, if you are a fraction of that idol, you will be everything you wanted to be.

My father is what I want to be, but I want to better. Not that he isn’t great, he is a near perfect father. Flaws and all, he is the man who I strive to be.

He wants me to be better. He wants me be quick to listen and slow to talk. He wants me to have more guts, more brain and more brawn. He wants me to be better than him and his father and my grandfather’s father. He wants me to be better than anyone to bear the name that is my last name.

It is funny to realize, that your god, your idol, your role model looks up to you.

I missed posting this on his birthday, but Happy Birthday Dad.

And challenge accepted.

Happy Mother’s Day

What can be said about a mom that hasn’t already been said on any day, let alone Mother’s Day?

There is the stereotypical, “My mom made me who I am,” or “My mom is best mom in the world.”

I could say that, but if there is one thing I have learned from my mom, it’s not to say what has already been said and to ignore stereotypes.

But, this one is difficult, because my mom is an integral part of who I am.

For all the tenacity and hard-work mentality my father instilled in me, my mom sent those messages ten-fold.

So, this is to the woman, who after working all day could create a masterpiece meal for three bottom-less pits known as her children.

This is to the woman you knew was mad when she swore, and God wouldn’t even cross that path.

This to is the woman who will stay up until 3 in the morning talking to her sons, because she hasn’t seen them in months.

This is to the woman who never had to tell me never to give up, because her eyes said it all.

This is to the woman who has so much compassion for everything, that when she accidentally hit a cat, she was upset, but has no issue talking about the guy sitting next to her at Wrigley, describing him as “a douchebag.”

This is to the woman who has been the only person I have seen put my dad in his place, which can be herculean effort.

This is to the woman who puts a smile on my dad’s face like I have never seen in 25 years of my life.

This is to the woman who will never stop being young, and never allow anything to slow her down.

As you get older, you start to piece together why you act and do the things you do. From my father I learned that there is never an excuse to not work hard. And I embody that mentality every day.

But it was my mom who taught me that hard work doesn’t just mean a job. It means working on family, and relationships. It means that there is really never a good excuse to not see your family. It means that no matter how tired you are of things, there are people relying on you.

My mom taught me how to cook and sew a button. She taught me how to wash my clothes and clean dishes. She taught me all of the things that basically allow me to live on my own currently.

But what I truly learned from her was never to turn away anyone in need, and to be there for everyone who is in need. Likewise, she taught me to put my pride away, and ask for assistance.

So, my mom is the best mom in the world. She helped make me who I am today. I know, stereotypical, but when there are people who are so much a part of you, it is difficult to say anything else.

Happy Mother’s Day Mom.

Love you.


Sometimes polishing nostalgia is ok

I am one for moving forward, so much that you would think I hate my past with a viscosity that only deviates from a physically and emotionally abused child.

I think I look forward so hard, because it is what I was taught. I was taught to think several moves ahead, and I was taught to not lose. If I did, I handled it like a man. Even at 5, I had to handle it like a man.

Maybe my immaturity at this age is simply countering how quickly I grew up. But maybe I didn’t grow up as quickly as I think.

For when I think of my past, it isn’t downtrodden with thoughts of gray or decay. It is filled with ridiculous stories of a young man and young woman raising three hyper-active and highly intelligent children (tooting my own horn here).

It is filled with a man and a woman ignoring the calls of their parents to move back to where the family was. It was filled with a family forging its own path, none of this “the road less traveled by” shit.

“Two roads diverged in a wood,” well guess what ass face? I grabbed a machete and hacked my own way.

Just like my parents did.

And just like my kids will tell their kids.

And when my family looks and reflects on why they did the way they do things, I hope they will see, that they may have formed their own trail. But, that is status quo if your last names begins with “V” and ends with a “olenik.”


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