All the crap that is good to know....

To Err Is Human....

2009-05-20T15:18:00.000-07:00

I have made a lot of mistakes in my life. A LOT. Some of the mistakes have been worse than others. Some of them did not even appear to be mistakes, but they were. No matter what degree they were, or how bad they were, or how small they were, they were mistakes. I am human. Fallible, by design. I could get all biblical on you people and site Chapter and Verse from the Good Book all of the references made to how prone we as humans are to making mistakes. Bad judgements. Doing bad things, in general. It wouldn't do me any good to rehash all of the Verses because y'all know them. Even those of you who are not all that religious. We have heard these sayings and have been exposed to most of them all of our lives. There is some truth in all of them, though. My favorite one is, "To err is human, to forgive is divine." I am not 100% sure where this quote came from and if I was industrious enough at this particular moment, I would try to find is by Googling it or something but I will just say it is an old and wise Proverb. It is a simple statement that means just what it says. To fuck things up is a human quality but to forgive those fuck ups is a Godly thing. It's as close as we can get to "playing God" without getting ourselves in trouble for it. Most of the time, when we try to play God, it is usually not for the right reasons or it is for our own gain. Forgiveness is never wrong and it is not usually for just our own good. Forgiveness is divine. The old Proverb says so. We need to see this for what it is. It is not a blanket "Free Pass" for those around us to do what they want and not expect consequences. It is a way for us to move on from the things that have been perpetuated upon us. It is a way for those who have wronged to reflect on what they have done and realize that it can NEVER happen again if they expect more forgiveness in the future. It is a way for those who have been wronged to purge their souls of hate and hurt that may be lingering. Hate and hurt are not good to have lurking on the inside of the human body. Okay, I just found out who said the quote. It was Alexander Pope. There, I feel better and I am sure y'all do too. Now I don't have to ask for Alexander Pope's forgiveness. But I am asking for anyone who reads this blog, that I have wronged somehow, for your forgiveness. I made a mistake. A huge mistake. A little mistake. Whichever it was and whoever you are. Is this really the way for me to get forgiveness? In some tacky form letter? It is probably not the best way for me to get the forgiveness I need. It is probably not right on so many levels but it is the only way I know to get it out there for all of those who I may have hurt or caused pain to without actually confronting them when they don't want to hear from me. I am at my amends step in AA and I am going to have to confront you people anyway. This is just a way for me to get the blow softened if that is possible. The more I type, the less I feel like this is a good idea. I am going to publish this anyway, but I want you people to know that it is being published with much trepidation. I guess I have to ask for your forgiveness for writing this now, eh?

Simplicity People.... Simplicity....

2009-04-06T12:05:00.000-07:00

So the scene is something like this... A group of 30 somethings sit around a conference table with a phone in the center of the table. One of said people is talking to someone on the speaker phone when the person on the phone excuses himself and places our room of people on hold. Hold music is heard and our intrepid group all look at each other sheepishly. Next thing you know they break out into a mean game of musical chairs to the tinkling of the hold music. When our phone person returns, mayhem ensues as our group is sent darting for the chairs that remain. This is the premise for a Chili's commercial and is totally visual. I cannot do it justice in describing it in this medium but I must convey to you people that the first time I saw this commercial, I belly laughed. I have belly laughed on every subsequent viewing. The premise of this commercial is so damn simple. I am shocked that no one has done it before. I am even more shocked that the folks at Chili's and their ad agency came up with it. Not some sketch or comedic movie writer. Sometimes, the simplest of premises make up the funniest of situations. It never ceases to amaze me how true this is. In almost all aspects of life. Television, multimedia, radio, film. All of these mediums prove to us over and over again that the simpler you make something, the better it can be. The funnier. The easier. Simplicity. We try so hard these days to complicate everything. We over-analyze. We scrutinize. We beat a point to death. If we could just learn to simplify things that happen to us or in situations that we encounter on a day to day basis, I truly believe we would be much happier people in general. There is an old acronym that I believe started in the sales world. K.I.S.S. It stands for Keep It Simple Stupid. Not the friendliest way to put it but one way to put it nonetheless. We need to clear our heads and get back to basics. Down to the nitty gritty. Stop making things too important. This is going to be a short one people. It has taken me quite some time to print this from conception and I am not quite sure why.... Probably thought about it too hard.... See what I mean????!!!!!

Has Anyone Seen My Muse....?

2009-03-05T14:38:00.001-08:00

It's strange. I have not written anything in quite some time. The strange part? I have had nothing to write about. There was a time when these babies used to come flowing out of me like lava from a volcano and now I can't find anything to write about that seems to be worth a damn. Not like I'm not trying either. I really am. I think the problem is I am censoring myself too much. I keep thinking of topics and then I decide not to write about them for fear of criticism, judgement or hate mail. Either way, I know I should not be doing this. This blog is a means for me to let go of thoughts and feelings that I may be having. It's supposed to be a way for me to vent my frustrations. Talk about my feelings. Expose the soft under belly of my emotions, and yet here I sit. In constant fear that what I say may be taken the wrong way or may offend someone. When did I start caring what you people thought? Wait, that sounded bad. I have always cared what you thought. I just never cared if it offended or upset someone. I had to write my feelings and lately I have just not been doing this. I find it hard to write about these deep feelings that torment or bother me. I never used to. It's as if I have lost my muse or if my muse is taking a vacation. Either way, I wish it would come back. For your sake AND mine. I thought my muse was a person or tangible object until I was in the Loony Bin for a stretch. I learned in there that my muse was something else. Something intangible. Something spiritual. Perhaps the medications I have been on are suppressing my muse. Perhaps it's there, just trapped in some sort of strange Machiavellian, mental prison. The only release can come from within me. I suppose stopping the medication might help but I would really rather not risk that. I do believe that the medicines I am taking are helping me in ways that I cannot explain. The medicine coupled with a newly formed relationship with AA. I am not divulging any secrets when I say that I am a member of AA. What may be of interest to many of you is that after I got sober the first time around, I stopped going to meetings when I thought I had the disease licked. Turns out the disease can manifest itself in many other ways besides just a need for drinking. The disease is about ego. It's about control. It's about pride. It's about dishonesty. All of which I struggled with during my "sober" period. I put quotations around sober because I was not working a sober program during this time. I had not done the steps. I had not lived the program. I did not have a higher power that I turned my will and my life over to for taking proper care. I have this now. I think I am a different man than I was as little as 3 months ago. I know I am a different man than I was 1 year ago. This is a very liberating feeling. Having a sponsor, working the steps, living the program and staying sober are all things that have made me a better man. I am still far from perfect. I am still far from even being really good. I just know that I have learned from my mistakes and am doing what it takes to be that better man. It just sucks that I am doing it with out my muse. Gotta find it. I really do.

It's 1 AM, I Must Be Lonely...

2009-02-01T00:04:00.000-08:00

Actually, I'm not all that lonely, I just thought that sounded good. Since it is 1 am. And I am the only one up around the house so I guess in that regard, I am lonely. Just felt like writing. Don't really know what this blog will be about yet so bear with me.... I suppose I could recap this glorious day for you... Well, sort of. I think this will just be a rambling of unrelated things that will include some descriptions of today's activities along with random thoughts. Random thought number one being that the most recent blood work I have had done has showed me to be in markedly improved health overall. With my continuing weight loss, I am reaping other benefits i.e. lower bad cholesterol, lower blood pressure, higher good cholesterol. Gee.... Isn't it funny that the doctor told me if I lost weight and took care of myself that stuff would happen like that and there it is happening. Weird how that works, eh? As part of this healthy living, one of my favorite things to do is hike with Vivian. We did that today. Granted, it was just a trip around the Park of Canals, but we went all the way to the back and turned over about 100 rocks to look for scorpions. Found a lot of termites and some ants but no scorpions. After the exercise, I broke out the disposable, table-top grill and we proceeded to picnic. A good time was had. Her day stayed busy as she and her friend McKenna got whisked away to the drive-in movies by their respective paternal grandmothers for the double feature of "Inkheart" and "Hotel for Dogs." My day stayed physical as I helped a friend move some heavy things around. Always a popular and fun-filled activity. Especially when you bleed. Vivian got home at 11:30pm! Waaaaaaaaay past bedtime but the girls had fun so Daddy overlooked the late hour. After our bedtime routine and a quick game of "flashlight" she was down for the count. Sleeping hard inside of 4 minutes. And here I am. Wide awake at 1 am. Wondering what else to write about. I have nothing more. I have bored you enough. I promise, next one will be interesting. Please, hold me to it!

To My Good Friend, I Say Goodbye....

2009-01-27T14:29:00.000-08:00

It is rare in this life when you get to meet people like Matt Hill. This was a man who it will always be a pleasure to have known. Always had a smile. Always had something nice to say about anyone he knew or even didn't know. He was a gentle giant who could soothe even the meanest soul. Matt was a great friend and a dear member of the human race. He passed away just this past Saturday from complications with his testicular cancer that he had only recently been diagnosed with. One of those freak things that is not supposed to happen to someone so young. Not to someone I know. Not to someone with whom I shared a stage with more than once. Most memorably was West Side Story. Watching someone the size of Matt gracefully dancing across the stage was a sight to behold. He did it, though. With his patented smile all the way. Someone I double-dated with in High School is not supposed to die. Matt and I were taken to Sadie Hawkins with our respective dates back in the day. We got in trouble for getting up in rotation to check the score of the NCAA Championship Basketball game that was taking place the same night of the dance. We were at the Spaghetti Company on Mill Ave. in Tempe. I will never forget that even though that restaurant is no longer there. Even as I write this, I find it hard to get the words out that I want. How do you write about someone so magnanimous without over-simplifying their life? You can't. You just find strength and comfort in the fact that Matt was a very spiritual man dedicated to his religion and God and you know he is on a better plane of existence now. Matt, we may not have seen each other in a few years but I will never forget you. You touched my life in ways that few have. You taught me a lot. These lessons I will cherish and never let go unheeded. I know you are in a better place. God speed, my good friend, as you slip the surly bonds of earth. You are missed.

Seems Like Yesterday...

2009-01-17T08:51:00.001-08:00

I know. I know. For a blog about my daughter turning 8 years old, the title is a tad cliche'. Nothing else fits exactly how I feel right at this very moment. So please, bear with the cliche' and come with me on a journey through the life of an amazing young girl. Vivian was born January 19, 2001. My little angel. She brought so much joy into my life the minute she was puked out. Now before you get upset at my choice of words, you must understand that she was actually pushed out during a puking jag by her mother. The doctor actually said the puking made it happen. It was funny and touching and beautiful all at once. There was only one moment when there was any panic about her health. A nurse said she was not responding to audio stimuli so they were concerned she could not hear. She, very quickly, corrected that thought when she started to respond just fine. I like to think it was a precursor to the many years of selective hearing that Vivian has mastered at her tender age. She was a good baby. Very regular about her feeding times. She slept well and hit all of her milestones either right on time or early. I do need to qualify the sleeping well part with the statement that she slept well when she was damn good and ready. If there was ANYTHING going on that might even be slightly interesting, she would not fall asleep. It did have to be quiet for her to fall asleep. Once asleep she slept like, well, a baby. She was a good smiler and was always ready to entertain. She had charm even as an infant. Her first words were "Wass dat?". She was so curious. Wanted to know what everything was. Her "what's that?" attitude carried all the way through to today. She is a very curious and alert child. Let's not forget, though, that curiosity killed the cat and she has had her share of close calls. Her curiosity with her own waste led to a few clean ups of the crib and surrounding walls. Her curiosity with animals and love of them has gotten her close to getting bit, scratched or torn apart on more than one occasion. It has also made her a bright, well-adjusted, smart little kid and I am proud of her for that. I have so much to be proud of when it comes to my little princess that I could fill up pages and pages. Literally. She is empathetic, smart, polite, cute, understanding, inquisitive and so on and so on... She blows me away. There are so many times I look at her and wonder what I did to deserve such a great kid. It makes me tear up when I think of how amazing she is and how close I came to missing this birthday. Vivian, baby, Daddy loves you. Always. Don't forget it, Miss V. You will always be my little punkinhead no matter what!!! I love you all the way to Pluto and back and then to infinity.....

Beating Yourself Hurts.... Let Someone Else Do It....

2009-01-06T16:20:00.000-08:00

Okay, first of all let's get one thing straight. I am referring to beating yourself UP emotionally. Nothing else. And to be honest, I don't really recommend you let someone else do it to you. It just made for a snappy title. This blog is about the phenomena of torturing ourselves for our mistakes. It's something we all seem to do. Some, like myself, more than others. I am still slicing away at whatever dignity I have left for my recent transgressions and it is SO very hard not to. The nice thing is, I have friends that have my back. Friends who are there for me. People who keep telling me to stop the madness. Stop the torture. It is over and done. You must move on. Truth be told, I have moved on in so many ways. I really have. Certain aspects of what I had done no longer bother me due to the circumstances surrounding them. I can truly say that I am not beating myself up for many of my missteps and mistakes. There are just a few hangers on that are still getting at me. These mainly have to do with my attempts on my life. How selfish was I? How stupid was I being? Was what I had done worth that? The answers to these questions are simple: Very, Very, an NO!!! This is so painfully obvious and yet here I am still pondering it. I guess when you do something as stupid as what I did, you just find it hard to let it go. You are embarrassed. You are ashamed. I have wonderful people around me reminding me to stop with those feelings. It ain't easy. Not at all. Gotta be done, though.

The Year In Review..... Yeah Right!!!!

2008-12-31T08:19:00.000-08:00

I cannot, in good conscience, bore and/or depress the Hell out of you people by doing a review of my experiences during the year of our Lord, 2008. I will, however, proselytize on some of the high and low times. This way I can discuss what I have learned, make you smile and maybe, just maybe, make you think. The year was marked with a great deal of turmoil. Amidst the turmoil, though, I managed to have some of the best times with Vivian that I think I have ever had. I cannot even count how many wonderful hikes we went on where we just zoned out and tuned into nature together. We had so many wonderful hikes in Usery Mountain Park where we identified animal tracks and examined poop!! My delicate little "Fashion Queen" telling me the difference between coyote and dog poop is a memory I will have for a very long time. Watching her grow and blossom over this last year has caused my head to spin on many occasions. The fart noises, the tickle tortures, the fashion shows, the dancing/singing concerts, the walks, the hikes.... All of it was just so incredible. Showing her a centipede for the first time and watching her perform in her 2nd Grade play were 2 highlights I won't soon forget. She is such an amazing spirit. She is such an attitude queen. She is her Father's Daughter. In addition to the wonderful and plentiful memories of Vivian over the last year, there were also some personal lows that I experienced. Up to and including my attempts at taking my own life. These were lows, yes. They were VERY dark times in my life that were the end result of a lot of dishonesty and poor self-esteem. The positive? Is there any? Yes. I learned a lot about myself. I learned a lot about those around me. I learned a lot about those closest to me. I learned that I need to love myself before I can even pretend to love someone else. This includes family and friends. I have always liked myself. Just never learned to love me. I am learning. One Day At A Time. It's hard to love yourself when you are not the person you think you should be. The fact is, you have to find a way to love yourself unconditionally. I am learning to do this by modeling my self-love (sounds kinky) after the unconditional love I have for my daughter (not so kinky). I am having to teach myself this skill. It should be second nature, like breathing. I am getting there. I started by remaining positive over the Christmas season. I continue to do it by losing more weight and eating healthier. It's amazing what a drop in jean sizes can do for the old self-love. I learned over this past year that when all is said and done, you only have yourself to blame when things go bad. You make certain choices and you must accept the choices you have made. Accepting the choices means accepting the outcome and then, moving on. It has been a wild ride of a year for me. Too many ups and downs to count and recount. Suffice it to say, it has been a pivotal year in my life and I look forward to what 2009 has in store. I hope you are all able to reflect with a smile on at least some part of your past year and are especially able to look as forward as I am to the next!!! Happy New Year!!!!

Is It Over Yet....?

2008-12-29T11:23:00.000-08:00

Christmas is over. Wow. Even as I type those few words, I realize how very sad the statement is. It's all over for another year and we are to go right into making resolutions and celebrating the passing of one year and welcome a New Year. I don't know if I am ready for it to be over yet. I made a promise to myself that I was going to avoid my usual "Bah Humbug" attitude and not be a grinch this year and I fulfilled that promise. I did it despite others around me and not around me trying very hard to drag me down. There was a lot of terrible news and incidents that took place around the country this year, including some local, that made it hard to see the Christmas Spirit at work. I looked far and wide and I looked right in my own backyard for that Spirit and although it was hard, at times, I found it. I found it in my daughter's smile. Amazing, huh? Something so small. Yet bigger than life itself. I also found it in the fact that I continued my quest for better health and instead of gaining weight over the holidays, I lost more. The 38's are starting to get too loose now. May be down to a 36 by the end of the month, God willing. I stayed sober over the holidays. Been able to do it in past years but somehow, this year seemed sweeter. I managed to move on. From so many things. All of these reasons showed me the Spirit. They helped me stay positive in this time that for so long was a negative time for me. A time that very well could have been negative this time around due to recent events in my life. I didn't let it get negative, though. That is the embodiment of the Spirit right there if you ask me!!!!!

Merry Christmas!!

2008-12-24T13:26:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to take a short minute and wish EVERYONE who reads my words a Merry Christmas. Regardless of who you are, how you came to read my writing, whether you like me or not. I want you all to have a Merry Christmas. It is great that this is the one time of year that I can say something to everyone, no matter who they are, and mean it. Most of my writing effects just a few people or is directed at a segment of readers who I am trying to reach but this short note goes out to all. Every last one of you. I know I plan to have a great Christmas. It will be hectic with trying desperately to coordinate schedules and be with which family members at whose house at what time but I will be busy making the best of it with a smile on my face. I have to. I am lucky to be around this Christmas. I almost wasn't. I have so much to be thankful for that I am going to make this year a Grinch free Christmas. And in doing so for myself, I am going to wish the same for everyone else. People, love the ones around you. Thank God for the season. Celebrate the birth of Our Saviour with vim and vigor. Love those who can't be around you. Love those who have done wrong. They need it, too. This is the time of year when we can put aside our differences for just a few minutes and wish someone a Merry Christmas that we may not have otherwise. It's time, people. This is the time. If the Reason for the Season has taught us anything, it is that "To err is human, to forgive is divine." This does not wipe the slate clean for those we have done wrong to or who have wronged us. It just gives us a moment to put aside the wrongs and give a healthy, hearty Merry Christmas to those who could really use it. Sinners gots feelin's, too. Okay, I have rambled enough. I was just going to say Merry Christmas and I ended up preaching. Well, you know me. Merry Christmas to all. Please enjoy your Holidays. Please enjoy your families and friends. Please enjoy the giving and the receiving. Please enjoy the Reason for the Season!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!

More Wisdom From A Wise Man....

2008-12-20T22:17:00.000-08:00

I certainly hope you did not assume that I was speaking about myself in the title. I am "Trivial Pursuit" smart. I know my English. Been down a few roads, but I ain't no WISE MAN..... I thank you for thinking of me that way but, alas, I am speaking of Spencer Tracy. Actually, his character in "Inherit the Wind," Henry Drummond, gave us the wisdom I am about to impart. So, I guess that means the screenwriter should actually get the credit...... Aw, to Hell with it..... Spencer said it, so deal with it. He was asked by his friend why they had grown apart after all of the years. How had he strayed so far from the friendship? His response was classic, timeless and very wise. He stated, "Perhaps it is you, my friend, who has moved away by standing still." Pearls people. This is what I am all about. Now, I know you are wondering what this has to do with the price of tea in China... Well, if you read my most recent blog, you read a touching take on moving on. The final thought was about moving forward and how it cannot be achieved by standing still. Still wondering where I am going with this? It's okay. I am too. I gotta be honest with y'all, when I started this I was fairly certain I had a direction... Let me see.... What was I thinking...? Expounding on the standing still vs. moving forward..... Oh, okay!!!! I know!!!! How can you move forward when something always seems to take you a step or two back. It can be something you have control over or not. Whatever it is, it impedes your progress. Just when you thought you were ready to start the race, you get pulled back. Someone grabs the back of your shirt and yanks you off the starting line. Seemingly for no reason whatsoever. It's weird, isn't it? Always seems to happen that way. Another thing happens when you are trying to take those first few steps and get going. You look around you and see everything else moving so goddamn fast you wonder how you will ever keep up. You become almost discouraged. Afraid to start. Feeling like things are so stacked against you why even take the first step. You will only get passed up. Or fall down. Or get pulled off the track by something. It's hard to move forward. So very hard. You just have to do it. It's part of life. You have to let someone or something pull you off the starting point just to humble you now and then. The key is to shake it off and get going. You cannot worry about all of the other influences around you being faster. They are going to be. There always is someone or something faster than you. Simple as that. I was watching Vivian play with a friend of hers today. I had climbed a tree at the park while she and her friend were planting pine cones and it slapped me like a ton of bricks.... She is moving so much faster than me. I was reminded of an amaZing poem that I had committed to memory and would like to share with you.

"Nature's first green is gold.

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's aflower,

but only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf,

so Eden sank to grief.

So dawn goes down to gray.

Nothing gold can stay.

- Robert Frost

This poem reminds us that life moves fast. We have to realize that every moment is precious but it moves quick. Savor it, but keep in mind that we must keep moving. Life is life. We have to live it on life's terms. Not ours. When we start thinking we can beat this thing called life, we will lose every time. We can watch it speed by but we need to do so as we are running. Not standing still. Standing still gets us nowhere. Literally. Let them pull on your shirt. Let them pass you by. "Slow and steady wins the race." Words to live by, my dear friends. Words to live by.

THEY Say, "Easy Come, Easy Go..." I Say Bullshit!!

2008-12-19T08:03:00.000-08:00

Am I alone in my thinking here, folks? It just seems to me that there are situations in your life that come along easily. They may come easily but they are often the hardest to let go of and move on. Why is this? I think I have narrowed it down to 3 reasons why this may seem to be the case. I want to analyze them now. The first being the lazy factor. When a situation arises in your life that has required little to no effort on your part, it's kinda cool. Then it goes away and you worry it may never happen again. The converse of this is when it comes easy and then goes, you worry that because you did not have to earn the situation, you lost it because you didn't have to work for it. The third reason is just that letting go is always hard to do no matter what. This reason being, in my opinion, the most controversial. Let's discuss the lazy factor. I will use a metaphor to explain this one. A person is sitting around doing nothing of consequence when they get a phone call saying they won a prize. No effort. Just a random thing. They claim the prize and find that it is the most useful, helpful, and special prize they have ever gotten. Soon, though, they break it. Irreplaceable. Never get another. That has got to hurt. That has to be so intensely heartbreaking. You had it. You didn't expect or ask for it. You loved it. Then ya done gone and broke it. I would think that makes it VERY hard to let go. It came in without your doing and went out because of your doing. Oh sure, it was an accident. You don't regret it. It just happened that way. But letting go..... Not easy at all. In the second situation, you actually worked very hard at obtaining it. We can use the prize analogy again. You were diligent. Labored and sweat to make sure you won the prize. You win!! Was the winning by sheer tenacity enough to sustain your pleasure regardless of the outcome? What if you broke it? Hey, at least you tried? Is that the case or would it be devastating because you worked so hard? I would imagine anything worth working for would be hard to let go. The third situation is that letting go is always hard to do and you just need to accept that. I see a great deal of controversy here because letting go can be very easy and very cleansing, at times. Sometimes letting go is the best thing that can happen for you. It's not ALWAYS hard. The key to any kind of letting go is keeping your regrets in check. Let me repeat that. The key to letting go is keeping the regrets in check. You will have regrets. We all do. You just need to make sure that you do not allow them to consume you. No matter how hard it is to let something go, we MUST ensure we are letting go for the right reasons. Not to erase the regret, but to embrace it. Accept what you have done or not done and move on. It is the only sure fire way let go, absolutely. With this letting go comes forward progress, which should be the ultimate goal in all of our lives. It should go without saying that you can't get very far by standing still.

Is It Just Me.....

2008-12-17T22:32:00.000-08:00

Well, I got it. I finally got it. The Flu. I think. It was no cold. I know a cold. What had me on my ass for two straight days, barley able to get out of bed had to be the dreaded Flu. You know, that illness you go and get a shot to prevent you from getting it. Never got one of them things. Never thought I needed it. Never had anyone just ask if I wanted one. Never imagined I would want one. Until this year. Three months ago I was asked during a routine office visit with the doctor. The nurse was tending to several other ailments and had me well distracted as she asked if I wanted a Flu shot. I was smack dab in the middle of a breathing test that I almost passed out from so I thought I would just err on the side of caution since I knew my health has been compromised of late. She stuck me and sent me on my way. I have always heard that they are injecting you with a mild strain of the virus that is supposed to protect you from getting the bad one. With this knowledge, I braced myself for some flu-like symptoms and maybe a little bout with the bug. Nada. Zilch. Zip. For three freakin' months. I don't think it would take three months for that shot to make it's way through my body. No fat jokes here folks, remember, I am not as big as I used to be. I think I just full on got me that flu. Don't know from whom. Can't figure from where. I just know that for the previous years that I have gone without this miracle shot, I managed to make it through each "flu season" without being a notch on it's proverbial head post. The year I decide to get the shot, I become Flu's bitch. Back-ache, lethargy, difficulty breathing, sore head, sore throat.... The whole works. It has been awful. I am slowly coming out of it. Just a little bit at a time. The symptoms seem to be dissipating one at a time on their own schedule. They all hit me at once. Now they gotta leave slowly and one at a time. That just figures. I can almost hear them laughing as they exit this way. "Okay.... heh heh.... now you go sore throat....heh heh.... but walk reeeeaaaaaallll sloooooooowwww.......heh heh....... Now, after sore throat leaves, lethargy, you wait 3 hours and then you sloooooowwwwwlllllyyyyy make your way out....heh heh...." Bastards!!!!! I can hear you!!!!!! Oh great, now I am talking to my symptoms..... Is that a symptom? Either way. I am sitting here typing to you now and telling you to rest assured, there is one man who will NOT be getting a Flu shot next year. Yes, you guessed it. Me. No way. No how. I will take my chances.

Kids..... You Know I Love 'Em......

2008-12-14T08:29:00.000-08:00

I keep getting reminded that Vivian is just a few years away from 13. In a month and 5 days, she will be exactly 5 years from this milestone. I want to take this opportunity to thank all of you who feel the need to remind me of this. Reminding me that when she hits 13, all Hell breaks loose. Literally. She will be overtaken by some kind of demon and no longer be my sweet little girl. Have you people forgotten that I taught Jr. High School? I know how these things work. I am already aware of the transformation that takes place in our children. Granted, my own child will be that nightmare times 1000, but I do not need the reminders. I am given little reminders and clues all of the time as to what is in store for me. I have been getting them for years. Let me explain. When she was just a tiny baby on up to a year old, I remember thinking, "I cannot wait until she can walk on her own." I thought how much less tired my arms would be. How great it would be to have her walk with me. Watching her walk to her Kindergarten class. I remember thinking this stuff. Then she could walk. Non-stop chasing her around the house. Running off too far ahead in a busy parking lot and scaring the shit out of me. Walking just far enough ahead, on purpose, at a crowded event to where I go into panic mode and give myself a coronary worrying about her. They all said when she was little and I wanted her to walk that I should be careful what I wish for.... Yeah.... Bite me!!! Then there was the excitement of her first words. The first thing I remember her saying coherently is "Wass dat?" She has not stopped asking questions since...... "Are chicken fingers really made from chicken's fingers, why are you so hairy, Daddy, why is Pluto not a planet anymore, what if a shark got into Grandma and Papa's pool, can McKenna play, why are you crying? Question after question. If I had known what came with the ability to talk, I would have not taught her English. Maybe Greek. Then, with the talking, there is also the advent and perfection of the negative response.... No, Not Fair, Never, Nope, Not Now, Now, Never mind. Ah, the long lost days of screaming and crying as a way to communicate. I really think I miss it. There was usually a reason for it and it could be taken care of. Now SHE has the answer for everything and I am the one crying and screaming. I remember getting so excited when you could actually see the voice recognition on her face when Daddy came into the room. Now I can't get her to recognize my voice at any volume level. To her, I am not only speaking a different language, but I am also saying it so quietly she cannot hear a word I say. It seems that things have gotten lost in translation. No means yes. Maybe means definitely. Now means whenever you get around to it. Please means....well, nothing. It is with all of this in mind that I say to you now, I have no expectations one way or the other for my little angel when she turns 13. If I expect the best, she will ensure that is not what happens. If I batten down the hatches for the worst, she will be the exception to the rule and not be all that bad. That is what I have learned. I have also learned that the sound of her laughing makes my heart smile. When she says "I Love You, Daddy," I melt away. I learned that she will always push her boundaries. That is how she grows. She is growing so freakin' fast. I think that is why all of the reminders of the fast approaching teen years get on my nerves. It's not that I don't want her to become 13. It's that I don't want her to grow up. It is all happening waaaaaayyyyy too fast. I know she has to. I know she wants to. I guess the good thing about that is that at least one of us will grow up. God knows I haven't yet.

Laugh!!!

2008-12-13T14:08:00.000-08:00

How easily we forget. We refuse to remember that there are certain truths in this world. Sometimes we forget until it's too late. One of those truths is that laughter IS the best medicine. It can heal so many things. Conversely, laughter can cause damage if it is done AT someone but I am not focusing on this kind of laughter. I am focusing on the kind that heals. The kind that energizes. The kind that bonds. The kind that eases tension. We all need this kind of laughter. Desperately, it seems, at times. We fall into a rut and get down on ourselves or our situations. So far down, that it seems there is no way out. I am here to tell you that there is a way out. Laugh. Find a reason. Any reason. Turn on a movie that always works. Call a friend who can always make you laugh. Watch a TV show that you can laugh at or with. Watch those around you long enough. Someone is going to do something funny eventually. Make sure that you are open to laugh at it. Do something funny yourself! Laugh at yourself. You lose a lot of laughs if you can't laugh at your own folly. Sometimes we are the best source of our own laughter. I know I am. I say and do so much stupid/funny shit on a daily basis, it should be outlawed. Actually, I think it is in several countries. Hence, I don't travel much. Laughing is so easy to do. You just have to be open to it. I know that sometimes, things don't seem all that funny. This time of year with the stress, money issues, family tension etc. it seems especially hard to laugh. It is during these times that we really need to crank up our openness to laughter. Humor is everywhere. Tune in. Laugh. I promise, you will feel better. If you are bored, laugh. For no reason. It helps. If you are sad. Laugh. The sadness does not go away but at least for that short while, it's not in charge. You can start to heal faster if you just LAUGH!!!! I know that some people, like me, can use humor to an almost unhealthy level. This is mostly just unhealthy to the individual who does it though. The most damage it will do to those around them is causing a bladder control problem or a sore face. Neither of which are "bad" if laughter is what caused them. We need to collectively remember just how good laughing is for all of us. It is true that when you laugh the world laughs with you. Try it. I dare you!!!!

Riots, Recession and Corruption.... Oh My!!!

2008-12-11T09:29:00.000-08:00

Ain't it a bitch? Just like I mentioned a few blogs back, this time of year is chock full of bad shit in the news that could easily make us lose sight of the true meaning of the season. Massive riots in Greece. A recession here at home and major political corruption in Illinois. It's enough to make you wonder what God has in store next this time of year. It's not enough that more people than ever are needing to hit the food banks. It's not enough that we still have soldiers being killed over there. It's just a part of the Big Picture, right? I know that sounds cynical but in a way, yes. We have to look at it that way. The riots in Greece. Damn shame what is going on over there. For being the birthplace of Democracy, there is an awful lot of nasty Police-State shit going down and the students and anarchists are exploiting it. Hence, bloody and violent riots. Don't see a quick end to this one folks. Recession here? Really? What was your first clue? The foreclosures? The repos? The job market? The down turn in all spending? Don't tell Grandma. She has gone over the top with V and the other girls this year as usual. As far as the corruption? Par for the course. Need a scandal this time of year, anyway. I feel bad for the folks from Illinois...... Nah, not really. What is important is that we stay focused. We think locally. We take care of what we can control. We smile a little more than usual. We say nice things to anyone who will listen. We love those closest to us just a little more than usual. We forgive. We extend a handshake and a Merry Christmas now and again. These are the things we are in control of. These are the the things we can do to keep our focus on the Reason for the Season. Keep it in mind folks. I know this was short but I hope it helped remind y'all of what you gotta do. I know it helped me. I have to do these things to keep my eyes on Jesus. The reason. God Bless and Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays and all that other crap..... Heh heh......

I Am Trying, I Mean, NOT Trying to Brag.....

2008-12-09T16:30:00.000-08:00

It seems interesting to me. How much self-esteem can control how we feel all around. If our self-esteem is way down for some reason, we tend to be down on ourselves and subsequently down on everyone else. If we are feeling good about ourselves we tend to project a better mood. I recently got a big self-esteem boost so I hope it will translate to better moods all around. What is it that has boosted me? What has raised my spirits to the point of higher self-esteem? I fit into size 38 jeans. I know some are saying that I sound like a woman. Getting excited over jean sizes. Let me tell you folks something. The last time I wore 38 jeans, I was fresh out of High School and just starting my drinking career. After many years and many, many beers, I had managed to get myself big enough to need, at times, size 44 jeans. Over the last few years, I had gone back down to a steady 42. Now I am comfortable in a 38 Levi's Regular. Not Loose Fit. No, I am not turning into a woman and getting excited over some weight loss. I am just happy with myself that I have been trying to be more healthy and it is starting to show. With all of my health problems over the last few years and with all of the doctors saying the same thing about losing weight, it appears it has finally sunk in and started to take the proper effect. I have been trying to eat healthier. I have been walking more. I have cut down several things in my diet. Fast food and comfort food are no longer my staples. I actually have been able to force fruit down my gullet now and again. Drinking water a lot more than soda which has been the hardest thing to get used to. Anyone who knows me knows how much I freakin' LOVE soda. Dr. Pepper. Diet Pepsi. Sierra Mist. You name it, I love it. I have had to force myself to avoid them. It has been harder than ANYTHING I have tried to wean off of before. Quitting alcohol was so much easier. Water has been good to me though. It has quenched my thirst and come in handy when I was craving a soda. Just grab a bottle of Fiji Water instead of that Dr.P. Listen, I am the last person to preach about eating or drinking habits so I hope no one is taking it that way. I am just sharing what worked and is still working for me. Not trying to rub any one's nose in my success. Just want to share some good news for once. I am the poster boy for struggling with weight loss so I just thought maybe my good fortune could make someone else out there say, "Well, if fat ass can do it, I should be able to as well!!"

Fart Noises Are The Best...

2008-12-07T09:45:00.000-08:00

Those of you that know me even slightly well know that I am not interested in bodily functions. Don't care to hear about your last bowel movement. Don't need to hear your nose being blown to pieces. Don't wanna look at the pus coming out of your recent surgery scar. Not stuff I like. Not stuff I want to discuss. Not stuff I care about in any way, shape, and/or form. This being said, I must throw in a caveat. An exception to the rule, as it were. Burping and farting. Nothing funnier than a well timed burp during a tense moment around the family dinner table on a holiday. No better way to enact revenge on a smart ass buddy than letting one rip from below in a closed up car on a hot Arizona day. Gas, for me, as a bodily function is okay. Where in the Hell am I going with this? What's the freakin' point? Well, I'll tell ya. Viv and I have had a great weekend this weekend but the highlight took place 15 minutes ago when she called me into the bathroom where she was taking a bath to show me how she makes fart noises with her rubber ducky...... I laughed so damn hard I think I hurt something. The look on her face when the sound came out louder than she or I had expected was priceless. I could do nothing but burst into a fit of laughter that caused me to strain something important. We did the Temple Lights. We saw Bolt. We hung out. I actually picked her up from school on Friday as a big surprise. We had Big Breakfast. We did Burger King. We had a great time swinging at the School Park. And what do you suppose we are both going to remember most about this weekend? The fart noises. They really were something else. Life-like!!!!! Good times, folks. It's the little things that make life worth living. I must remind myself everyday. I hope you guys do, too! Treasure the funny stuff. Hold onto to the laughs. One day, it will not be as funny. One day, it will all be gone. Kids grow up. We grow old (well, I need to grow up first, but I may get old one day...... speaking of, I let my hair grow out more than it has in 6 years a few weeks ago and discovered a great deal of gray..... I am too young for gray hair.....Oh shit, off the topic, as usual....). Fart noises will always be funny. So will burping. You just may not get as many chances to enjoy them when they are grown and gone.

"Let He That Is Without Sin...."

2008-12-04T18:08:00.000-08:00

I've done a lot of bad shit in my life. Never murdered anyone. Just some bad shit. It is with this in mind that you must understand the following venting is kept in check. I do not want to come across as preachy. I refuse to sound "Holier Than Thou." I simply feel as though I need to get some things off of my chest that have been there for quite some time. Some have been harbored for many years. Some are recent. Doesn't matter. It really doesn't. If you are reading this and thinking it's about you, you are more than likely incorrect. Keep in mind, I have been trying to be so positive lately, that I almost forgot not all humans are capable of 24 hr happiness. I have anger issues. I have built up resentments. I have sadness. The trick is finding ways to release them in a healthy way. Venting on my blog without naming names and using as little foul language as possible seems, to me, to be a healthy way. Right? Tell me otherwise and I'll kick your ass..... Nah, not really. Okay then, let the ranting begin!!!! I guess my main beef when people relish in their shortcomings. Not only are they aware of the problems they have, they are almost proud of them. They wear them like a big Brownie button or Boy Scout badge. Now they only do this in certain company. Usually when it will benefit them in some way either directly and outwardly or indirectly and internally. They almost want everyone around to see just how bad they are but God forbid they be judged for it. They want they notoriety but they don't want to be notorious. They want to be famous when they are really heading towards becoming infamous. Some examples..... Henry Lee Lucas. Confessed to over 100 murders in Texas and across the country. Turned out, he had just committed 3. "Just" committed. I know. Sounds bad. Fact is, while he was playing head games with the police on all of these other murders he did not commit, the real killers were walking free. This is a man who has no conscience. No remorse. Does not feel the least bit of sympathy for the families of those victims he claimed to have killed. Not any concern for the families of the ones he DID kill either. O.J. Simpson. Need I say more? That man probably looked in the eyes of his own children and said he was innocent. No conscience. These are the type of people that just need to go away. These are extreme cases. We all have a few of these folks in our lives, they are just not capable of murder. They have no problem flaunting your pain in your face, though. I never relished in the pain I caused. I may have done it without conscience because of the way I am wired but I never relished in it. I never sat back and relived the moments that I did wrong and thought how great it was. If I can even think about ALL of the bad and stupid shit I have done, all I can do is cry about it. Real tears. Not the crocodile kind. Even though I am well on my way to healing, I must admit that I still have a great deal of difficult days. Reliving my wrongs. Wearing my hair shirt. I know I am not supposed to anymore. I guess I am just hard-wired for regret. The trick is, moving through it. Not relishing it. I will work on this. As well as ensuring that my days of the Bad Shit are over. Tall order. Has to be filled, though. I don't want to be like one of "those" people. I have to remember what I have done and LEARN from it so I NEVER do it again. God knows, I have a lot of learning to do. I'm gonna do it. ONE DAY AT A TIME! Okay. I feel better. Don't y'all????

I Am So Stoked About These New Songs....

2008-12-03T20:18:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. I am pathetic. Third blog of the day. Second one about my goddamn music but I am sitting here on the computer just diggin' on my new music. Three songs are really kicking my ass with great thoughts. "Just Wait" by Blues Traveler, "Zor and Zam" by The Monkees and "Big Bad John" by Jimmy Dean. All three of these songs represent a different era of my life and are helping me to reflect on the great times I have had and why it is so important for me to fight my demons to ensure future great times! Have to start with "Big Bad John." Oh, the summers spent in the back seat of the station wagon driving across country with the fam. While it was happening, I thought I was in Hell. As I got older and reflected on all of the things I saw, things people I met and the music I listened to from the cassette player in that Buick, I realized how lucky I was that my folks chose that method of travel over flying. I would have never been exposed to so much and learned so many things. I also would have never been able to memorize a song that came out years before my parents were even married. Great song, great memories. Next is the very obscure but very powerful song "Zor and Zam." It was a little known song from one of the last Monkee's albums made and it was purely anti-war. The message of two great Kings calling for a war that no one shows up to was brilliant. It is hauntingly sung by Mickey Dolenz and it takes me back to an awkward time in most kid's lives but a time I treasure most. My early teens. Glasses, braces, headgear and acne be damned!!!! I still had a great time!!! The last song is "Just Wait." This one is a little more slow and actually came at a time in my life that was doused in booze. This song, when I heard it the first time, just grabbed my heart strings and pulled real hard. Did the same thing when I found it today. Same feelings all over again. It is a song of hope. A song of redemption. A song that reminds us that we are NOT the only ones with troubles and that if we just hold on for a little while longer, life can turn around in our favor. It's a simple message but one that we all seem to forget in times of stress, anger or sadness. I was always stressed, angry and sad when I was swimming in alcohol and so this song always reminded me that there was hope even for a miserable drunk such as myself. Sure enough, things got better. Took a while, but it always did. Especially now as I feel like I have hit what I hope to have been my last "rock bottom," I can listen to this song and fill myself with at least a glimmer of hope. That is always nice. Okay, I am done babbling about my new songs. Until the next batch of new music.......

Short Note With Some FYI.....

2008-12-03T16:09:00.000-08:00

Who says every blog I write has to be long and drawn out? Certainly not me. Yes, I have a lot to say and my head is ALWAYS full of ideas but sometimes I just need to inform. The purpose here is to use my blog space as a bulletin space. I hardly ever read new bulletins but I will read a new blog in a minute. This gets me a larger audience if I have something to announce like I do right now. Nothing major. Just that I added some great fucking music to my play list. It is probably the most eclectic mixture that I have added since I started the damn thing. Blues Traveler, Les Miserables, Jimmy Dean, Metallica, a Disney love song, The Monkees, OMD, and so on.... Just check it out. Some great stuff happening. I love watching my music tastes grow and ebb and flow. It blows me away. Like watching a kid grow up. Anywho.... ENJOY THE MUSIC!!!!!

Norman

2008-12-03T08:18:00.000-08:00

If you have been reading my blogs from the very beginning, you may remember a character by the name of Norman. The guy whose sole purpose is to ruin a person's day. Well, I decided to expound on Norman and make him into something more. Something other than just a blog. The first 2 chapters are done and I am now working on Chapter 3. I am taking a big step and publishing what I have so far here on this blog so I can get feedback. I want the feedback because I have sent the first 2 chapters off to some publishers that I found in a great book called "The Writer's Market." My wonderful father tracked the book down and I have put it to use. This has been a work in progress over the last year or so. Feel free to publicly or privately criticize. I can take it. I ain't scared. So here it is.....

NORMAN

Chapter 1

You think your job is a piece of shit? Try mine. I ruin your day. I don't mean in a meter-maid sort of way. It's a little more complicated than that. You see, I am dead. I no longer exist in your world. So, technically, I cannot give you a parking ticket. I am the guy that gets the meter-maid to give you the parking ticket. Okay, I know this is a little confusing. I understand that you are absolutely confused at this point and that you would probably appreciate some sort of explanation. Are you sitting down? This is going to take a while. Hope you have time. If you don't want to wait, if you don't feel like sitting around and listening to a dead guy explain how and why he gets to be the one that fucks up a perfectly good day, fine. Just don't get out of bed tomorrow. You're not going to want to. Trust me.
They say, begin at the beginning. So, let's try to do that. I guess I should tell you a little something about me. I'm 34 years old. Well, I was when I died. Not sure any more. I just know that the last age I remember being before I ended up here was 34. I was divorced, depressed, tired, stressed and unhappy. I was looking at a failed marriage, a new relationship that was the most amazing thing yet could never truly be realized, a daughter that I loved but would never be able to do justice to as a father, a dream lost and no foreseeable future. I was newly sober but slipping all of the time, I was addicted to sleeping pills because they made the world go away for a few hours, I had high-blood pressure, I had high cholesterol, I was losing my hair and I couldn't get out of high school.....mentally. So tell me, was it wrong for me to give up? Now wait a minute, before you go off half-cocked, thinking I did this to myself, you're wrong. I did not take my own life. Never believed in that. I was too afraid of what might happen to me on the other side. Little did I know..... Anyway, I was sitting at home one night feeling particularly sorry for myself (shocker) and I decided I wanted a drink. Not a Diet Pepsi. A Martini. A Tanqueray Martini. Up. Extra-Dry. With a twist. I had not touched alcohol in the previous 5 years but something told me that this was a different kind of night. This was the kind of night that only comes along every now and then. No work. No kid. No woman. The cat was there, judging me as usual, but at this point his opinion didn't matter. Repeats on T.V. No Dog the Bounty Hunter or Dirty Jobs. I was still a few hours away from the Family Guy on Adult Swim so I decided to get that drink. Now, this was funny.... As I got in the car, I realized that I could not hit any of the local haunts because there WOULD be someone there that knew I was sober and they would do their damnedest to stop me. Couldn't have that. Not that night. Drive a little further, right? No. New DUI laws. Knowing full well that I was about to get loooooooooaaaaaadddddddeeeeedddddd, I thought that was not a good plan. Going to have to buy the gin, martini glass, shaker, lemon and vermouth and bring them home. Who was I kidding? I didn't need vermouth. Still had to go far enough away that no one would see me. Drove to the Wal-Mart 2 towns away thinking this was a safe choice. First of all, who buys martini glasses at Wal-Mart and second of all, who buys gin at Wal-Mart? I figured I could sneak in and out, undetected. Well, you have to know that at this point, I am going to tell you that I ran into somebody at that damn Wal-Mart. You know it right? I did. Here's the good part. Remember the new relationship I mentioned earlier? No, it wasn't her. It had to be a relative of hers, though. Figures, right? Now I have to worry about her getting on the phone with my "friend" as soon as I walk away so I have to cover, right? Human nature and all of that stuff. I fumble through a casual greeting and notice that she notices the booze. I came up with one helluva story about some sort of entertaining I was doing later in the week. It was a whopper. I don't think she bought it. Truth be told, I never found out. I was just sure that she did get on that phone when I disappeared from her sight. I'll never know. I paid for my things and drove the 30 miles home. I set the gin on the counter, unwrapped the glass and shaker (it was a neat Wal-Mart combo for $8.88), cut the twists off of the lemon and got down to business. The first Martini of the night was so amazingly exquisite, words cannot even come close to describing just how incredible it was. I want you to try and remember the first, nervous, sweaty time you had sex. Undoubtedly, it was over as soon as it started but you felt like a weight had been lifted and you got a charge between your legs. If you have a clear memory of that, then you may get kind of close to how this Martini was for me. Charge between my legs and all. It was great. It went down so smoothly that I almost didn't get to taste it. This being the case, I knew instantly that a second was forthcoming. Damned if I was not correct. In just seconds, I had crafted yet another tasty adult beverage ready for consumption. I downed the second one almost as fast as the first one and subsequently the third, fourth and fifth ones..... They were so good. Like Nectar of the Gods. Manna from Heaven. I just did not want to stop. I didn't, either. Not until I had polished off the entire bottle. That's right folks. After 5 years being dry as a bone, I managed to down an entire bottle of gin in a span of about 47 minutes. Many naysayers will scoff at this. How can a person do that without killing themselves? Well, Mr. Naysayer, remember, I am dead. I am getting a bit ahead of myself for the sake of the naysayers and I shouldn't. They are not my concern. Getting this story out is. Well, as you can imagine, after that bottle of gin was gone, I was a tad bit fuzzy and probably was not thinking very clearly. It was during this muddled time that I took a couple of my prescribed Valium to help "take the edge off" and help me sleep. Like I needed help..... Apparently, right before I went into what I now know was my permanent sleep, I managed to make a few phone calls. The first was to my mother. My dear, loving mother. Poor thing, she didn't know what to think. I had called to inform her that I was moving to Djibouti, Africa. I wanted to move there because the capital of Djibouti was Djibouti. I thought that was cool. I just wanted her to know. I then called my "friend" to tell her it was all or nothing. Either she was with me exclusively or she would have to move along! I had plans! I was moving to Djibouti!!!!! Well, one of these fine women must have sensed something was wrong or perhaps I mentioned to one of them what I had done and they felt that the police and firemen needed to be notified. Just as I started to fade away, I heard faint thumping on my door. As I was blacking out for the last time, I saw several uniformed people hurriedly making their way towards me. This is where it gets weird. You now how you are always told that when you die, you will see a bright light ahead and you will be surrounded by Jesus, Grandma and your pet hamster you thought ran away but really died but Mom didn't tell you that because she found his skeleton behind the couch and thought you were too young to understand? I am going to play spoiler right now and tell you, that is not what happens. No floating above your body in the ER as Doctor's desperately try to save you. No escalator leading up into the clouds. No rickety staircase leading into the pits of Hell. Just black. Just nothing. At least, that is how it was for me. A few minutes (I guess) of black and then this. My job. My piece of shit job where I now sit and ruin people's days. Sucks, huh? Let me show you around...

Chapter 2

So, this is my desk. I assume you have noticed by now that there is not much to it. Just a standard desk. Couple of drawers with absolutely nothing in them. Seriously, I have looked. Believe me. I am not sure why but I keep checking. Every time I have a minute or two. I pretty much open them in the same pattern every single time. I first open the top center drawer. You know the one I am talking about. The one that is usually messy. You throw everything into it except what is supposed to be there. I always check this one first. I don't know why. I am not sure if it is a result of my death and subsequent after-life job assignment but I have become very OCD. I have to do things in a specific order. I don't remember being like that when I was alive..... I am digressing. Sorry. The next drawer is the big one on the bottom right. I open this one second and I always get a little sad when I open it. This is the drawer that you could always find snacks in back in the real world. Bags of chips. Peanut Butter and crackers. Microwave popcorn bags that might be a few days old but they're still good. No such luck. Never is anything in there. Kinda pisses me off. Not that I would eat anything anyway. Have not eaten anything since I got here. Weird huh? We'll talk more about that later. The next drawer I open is the one above the big bottom right one and then the top right drawer. Same order. Every time. Same results. Never even a dust bunny. So that is the basic make-up of the desk. Let's talk about the items on the desk. The first thing you will notice is this transistor radio. If I had to guess, I would say it's circa 1960. The sound quality is about as good as listening to a HiFi stereo underwater. Tinny as all get out. The only comforting fact is that I do not recognize any of the music playing so it's not like anything I care about is being ruined. Yeah, you heard right. I know none of the music being played. It is a mix of many different types of music and the style changes all of the time. Every now and then I will hear a tune that vaguely sounds familiar. If I think real hard, I can almost recognize some of the music. It is always right there. Just right at the tip of my tongue. Totally frustrating. Not to mention, there is just the one station. Also just one volume level. No dials. Just the radio with the unrecognizable music. Always playing. I will say that I never hear the same stuff twice..... It is constantly different. It almost seems to be evolving. Unlike me. No evolution here. Same shit, different day. Also on my desk, you will see a pencil. That's correct. One No. 2 pencil. Damn thing is never sharp enough. I always liked a sharp, fine point on my pencils. I remember that. This pencil is always stubby. No fine point here. Guess what? No sharpener, either. It's a dull pencil that never gets completely dull and yet cannot be sharp either. How is that for an interesting dichotomy? Oh yeah, the eraser is a never dull, too. Then we have my chair. Standard 1950's office chair fare. Metal. Creaky. Uncomfortable. Some type of cross between pleather and Naugahyde on the arm rests. Oh so sheik! No lumbar support. No swivel capabilities. It does roll, though. Apparently, my superiors for this position feel that less is more. Perhaps they get more production out of me when I have nothing to distract me. Speaking of my superiors, I will just bet you are wanting to know more about them, right? You'd like to know, since I am dead, who it is I actually work for, right? When you find out..... let me know.....

Chapter 3

Yes, you heard me right. I have no idea who it is I work for. At first, I thought, well, this must be heaven because I am not in a pit of fire and brimstone.... What the Hell is brimstone, anyway? Does anyone really know? I know I have heard a definition somewhere, I just don't really remember.... Or care.... Anyway.... Since I am constantly surrounded by this fluorescent white glow and my clothing is what I had on when I died, only white, I figured I had made it to heaven. All of that sinnin'. All of that drinkin'. All of that druggin'. All of that cussin'. All of that hate, anger, avarice, and revenge. All of it swept under the rug like a neat pile of dust bunnies and I got a free pass to Cloud City. Where's Lando? Heh heh.... Where's Lando.... Like "Where's Waldo," but it's Where's Lando......As in Lando Calrissian.....Cloud City.... Star wars..... Oh never mind..... I figured I was supposed to be looking for some Pearly Gates. It was supposed to be me, a Rabbi and a Pastor at the gate being asked a series of questions by St. Peter to determine our worthiness. Nothing. No white light. No gate. No St. Peter. I was never much into world religions so I was never very clear on any other interpretations of the afterlife but I am damn sure no one expects what I got...

A friend indeed.....

2008-12-01T15:57:00.000-08:00

You know, it's funny. They say you can't pick your family. I guess that is, for the most part, true. They say you CAN and DO pick your friends. I think this is patently false. Think of how many people have come into your purely by mistake and have become good, close friends. Think of how many people just kinda sashayed into your little world and the next thing you knew, you were trading secrets and recipes with them. It happens so often that it is hard for me to believe that we have ANY say in who our friends are. We have the chance and/or choice to keep said folks in our lives, true. But how they come to us is totally random. Or part of a specific, God-like plan. Whichever you choose to believe. I happen to think that the people that come and go in and out of our lives that we truly consider friends are there for a reason and we will never know what that exact reason until the end. Either theirs or ours. I say this because how often do we have someone close to us that we swear will be our bestest bud forever and then they go away. Only to come back and pick up right where you left it. Then leave again etc.... It has happened so many times for me with SO many good friends that I am excited for the next 30 years to see who else comes and goes. One person I would like to highlight is my dear friend Christy Guin. I really don't even remember when and how we met. She will more than likely kick my ass for this faux pas but remember, I destroyed A LOT of brain cells over the years. There is A LOT I cannot remember. All I know is that Christy and I, somewhere along the path of life, became thick as thieves. Literally. We followed many of the same destructive paths in life and as a result, came to understand one another more than anyone else. We clicked. We read each other's minds. We were like brother and sister. Except for that fact that we made out like drunken fools a time or two which cancelled out the brother and sister thing. Maybe more like kissing cousins...... Ewwwwww no. That's just even more gross. It really is. Okay. We were very good friends who liked each other enough to share a brain but never a bed....... Maybe...... I'll never tell....... If we did, it was innocent....... Maybe...... I"ll never tell. It did seem, for several years, that we shared a brain. She would have a boyfriend, I was married, and yet we still managed to ALWAYS be there for one another. To her boyfriends, I was her gay friend Brad. To my ex-wife, she was a dirty little secret even though nothing ever happened between us while I was married, I was still not allowed female friends so our conversations were always on the DL. We are so alike it has always been almost creepy. As I mentioned, we both have gone down destructive paths together. It is amazing that now, as we are both trying to mend some of our wreckage and move forward in our lives that we have once again connected on that level we know best. Deep. Spiritual. Surreal. Christy (Mia), I love you. Dearly. You know this. Always know it. Thank you for being there for me. I am here for you. Always. By the way, pick a different park next time and maybe I will next time.......

Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum.....

2008-11-30T13:45:00.000-08:00

Just listening to my my play list and wandering around the house with a pen in my hand as a microphone, singing along with all of the different songs..... Am I admitting this?....... No, I am making it up....... Or am I?.... Either way, play list is going and my Christmas Song, "Do They Know It's Christmastime?" comes on and gets me all weepy. Not hard to do these days, btw, but nonetheless, I got to thinking. As I do this time of year. For being such a Bah Humbug most of the time I sure do spend a lot of time worrying about everyone else at Christmas. The homeless. The poor. The working poor. Those in other countries where the Third World is their world. Maybe that is why I have become so cynical. Seems like every year, for every tear-inspiring good story, there are 1000 stories that break you down. You just get so tired of hearing about of all of the sadness and hate and terror and deprivation this time of year. All of that bad stuff right along side all of these mirth masters trying to tell you how wonderful things are this time of year. Sales up 30% over last year! Little 11 year old boy inspires 2000 people to feed the homeless. 9 year old girl provides bikes for 150 school mates. Talk about your brain freeze. Which way to go? Scrooge or Santa? Christ or Satan? Buddha or Blah? I sure as Hell don't know what y'all are gonna do but I am choosing the Happy side this year. I will be making a concerted effort to shed my Bah Humbug reputation and bring about a little Peace On Earth this year. I owe it to my family. I owe it to my kid. I owe it to my friends. Most of all, I owe it to me. Being a Gloomy Gus every year as long as I can remember has gotten me nowhere. In fact, it may have helped lead me to recent hopelessness and anger. Try something different this year. That might be the answer. Remember, the very definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. I know I am insane. Just don't hafta be all of the time. Maybe this time of year is a good time for all of us to put away the insane thinking we maybe do all year long and start some sane rational localized thinking that will keep the time of year in perspective. Kinda like the Little Drummer Boy. "Shall I play for him?" Hey, it's all he had. He did what he could in his little world and Jesus freakin' smiled. Hours old and Jesus smiled at the Boy. Amazing stuff, eh? I meant how I tied the title in....... Heh heh.......

I May Be Rancid Butter....

2008-11-26T08:09:00.000-08:00

I was given a great big ol' slap in the face today. A good kind of slap. So, maybe not a face slap, more like a back slap...... or ass slap..... mmmmmmm ass slap........ Anywho....... My good friend Jeff sent me a response to an apology that I had recently written to him. At the top of the note from him, in quotes, was one of my favorite sayings from one of my favorite movies. It was a line spoken brilliantly by Gene Kelly, playing the role of E.K. Hornbeck in "Inherit the Wind." The quote was spoken to the two young lovers, one of whom was the defendant in the Scopes Monkey Trial, as they questioned Hornbeck's sincerity. He plastered on a cocky grin and said, "I may be rancid butter, but I'm on your side of the bread." What the Hell is that supposed to mean? Who wants rancid butter on their bread? Wouldn't you rather have no butter at all than rancid butter? Ask the kids from the book "Lord of the Flies." You know, the book where the kids are stranded on an island without ANY adults around. Party, right? Read the book? Go read it. Tell me if they would like the rancid butter or no butter at all. Ask my mother who 24 hours ago was looking at a Thanksgiving with just the Old One, Vivian and myself. Now, in less than one day, she gets to spend it with both of her sons, all four of her grand babies and her daughter-in-law. Shitload of extra work around the house to do. More cleaning. More planning. More food. You think she gives two shits? Rancid butter, baby. She'll take it over no butter at all. The last example I will give is the hardest for me to admit to but it is a great one. My baby girl. She does not have Daddy around like most of her friends. Only gets to see him when it's "his turn" with her. No kid LIKES that situation. I have to say though, she has a helluva step-daddy around to help ease the pain. Phillip is a good man. He loves her. He can never replace me. He WILL never replace me. He does not try to replace me. He just does an amaZing job as a step-dad. For that I am grateful. It is with this gratitude that I have to apologize for calling him rancid butter, but I am sure he'll understand the point. She could have done a lot worse. She could not have done any better. Better having him than not having him at all. Rancid butter. Do you get it yet? Are ya feelin' me? I am fairly sure that it was in this tone that Jeff included the quote in his note. I think he was calling me rancid butter. A well-deserved moniker. At least, lately. I had allowed so many things to go wrong around me that I stopped being the good friend that so many of my old friends remember. I am still a friend to these people. If they will still have me. Jeff has said he will. For this, I am eternally grateful. Working on me is going to be the most challenging obstacle I will have faced in 35 years but I have to do it. I am glad to know that on the other side of the work, there will be open arms waiting to tell me how great of a job I did. I am sure of this. I have some great friends and you all know who you are. If I tried to start naming you all, I know I would forget one, and then they would get all pissy and shit, and then I would get a nasty response, and then I would..... Oh.... Sorry. Suffice it to say, I have been blessed and you ALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE. Thank you. From the bottom of my big heart that just closed up for a bit. Thank you, Jeff, for the inspiration. I'll take it any day. Mad props for tossing one of my sayings right back at me, bro. Much Love. Peace. Have a great Turkey Day and all that other crap.

Oh Man.... Am I Turning Into One Of Them?

2008-11-25T21:26:00.000-08:00

I have done something tonight that I am not proud of...... I have committed a personal travesty that I am not sure I will ever recover from...... I have submitted..... I have succumbed...... to putting Christmas music on my play list before Thanksgiving.......... I am not quite sure that I am going to get past this. I am the one screaming at the advertisers who shove Christmas down our throats before Halloween. I am the guy mumbling and moaning when I go to the stores and see the Christmas crap out before the Halloween shit is even put away. That grinds my gears. It really, really, really, really, really does, people. Y'all have no idea. It is as a result of this disdain and animosity that I rarely acknowledge the Holidays until Grandma and Papa's house gets totally decorated by Mom and Vivian. This year though, in the midst of all that has happened with me I really felt as though I could sneak them in. My two Christmas songs, I mean. There are truly only 2 Christmas songs that I will listen to with any fervor. They are "Do They Know It's Christmas?" by Band-Aid and "Little Drummer Boy" by Jars of Clay. Only two. Not saying I HATE every other Christmas song. You MAY catch me humming something now and again but I gotta tell ya folks, these two songs and that's it for me to full on tolerate. So, I guess I stand here folks, with only myself to apologize to but I will extend the apology to any of you who are as adamant as myself. It won't happen again. Just needed a little early "Christmas Spirit."

Just some rambling about humor, Davy Jones, and viewing the world......

2008-11-25T05:45:00.000-08:00

Not feeling a lot like I HAVE to or even WANT to do this blog today but for some reason here I am typing away and trying very hard to figure out exactly how I am going to tie all three topics in my title together. By now, be you an avid reader, you know that most of my titles are formed long before the blog is even complete in this rattled brain of mine so they become this constant battle of me staying on topic so please bear in mind that this one is not only NOT one that I am real excited about yet (which could change) but that it is also before 7am so..... well.... here it goes...... I have a helluva a sense of humor. This I know. Not just from being told. I just know because I am a fucking funny guy. I can take a story that would seem dull and uninteresting if told by most and make it into a 20 minute monologue complete with impersonations and sound effects. I can have a roomful of cloistered nuns peeing their pants and laughing their vow of silenced asses off about some of my drinking day stories. I managed several years of teaching to 12-17 year old students that voted me funniest teacher every year and that was not just because I was the only one willing from the secondary level willing to go into the Dunk Tank on Sequoia Days. I am funny. Dammit. I am fuckin' hilarious. I just learned that this quality of mine has screwed up more than most of the relationships that I have had with other people for years. Figure that one, eh? The funny guy gets the bad rap for being funny. Think about it, though. I did. Nothing wrong with being funny, as a rule. Especially if it is more self-effacing and less insulting. Truth is. We need humor. We just don't need charming, funny, cute, self-effacing fat guys like me who use it to attract people only to keep them as far away as possible. Why not? Remember Jim Belushi? Chris Farley? By all accounts of close friends and family this is exactly what these guys were! They self-destructed as a result. I almost did, too. I am one of the lucky ones. I now know this. I now need to find ways to better use and direct my humor. Not lose it. Please, God, NO!!!!! Just use it more wisely and in ways that attract rather than promote. I have managed (barely) to keep a few close friends over the years and I swear if there was any way to get these guys together on December 6th I would make them go to the Davy Jones concert with me. Yes, I am going to see an aging rock star from a band that was never really known for putting out incredible stuff but there were at least 5 13-14 year olds in the 80's who thought they did and would dig the show together. Oh well. I can dream right. Well, Sean, Jeff, Owen and Brian, if you wanna go, let me know. I will grab ya tickets. I guess the point of all of this is that I need to start being less global in my view of the world. I need to stay local. Worry about making me happy. Not the world. There is nothing more sad than a sad clown. I gotta be happy. I gotta be me, but I gotta be happy.

"I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy." - Ogden Nash

2008-11-08T19:57:00.000-08:00

I think I am approaching some kind of record, but this is in fact the third blog I have written since this morning. It may be boredom. It may be a lot on my mind. It may be how shitty I have felt today. Couldn't even make it to the movie with Grandma and V today. I am afraid my Gall Bladder has got to go. Which, of course, means more hospital time. Which, of course, means more poking, probing, and groping which I usually like but not when it's done with needles, scalpels and cold instruments..... Well, the cold instruments can be fun...... Anywho, I will be honest with you, all of the pain and torment I have been going through as a result of this crap has caused me to reflect on my drinking days. So much damage done to my body. So much damage to my life..... So much damage done to my brain.... It boggles the mind what alcohol does to you. I told you about Jack-Jack. Never got the chance to tell you about Super Dave. Another case like Jack-Jack, just a few more years drinking and a harder time standing. I don't think I saw him walk until the last day of his detox. You know, as I sit here writing about this stuff, I realize so clearly that it is not the physical shit that goes along with alcohol that is so fucking bad. It's not!!!!! It's the damage in your head. The constant want and need for a drink. Or if you are a crack addict, the need and want for that..... Or if you are a gambler.... Or if you are a sex addict..... You literally have NO control over the impulses. If I did not have AA in my life right now, if I didn't have someone to call instead of of going out for that drink, I'd be drinking. I need a drink so bad right now it's not even funny. I am calling my temporary sponsor as I am writing this right now. I have to. If I don't, I'm drinking. If I'm drinking, I'm dying. Good song just popped up on my play list. "The Reason" by Hoobastank. There are those who say we should be our own reasons to change. Sometimes we don't like ourselves to make any changes so it's a damn good reason we have people to change for. I have 3 reasons to change. 1 of them is 7 and doesn't fully understand Daddy's problem, although it has been explained as best as I could. The other 2 know they are reasons. Just hope they get it.

Ya know, some days are just better than others....

2008-11-08T13:44:00.000-08:00

I keep getting told that I will get through this. I am constantly reminded that it's a lot of work. I am reminded daily that once I am better, things will get better with all of the other people in my life. Today is one of those days that I just have a real hard time believing all of that. Have my little girl with me today. Even reached out to someone for some help. Someone who was part of my wreckage and they helped. Went to a great AA meeting. Going to the movies. Madagascar 2. So why am I crying? It's so damn hard to type right now. I can't even see the keyboard. I know that this is supposed to have something to do with my condition. Chemical imbalance and all. Just doesn't seem fair. Doesn't seem right that when things are all lined up, there always has to be that one thing that won't line up. It becomes an obsession. Much like the obsession of the alcoholic who wants to be able to drink like his fellow man. The Bi-Polar just wants to have a normal day. No medication. No ups and down. No uncontrolled crying over iCarly episodes. Then you add this damn music play list and I cannot keep it together. I guess the crying is supposed to be okay. In the loony bin, I had a Therapist, Lisa, who pointed out that, "...we have tear ducts for a reason..." Thanks, Lisa, but I think you can take your tear ducts and shove them up your ass. I am tired. Tired of crying. Tired of regretting. Tired of apologizing. Tired of missing someone. Tired of explaining. Tired of begging. Tired of being tired. In AA, we say that when someone has finally hit their bottom, they are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Well, I bottomed out a while ago and I am still sick and tired. I am not sick now, though. I am just tired. I want to be honest with you folks, because it has to happen for me to try to heal but I don't know that I have enough left to keep it up. Is this a cry for help? I, sure as Hell, hope not. Am I just venting? I, sure as Hell, hope so. Whatever it is, I know that I am going to need a new keyboard VERY soon. I am drenching this one. Especially since 3 am just came on. I'm sorry to sound so fucking weepy. I know that there are those who see it as a sign of weakness. In a way, I agree. I am weak. Takes a man to admit that, though. These fuckers out there who puff out their chests and try to convince themselves they have it together when they can't even keep their lives in order sicken me. Ooooooooo. That just made me smile knowing I know someone like that who is the biggest LOSER I know (that was the comment he left on my blog a few weeks ago so I am publicly returning the favor). Takes a REAL man to anonymously insult someone who just got out of a mental health facility. Not saying I know who it was but I sure hope they read this. Boy, do I ever. Oh man..... I feel better already. I am sure the tears will continue today but at least I can bring a smile back each time I think of this guy standing at the top of his own little hill...... all by himself.

...And I Would Have Gotten Away With It If It Wasn't For You Darn Kids...

2008-11-07T08:31:00.000-08:00

I am sure all of you readers remember the episodes of Scooby-Doo that we used to watch after school. It always ended with the gang catching the bad guy and he would inevitably utter the words in the title. Well, the title for this blog is not directed towards that gang (mmmmmmmm Daphne). The title here actually refers to one kid. My kid. I know that somewhere in the back of my disturbed and rattled and confused brain, one of the main reasons I am here is because of my beautiful baby girl Vivian. Since the two attempts on my life, my time spent with her has been SO amaZing. She is getting so big. She is growing up so fast right in front of my very eyes. I don't like it one bit. Sort of. On one hand, it is awesome seeing this little girl turn into a little person knowing that in just a few short years, she will turn into a full grown woman. On her own and taking over the world. On the other hand, she is also going from this little girl who thought I hung the starts and the moon to this mouthy, independent, head-strong, snot-ball and she will soon become a terrible teen and then who knows what from there. The dichotomy is astounding. No matter what, I am going to love her. I know unconditional love between parents and children. I have experienced it from mine. Instead of turning their backs on me on MORE than one occasion when they could and should have, they chose to love me and make make sure I knew they did. Especially with my recent attempts. A lot of parents would say, "Well, you gave up on you. Why shouldn't we?" Not mine. Mine were at the loony bin every day. Whether I wanted them to be or not. The old man even endured 2 family counseling sessions which I am sure he only heard about 1/4 of but he was there. Grandma couldn't make to the second one as she was in Canada with another family member who has NEVER flinched in her support, my Aunt Nancy. Add in my brother Chris, my half-brother Donny, my friends Todd and Brian and Layne, and you have a group of DARN kids that are among the other reasons I am here. I have received a great deal of support from many friends of old who have not seen what has happened to me in recent years. How my sobriety affected me in negative ways because I never followed the AA program the way it was intended, thus leading to the manifestation of other negative behaviors borne of Bi-Polar II disorder and a serious case of narcissism. No matter, they still sent their well wishes and they were amaZing. It is what is keeping me going. For those of you who I did hurt recently, I am officially asking for forgiveness. I am not asking you to play with me again. There are plenty of sandboxes out there for us to play in. I just want to know that you understand my intention came from a good place. Unfortunately, the road to Hell is truly paved with good intentions. I do not know what the future holds for Vivian. For me. For any of us. All we can do, in the immortal words of Elton John, from the song Empty Garden (on my play list btw), "...who weeded out the tears and grew a good crop."

P.S. Back into the meeting rooms of AA again. Just got my 30 day chip. If I can keep some continuous SOBRIETY, the 30 day chip belongs to Vivian. My 24 hour chip is reserved. That person will get it when they least expect it. I know that we are supposed to hold onto these if we feel we need to as a reminder. I will be getting so many more chips in the future, I want the first 2 most important 2 to go to the 2 most important people in my life. Just wanted y'all to know this tidbit of info. I am back in the rooms and doing the steps right this time. I feel better, too!!!

WARNING!!! WARNING!!!!! I MEAN THIS FROM A SPECIAL PLACE!!!!

2008-11-02T09:05:00.000-08:00

To my readers....

I love you. All of you. Even the haters. It is with this love that I find it necessary now to give out this fair warning. If you should decide to go to the movies sometime in the near future, and you should choose to see "Zach and Miri Make a Porno," please, for the love of God and all that is Holy, do not see this movie sitting next to your parents. This especially goes for those whose parents are above the age of 60. They get the humor. They are not unfamiliar with anal sex and full frontal male nudity. It is just not RIGHT sitting next to your mother as these items are being discussed and presented. There is nothing natural about this. It is just not a pleasant place to be. Please heed this warning. Please believe me. Just DON'T DO IT!!!!!!!!!!

Round Two....!!!

2008-10-31T13:33:00.001-07:00

Okay, I know that I threw a couple of extra blogs in between tales of recounting my time spent in the BHC. I was moved to put myself back in the facility after yet another attempt on my life. Had a few fleeting thoughts I felt I needed to get out there so hence this blog is a tad bit out of order but I am quite sure y'all will get past this. So, without any further adieu..... ROUND TWO.......

I knew almost the minute I walked out of the doors of the BHC the first time that I was going to try and take my life again. Somehow, someway, I was going to finish it. Not 5 full days out of my first ever visit to the unit, I tried just that. Unlike the previous attempt, this one was quite impromptu. The details of the day will be forthcoming in another blog. The purpose of this blog is to serve as a second chapter of "Fuck The Cuckoo's Nest, This is Real Life...." I realized how many wonderful and amusing people I left out that needed some true credit and mention. Not to mention I met a whole new slab o' crazies to talk about. Once again, I am not going for a boring recounting.. I want the truth to be known. I want to entertain and touch as I only know how through my writing. I will talk about my fellow "inmates" first and then deftly move onto the staff.

I would be both remiss and a terrible "boyfriend" if I did not start off talking about my on again off again "girlfriend" Brenda..... Ah Brenda..... My hot tamale. My little chimichanga. My little Mexican firecracker. She took to me like a moth to flame. We hit it off and started our first "relationship" in mere minutes after we first met.We, of course, proceeded to "break-up" approximately 3.5 minutes later. It was heart wrenching. I went through a mourning period that lasted all of 36 seconds. Fortunately, by the 37th second, we were back together. This time our "relationship" lasted 8.5 hours. It was bedtime. I snuck to my room before she could find a reason to break up. As soon as breakfast rolled around, we were done again. This pattern continued for the duration of my first stay. We just never could keep it together. It may have had something to do with the lack of any physical contact and almost no emotional connection but I tend to lean towards her dislike of dating gringos. Whatever the reason, at first it seemed destiny was our enemy. Until she showed up in the intake room with me on my return. Seemed she had a relapse with some booze so our love got it's crappy second chance. Another face from the first time around that I encountered in intake was Clif. Tears and hugs abound when we saw each other. You remember the crotchety old fart Clif from Round One who up and disappeared one day? Turns out when they hooked him up to ECT they stopped his heart cold. Damn near killed him. He was all but dead. He was shipped to another hospital and when his heart was better he found himself back in a world that he could not handle. This is not some meek old man. Former Marine. Veteran. Cop. Long-haul trucker. Broken. Destroyed. A shadow. I was sad that he and I would not be on the same ward again but I am sure he is getting the help he needs.That is all that matters. The last face I saw before I made it to the ward was John T. John was in and out of consciousness of often while on the ward, I found it hard to believe that he would survive on the outside. Depression was eating him alive. I am hapy to report that he looked better. Not great. Better. This time around on the ward, I found a fae..... "Good Morning, Beautiful" break.... excuse me.....MORE LATER>>>>>>

Oh Gee.... Up Again..... Gotta a question, though...

2008-10-26T01:09:00.000-07:00

So I had one of those "moments" today. You know what I mean, right....? A Hollywoodish moment. Let me describe it and see if anyone can relate and then subsequently give me some advice. I am walking into a local Circle K along with several others and this woman picks me right out of the crowd and asks me if I am from the area. I have to preface this with 2 details. I was wearing sunglasses so none of that kind eyes shit. She was FAR from being unattractive. Okay, with those details in mind, I told her I was familiar with most of Mesa and could probably be of some assistance. Long story short, figured out where she was headed, got her in the right direction...... Good Morning, Beautiful just came on....tear break.......... okay, back now.... then she hugged me and said Thank You a thousand times and then she was on her way. Here is my question. Did I miss an opportunity? Keep in mind I was waiting at said Circle K for a ride that was taking me in the direction she was going..... To a church..... Did the higher power just fall out of the sky and land on my face and wiggle and I missed it? Help!!!!

P.S. Check out updated PlayList!!!!!

Quick note at 3am....

2008-10-25T03:49:00.000-07:00

As God as my witness, I am trying.... These nights are hard. I know that when many people are hurt they are able to move through it quickly and find happiness in other ways. In other places. I, myself, cannot. This up and down crap is about enough to drive me to distraction. "Some days it don't come easy, and some days it don't come hard, and these are the days that never end..." Meatloaf. "I Would Do Anything For Love." I know I just a blog on music that I have yet to finish. This one is not about music. It's about doing anything for love. Everyone keeps telling me not to beat myself up. Stay strong. There was an amaZing man in that ample body years ago. The guy that could and would do anything for anyone. He just got lost somewhere along the way.... I am trying folks..... God, Buddha, Confucius, Mohammad, Shiva, and whoever other Holy Person as my witness. I am trying..... It's so damn hard. I know there are some of you who have been here. Either you told me before my story unfolded or many of you after so I know that there are many who feel my pain. To those of you who have expressed this, Thank You. Those of you who forgot/forget what it is/was like, I am so sorry. Continue to stand in judgement. I deserve it. I will always deserve it. Always and Forever. Poison. Period. Infinity. The End. On a positive note, got an invitation to Meatloaf concert next Saturday. I think I am gonna go.

"I Got The Music In Me..."

2008-10-24T07:15:00.000-07:00

I am home. Well, sort of. I am out of the BHC and feeling safe. Feeling safer than I have in a very long time. Feeling better, too. I know I have made mistakes. I know there is a great deal of wreckage. I am prepared to fish or cut bait. "To err is human, to forgive is divine. " Beautifully said by Alexander Pope. Okay, so, anywho.... What am I writing about today? Well, lemme tell ya, at first, I was going to write Round Two of the Cuckoo's Nest. Had a lot more to add. More about fellow "inmates" and staff. Great stuff. Gonna hafta wait for a little bit. I also passed on an Open Letter I had written in the loony bin the first time. Good stuff. Breathtaking and heartfelt. One of my better direct letter's too someone and I was and am very proud of it. Soon Folks. Soon. While I was in activity/creativity therapy this last round, the song "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" and I was inspired to start a whole new music blog..... We had "the Peak" on in the room (my choice of course, LOVE YOU MONICA!!!) and it dawned on me how little I get to listen to music in there. Only a few select activity groups have music at all and one of them is relaxation group where they only play Ocean sounds which have been difficult for me to listen to since June. Knowing how how much music means to me y'all have to know the torture. It's so much a part of my everyday. Especially when I needed to think about a special someone. Some songs are just damn impossible to listen to. I listen anyway because I like knowing I can feel. No matter how hard the feelings are, at least they are true feelings. I spent so long lying and manipulating, I rarely knew what feeling was real and what was part of my imagination. Thing is, I could ALWAYS tell the emotions brought on by the music was real. True. A bit of reality in a sea of bullshit, for ya!! .... For instance.... "18th Floor Balcony" did so many things to me emotionionally you would think the overload of emotion would be intimidating. In fact, I am able to have a deep cleansing cry each time I hear this song. Helps me get rid of stuff I no longer need. A real tough one for me is "What a Good Boy." This song literally brings me to me knees. The words always made such clear sense to me and I was never able to identify woth a song more than that one. The lines, " I couldn't tell you I was wrong, ckickened out, took a pen and a paper, sat down and I wrote this song.... I couldn't tell you you were right, so instead I looked in the mirror, watched TV and laid awake all night..." reach me and touch me in ways that no other song has EVER been able to. This song is a tough one for me. A necessary one, but a tough one. The next song that draws emotion from deep inside is "Good Morning, Beautiful." Even though I no longer have someone to to say those words to everyday, I still find myself singing it everyday. No matter what. "Good morning, beautiful.... How was your night? Mine was wonderful with you by my side..." Such simple language. So hard to say. Billy Vera gets to me all of the time as well. "At This Moment" is one of those songs that is timeless and touching. He is saying that NO MATTER WHAT his woman has done, NO MATTER WHERE she is going, he could NEVER hate her. He loved her. His loved was real even if hers wasn't. A new twist on my music tastes. Since my recent suicide attempts, I have found myself gravitating towards music regarding that subject matter. Blink 182's "Adam's Song," with it's classic line... "Please tell Mom this is not her fault." Also Third Eye Blind. "Jumper." "Wish you would step back from that ledge my friend...." Great line. Great song. Hard, though. Added a rough song to my playlist. Pink Floyd's "One of my Turns." Kind of dark song. It helps to explain the dark place I go in my rough times. I isolate. I get terrible, dark, dangerous thoughts. Rather than allowing these dark thoughts to manifest, I have used lies and manipulationto quell the darkess. Probably always will. Always and forever. Poison. Period. Infinity. The End.

Back to the Drawing Board....

2008-10-07T19:29:00.000-07:00

It is with heavy heart and tail tucked deep between my legs that I make the following announcement.... I am heading back to St. Luke's Behavioral Health Center tomorrow morning. Why? Well, suffice it to say I am not feeling safe out here in the real world. I have once again attempted, unsuccessfully, to end my life prematurely. This time with a buttload more ammunition and no walking. Still unsuccessful. Another failure to add to the list. The funny thing about this one is that it was relatively impromptu. One minute I was sitting on the phone with my Mom discussing my future as a writer and the next minute I was swallowing enough muscle relaxers and sleeping pills to fell a horse. It was, again, not enough. Makes me scared if I ever go back to drinking. My tolerance has grown exponentially in my years of sobriety. Another good reason to stay away from the bottle. Anywho, it was once again pointed out to me that I have a purpose on this planet. God, Jehovah, Yahweh, or whatever you choose to call him is not letting me take matters into my own hands. So, why am I going into BHC after the fact? I do not feel safe. Plain and simple. If I was allowed to roam around one day more, I am afraid I would just try again. I need serious help. The kind of help I can find in the safety of the BHC walls. You see, the problem is, I don't want to die.... but I don't want to live either.... Figure that one out. When you do, give a hint as to what the fuck it's about. I can partially explain it this way. I knew that I would find some forgiveness out of the wreckage I left behind. I knew those closest to me would forgive me. They did. It is this forgiveness that I cannot live with. I also knew that others very close to me would not readily forgive if at all. It is this forgiveness that I cannot live without. "Aye, there is the rub...." This is just a glimpse into the dark recesses of my distorted mind. A peek at the machinations of a bi-polar freak's brain. I am NOT asking for an outpouring of sympathy. I am NOT seeking undue attention. I am just informing anyone who cares for two reasons. Number one, so you can see that if you or anyone around you suffers in the darkness that is bi-polar/clinical depression that you need to make sure you/they are safe. Recognize the signs. Listen to the cries for help. Number two.... I need your prayers. If prayer is your thing. If not, send me some good thoughts telepathically. I need the thoughts and prayers, people. I am scared shitless. I am worried that there is no hope/cure for me. I am truly frightened. I know that for some of you that read this, prayer and good wishes are the farthest things from your mind when it comes to me. I have hurt you too deeply to deserve anything positive. You actually wish I would have been successful on one of the attempts. That is fine. Feel that way. Keep it to yourselves, though. It does neither of us any good if you send the hate my way. Okay, so thank you for listening. I shall be incommunicado for a little while. I hope I come out on the other side the better man I want to be. Thank you in advance for the prayers and thoughts. It means more than you will ever know!!!

A Day in the Life...

2008-10-04T07:55:00.000-07:00

I realize that there are not too many "Day in the Life" stories that are all that interesting. Perhaps if it is about the President or a combat soldier or an Er doctor at a busy hospital it may grab a readers attention. I am merely a tired, miserable, Jack of all trades-Master of none, inebriate who has really done nothing remarkable with the possible exception of donating DNA to the cutest 7 year old you have ever seen. Nonetheless, if you will indulge me for a while, you may just read something that might save your life. I want to tell you the story of the day I attempted suicide. The names will be changed to protect the innocent if necessary but the places and events shall be exactly as they happened save perhaps a few minor embellishments for the sake of entertainment. An entertaining suicide attempt? C'mon folks, you know me well enough now. You had to know if I ever tried to go out, I would do it with style. I am honestly NOT trying to make light of the situation. I am merely dealing with it as best I know how. With humor. I hope that this narrative will shed some light on chemical dependency, bi-polar disorder, signs from God and talking to inanimate objects.

I cannot say the day started out like any other. In fact, it was one of the most bizarre mornings I ever experienced. Without going into great detail (as it would do you no good to explain how I got where I was) I found myself wandering around downtown Phoenix in the wee hours of that Friday morning. It was surreal. Watching a big city wake up like that. One minute you go from dark empty streets to streets filled with cars, people and activity. It was really something. It was really something incredible. I was amused and scared at the same time. It was quite a thrill. I wandered around the streets for a while. Looking for, I don't know what. Perhaps a place to sleep. Perhaps a place to help me get some of the thoughts of hopelessness and suicide out of my rattled and confused brain. I knew in my heart of hearts that suicide was inevitable. I knew how I was going to do it. I knew that it was this day. Bar none. No ifs, ands or buts. Just didn't know when. Initially I found myself at the Salvation Army chapel. Hoping the doors would be open so I could get some help. Instead of walking into open arms of safety and salvation, I found the place locked up and gated up tighter than Fort Knox. Scrap that idea. Fuck them! Their marquee out front said something to the effect of, " Give Satan an inch and he will become your ruler." I laughed under my breath at this. I suppose from a religious perspective that was exactly what I was doing. I was giving Satan those few inches so he could take over for me. Don't know why that tickled me so much. Anywho, I moved on. Walked to the YMCA. You know, "It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!!!" Yeah, well, that is if you can figure out which door to go in. I walked in the wrong door and ended up walking into the lobby of their Gym, surrounded by workout junkies with their MP3 players, short shorts, and gym bags swirling around me at 100mph. Had to piss so I asked the girl at the front desk if I could use the restroom that was all of 7 feet from her. Nope. Not without a membership. So much for the friendly place glorified by the Village People. So, I sat in the quaint little coffee shop attached to the gym, listening to the Pink Floyd CD that the coffee shop employee was playing. Just sat there. Just was. Was is the past tense of be. I was not being. I was was-ing. After several minutes of achieving nothing, really needing to take a leak and charge up my phone I set out to find...Starbucks. The only place I could think of where I could plug in and hang out without anyone caring. During my respite, I was able to relieve myself, watch the morning hustle and bustle and send off a goodbye text to my mother. The response was not favorable and I was in no mood to be talked out of my plan by someone who actually cared. So, when the tears started to flow uncontrollably, I moved on to seek out friendlier skies. Not long after passing the B of A building and the Phoenix Convention Center, I found myself at St. Mary's Basilica. There I stood in front of this beautiful building. Full of hope, I stood at the bottom of the steps, wondering if beyond those doors my "sign" awaited. I walked in and was immediately was taken aback by the beauty I was beholding. Everything I thought it would be and more. I was humbled. I was hopeful. I sat in the last pew, pulled down the kneeling thingy, knelt down and started to bawl. Bawling is not even the word. More like blubbering. I was almost reduced to wailing when I decided to start talkin' to Jesus. The Christ figure hung above the pulpit so gloriously, I was certain he would fly down from his place and sit next to me. I could almost feel his loving arm around my shoulder, comforting me. No flying Jesus for me. So I turned my attention the Blessed Virgin Mary in hopes that a feminine touch was what I needed.... She ignored me as well. I started blubbering again. Louder this time. I continued this for several minutes when suddenly I heard the doors behind me open. I immediately stopped the severe crying and toned it down to a light whimper. I did not want to disturb some poor parishioner who was just looking for some peaceful, prayerful meditation before their bust day at work. I didn't know who it was so I maintained a level that was acceptable. I stiffened in my seat and waited for them to pass. After about 30 seconds, when no one passed, I sheepishly looked around. To my surprise it was a priest!!! I was sure this was my "sign!!!" A man of God here to save me. I started blubbering again to get his attention and waited for his hand on my shoulder and the obvious question of, "Are you alright, my son?" Not a chance, people. No such luck. He puttered around a bit, wandering the interior perimeter of the Basilica and just as effortlessly as he waltzed in, he was gone. My sign, gone. My hope, fading. My chance at not attempting suicide, off to do whatever it is priests do (no, people, I will not be throwing out an altar boy comment at this time). Blubbered out, I was just about to get up and leave when I heard the door open once again.... I just KNEW this was it!! My savior incarnate was about to walk through those doors and pull me from my Hell... heh heh.... not a fucking chance.... heh heh.... Instead it was many people, snapping pictures and babbling in some foreign language I guessed to be Russian. These folks meandered around being led by a tall, white-haired dude in shorts and a T-shirt. He brazenly walked right right up on the pulpit and started speaking to the group. I thought that was pretty ballsy for a tour guide until he stepped out a side door and returned moments later in full priest garb. The "tour guide" was a freakin' priest! Not wanting to be rude, I stayed as long as I could. Standing, sitting, kneeling and chanting in Russian (I guess). After about 10 minutes I felt as though this was NOT my sign so I slipped out the back door and went down the steps. It is at this point that I was able to abscond the pills that would be necessary for my attempt. Where and how I got them, for the purpose of this blog, shall remain a secret. Honestly, it's not that important. I got 'em. I had 'em. I planned to take 'em. It's it and that's that. Once I had them in my possession I made my way back to St. Mary's. Not sure why. I must have felt as though I was not ready to do the deed without giving the God thing one more try. A "last hoorah" you might say. After my dismal and disappointing attempt at finding a sign INSIDE the church, I turned my attention to the OUTSIDE. Nestled comfortably between the Basilica and the Diocese is a grassy/fountain/statue park. Several shade trees dot the nice little area making it perfect to sit and relax. If you can ignore the ants. Which I did. I picked out a nice tree directly across from a bronze statue of St. Francis of Assisi. He was posed kneeling in front of some birds on the ground, apparently feeding them. I sat and stared into his blank eyes for a few moments. Then I spoke to him. Out loud. For anyone to hear. I said, "So Frankie, I need a sign. Gimme somethin'. Wiggle a finger. Blink an eye. Say something profound. Make one of these birds fly..." Give you one guess as to what happened next..... If you guessed nothing, you would be incorrect. Something DID happen. No, the statue did not move. No bronze birdies taking flight. Instead, a homeless woman (she was a textbook example of a bag lady, btw) began shouting, "Father, Father!!" I figured it was not her actual Daddy so I turned around. Lo and behold.... Another priest!!!! Put on your game face, Big Man!!!! This is it!!!! Blubber a bit. Talk to Frankie some more. He is bound to come over after the bag lady is done bending his ear. Especially if you look distressed! I heard the priest say a few "god Bless You's" to the lady and I was CERTAIN this was it!!!! I waited for the comforting hand of the priest to rest on my shoulder. I knew he was going to be my saving grace.... After about 30 seconds of nothing, I turned around..... Gone.... Disappeared.... Nowhere to be seen..... Vanished into thin air..... I was sure that this last snub was God giving me the finger. "Fuck you, Fat Boy!!!!! Go ahead and kill yerself!!!!! Look at the wreckage you have left behind you!!!!! I, GOD, command you to do it!!!!!" Well, that was what I was hearing in my head, not what he was really saying..... You know me..... But how could it be anything else? "Oh God!!!!! Why hast thou forsaken me?" Famous words from a famous book..... I was feelin' it. Totally. Forsaken. Ignored. Left to die. Left with no other choice. Truth be known? I was ready. As I mentioned earlier, I was convinced that this was the ONLY solution. There was NO other way. So, when I looked around and saw there was no one watching, I put the stolen pills, all 10 of them, in my mouth and washed them down with my Dr. Pepper. I sat under that tree, across from St. Frank for about 20 minutes. Nothing was happening. Nada. Zilch. Zip. What the fuck????? I took 1 of these pills at half the strength and I was on my ass. How come they weren't working that quickly now????? Goddammit!!!!! Can't even get this right!!! Frustrated, I stood up and lit a cigarette. I walked over to the water jugs provided by the Catholic Church for the homeless so as to get some water to combat the cotton mouth. As I approached the water, a man wearing a Deacon name badge walked up to me and said "You know those things will kill you, right?" No shit. Word for word. Verbatim. Obviously I was a tad taken aback. What the fuck was this man talking about? Had he seen what I had done? Did he know my terrible secret? Was he going to save me? Was he going to stop me from dying????? No dammit!!!!! I didn't want that!!!! Then it dawned on me. He was just pontificating to me on the dangers of smoking. I had to laugh under my breath. I could not help but think, "They won't kill me quicker than the pills I just swallowed, ASSHOLE!!!" Alas, I refrained from saying this and opted for some polite comment about needing to quit someday soon. I started to walk away when he gently grabbed my arm, and with outstretched hand said, "Here you go." In his hand was an assortment of coins. Pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. At first, I was confused. What was this man doing? Then it dawned on me. He thought I was homeless. He measured me up to be a bum. A beggar. A street person. Granted, I had not showered that morning but I was quite sure I didn't stink. I was not dressed in rags. Had a nice polo and my beige cargo shorts on, neither of which was stained. What had I projected that caused this man to think me homeless? Was it the desperation in my eyes? No way! I had sunglasses on. He could not have seen redness or swelling around my eyes that would indicate drunkenness. Did I reek of death as some homeless are apt to do? Must have been the death smell thing. Whatever it was, it kinda made me sad. Is this what I had been reduced to? Is this how the world saw me? Was this how I was to go out? Either way, I politely turned down his offer knowing I would not need his change where I was going.... Where was that exactly? Heaven? Hell? Wherever I was headed I just wished I would get there quickly. Now, this is where the story gets funky. Some have called the events that follow "my sign." Some have said it was my "will to live" that is inherent in all humans. Whatever it was, it is why I am writing this today. Okay. Here it goes... After the Deacon walked away, my first instinct was to walk my ass back to St. Frank and the shade tree. Sit down and tell ol' Francis to kiss my rosy red ass!!! Then I would just fall asleep under the tree. A deeeep sleep, as it were. No one would be the wiser. I was just a bum sleeping in the park. That was my first instinct. Not the instinct I followed though. No siree. I followed my second instinct which was, get this, to walk. That's right, walk. Where? Dunno. Why? Dunno. Just know I started walking. Eastbound on Van Buren. I got to 7th street and made it across just fine. Where was I going? What was I hoping to accomplish? I was not 100% sure but in the back of my now very cloudy mind it ran that there were hospitals this way. That must have been it. Hospitals. They would help me, right? Wait, I didn't want help..... I wanted to die..... Then..... Black...... Everything went black...... No white light. No tunnels. No family members waiting with open arms to help me cross over..... Just black.....

I have no idea how much time had passed before the blackness was interrupted. It could have been a matter of minutes. It could have been hours. It really didn't matter how long it was. What mattered was that the blackness was disturbed. This meant one thing. I was not dead. I had failed in my attempt. The blackness was replaced by a face.A paramedic or fire fighter's face. Didn't make no never mind to me. I didn't care what branch of the life-saving brigade this guy was from, he represented failure to me. My failure. My inability to complete yet another task. Dammit, Dammit, Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!!!!!!!! I know I should have been grateful with this development. However, gratitude was the farthest thing from my mind. Fortunately the blackness returned quickly. Very quickly. Almost as suddenly as it had appeared the first time. Perhaps it was permanent this time.... Not!!! Again, some unknown amount of time passed as I was in the blackness. Next thing I knew, I was staring at a pony-tailed man. I assumed him to be an Er doctor. What worried me was that damn pony-tail. I was sure it was going to flop in my mouth. I shall never know if it did because the blackness returned once again. Many minutes, possibly hours, once again had passed. The next thing I knew, there was a young woman with black hair and an unidentifiable accent fussing over me. It was evident to me that I was in a hospital bed. What hospital though? What time was it? Man, I was hungry, too!!!!! Once I gathered my thoughts, I formed the previous questions and concerns into words. I was in St. Luke's Hospital Intensive Care Unit, it was 3 am on Friday night, Saturday morning, and food was on it's way. Wow, that was a lot to swallow. Instead of trying to process it all, I went numb. "Dinner" came rather unceremoniously. I finished it quickly and decided to, once and for all, put an end to this "Day in the Life." I decided to create my own blackness. I went to sleep.

There it is. Love it or leave it. Stupid choice. No other way to say it. Selfish, self-absorbed and cowardly. I realize I was going to shed light on Chemical Dependency in this blog so I guess I could do that right now.... Put your sunglasses on.... Here it goes..... I have both!!!! Never knew it. I knew I had problems with alcohol and some drugs but I never imagined it was a Chemical Dependency. Nor was I aware that I was severely Bi-Polar and that folks with this affliction tend to gravitate towards chemicals as an escape from the nightmare they live. They are also REALLY good liars. That is not to say I have lied during the production of this blog. I have not. Most honest I have been in a long ass time. Just ask Dr. Agudo. She thinks the meds are working just fine.... heh heh.... Okay, Doc..... heh heh....

Fuck the Cuckoo's Nest, This is Real Life...

2008-09-30T16:07:00.000-07:00

I have spent almost 2 weeks in the Psych Ward. The official name of the unit is Adult Services Unit III/CD. The CD standing for Chemical Dependency.I did not enter this unit due to a necessary detox. In fact I am certain there were no legal or illegal substances in my body that would warrant the "CD" label. I am guessing/hypothesizing that I am on this unit due to my past experiences with chemical dependency. Basically, these are my people. I, of course, am here in the first place for attempting suicide. They were going to keep me somewhere no matter what. It just so happened this ward had an open bed when the ICU needed to kick me out. I was just going to be held here until space opened up on another unit. I fit in so well here they kept me. I am certainly glad they did! I have seen so many things I have never seen before. I have met so many people, the likes of which I never knew existed. I have experienced so many emotions that I am finding exhaustion at the end of the day. I don't want this blog to turn into a run of the mill recounting of the personalities that have crossed my path so if it does, tell me. I want an accurate, touching, funny, heartfelt and REAL tribute to the men and women living and working on this unit.

I will begin at the beginning. I was brought to intake by my ICU nurse and, for some reason, a security guard. I was kind of amused by this because I actually felt more like a VIP than a suicide threat. While I was intake, I was treated well and even given some cookies and soda while I waited. Then it was down to the unit. Here I met Lee. Lee is a Psych Tech on the unit and one of my favorite people that I met. He was smiling and accommodating the entire time I was there. I was surprised to learn later in my stay that he was in his fifties. I would have guessed him my age or younger. One of my favorite fellow "inmates," Laurie, informed me that, "Black men age well." This seemed rather unfair. They already have a well known advantage in the anatomical department and now I learn they have cornered the "aging well" market. Just not right. The next few days proved to be the scariest but most amusing days for me as I got to know the other "inmates..." There was Clif. The "senior" member of the yard both in years and in time on the ward. Clif was the epitome of cantankerous. Racist, bigot and crotchety old fart would be words that well describe this man. Underneath all of that was a scared, depressed, lonely man who had spent a lifetime being confused and misused by those closest to him. I ignored the racist comments. I let the bigotry slide. I paid very close attention to the many tears and soft-spoken cries for help. This man called it as he saw it. Right, wrong or indifferent. There is NEVER anything wrong with that. Maybe his views were skewed. Who am I to judge? Clif disappeared one day. He left for his Electro-Convulsive Therapy (shock treatments) one day and never returned. I miss him. Truly. Warts and all. Next we had Jeffre. Just a kid. Just a baby.At the tender age of 24, Jeffre had been in and out of jail, hospitals, Er's, and doctor's offices in the last 2 years more than most people have been in a lifetime. You see, Jeffre was a mixed-martial arts fighter with quite an attitude problem. He drew a fight on 5 days training and was mismatched with a fighter he had never seen tape on. Needless to say, tragedy struck. The other fighter managed to place several knee shots to Jeffre's face. His facial bones were shattered. Many surgeries later, he found himself in constant pain. This was due to nerve damage he suffered as a result of the bones fusing together. The nerve damage caused him to twitch and shake like a Parkinson's patient 4 times his age.When he was able to keep his eyes open, which was very rarely, I found him to be sweet, pleasant, scared and extremely depressed. I could not help but to feel for him. Doctors pumped him full of pain meds to the point that they all but stopped working. Typical of people in his position, he turned to other ways to control the pain. Namely heroin. This poor kid didn't stand a chance. It broke my heart every time I laid eyes on him. I am quite sure he would never want my pity. I never showed him any. I just nodded knowingly and tried very hard to just be a friend. Jeffre related well to another "junkie," as he called himself, Max. Another hard case heroin addict. This kid was never comfortable while he was here. In and out of jail and hooked on that evil drug, he stood little chance of seeing his 30th birthday. All he talked about during his stay was drugs. What he used to do. What he wanted to be doing. What he was going to do when he got out. There is no other way to feel for this kid but sad. Nice family. World at his feet. Beautiful fiancee'... and all he could think about was that poison. Not to mention the system deemed him cured of his needs after just 3 days. LONG before, in my unprofessional opinion, he should have been. I have it on good authority that Max scored some "H" within hours of his release. Now we have to talk about the most colorful "inmate," Jack. Or as I called him, Jack-Jack.... Jack-Jack stood 6 feet 7 inches. He was all but skin and bones. His hair was long, stringy and poorly dyed black. His mouth was filled with sparse and rotting teeth. His eyes were a constant red and his skin was the very picture of sallow. He was, for all intents and purposes, a complete wreck. Jack-Jack was in here to detox from alcohol. I have never, in my 35 years on this planet, ever seen a man or woman in his condition. The way he looked, the way he acted, the babbling incoherently, the inability to maneuver his lanky frame all said to me that he was a strung out meth, crack and heroin junkie. Not the case at all. Jack-Jack loved beer. That was it. Beer. In AA we are taught that alcohol is "cunning, baffling and powerful." Jack-Jack was living proof. He was the poster child for the evils of alcohol. It took him 3 whole days to be able to walk on his own, talk coherently, and function as a human being. Even at that, he was just barely. During his "drying out" period there was only 1 time I saw a glimmer in his eye. It was when I asked if he was a musician. Something about him made me suspect it was so and he lit up like a Christmas Tree when I broached the subject. Being as how this was his incoherent period, the conversation was garbled and short. This notwithstanding, I still managed to touch a nerve that did his poor soul some good. Even after his detox was "over," it was still abundantly clear that Jack-Jack had done a tremendous amount of damage to his brain. One fellow "inmate," Tim, remarked, "His brain is definitely damp, if not wet all the way." So sad to see. On his release date, Jack-Jack's son came along with his wife to pick him up. Such a cute little 3 year old boy. Bright eyed and bushy tailed. Loves his Daddy. That much was obvious. I hope, with all of my heart, that Jack-Jack makes it in the cruel world. I suppose I should talk about Tim being as how I just quoted him. I need to really share the story of this amazing gentleman. At first glance, with his trademark yellow shirt and red sweats, you might guess Tim to be a college professor on his day off. He stands well over six feet tall and spots an impressive shock of silver hair that fits him like a glove. Then he opens his mouth and you would swear he was "Ivy League Professor Man." The witticisms and and quips he spews forth would make you swear he just walked off of Harvard's campus. Nothing could be further from the truth. He is a retired, journeyman electrician with a high school education. At least, that's what he was before substance abuse and severe clinical depression got their terrible claws into him. He was forced to go in and out of so many hospitals and treatment centers that he actually uses the "express lane." This is neither an exaggeration nor a slam on Tim. I say this to emphasize the scope of these diseases and conditions. No one is immune. Young, old, black, white. People of all walks. People from all different places. They need help... We need help... I need help... Living inside these walls has afforded me the privilege of seeing all of these types of people on a day to day basis. I have seen the group of 24 change over completely 4 different times. In these turnovers, I have found several people who don't really need to be here. They are just here for 3 hots and a cot. Literally, these men and women have nothing wrong with them except the inability to take care of themselves. They stroll into an emergency room and threaten suicide. From there, regardless, they are whisked off to the deluxe accommodations of a mental health facility where they receive food, shelter and drugs. Most of the time, this is at our expense. "Our" being the taxpayer. These people come in and out of these places so often that they actually become addicted to the drugs they are administered. They detox off of the street drugs they are using then they need to detox off of the prescription drugs making the whole scene a vicious cycle that the average working stiff has to pick up the tab for! It is to the point that state funded health care won't help those who really need it. It just helps those who want free drugs and food. I won't name any of these leeches. I think putting their names in this blog would only serve to give them a chance to sue me. Believe me, if there was a way, these folks would find it. So, I will leave these denizens of the detox centers well alone. Back to the characters.... I'd like to spend a few moments discussing the staff. These amazing men and women have not only helped me feel better about myself but they have also maintained a level of professionalism unmatched in any field. The pre-dawn duo of Steven and Brian helped start every day off right. Always ready with a smile and truly interested in making things tolerable. Brian with his delivery service and Steven with his understanding of our needs. Katie, my night nurse (more often than not), should get a medal for keeping me sane among the insane. Her smile and pointed questions, combined with her genuine concern for my well-being, kept me alive and kicking during my 2+ weeks in the house. I really wish I could devote pages to all of the incredible people on this ward but I would write myself to death. Suffice it to say they all deserve an enthusiastic "Thumbs Up!" I would be remiss if I did not single out Vicki. She was one of the activity therapy specialists and possibly one of my favorite ladies here. We clicked almost instantly in a way that thrilled me. We had an adversarial but loving relationship. The kind of repartee I truly enjoy. I had a great deal of difficulty deciding whether or not to talk about this last staff member.... Sonya.... Beautiful, demure, sexy, sharp-tongued, intelligent, funny, assertive, sensitive, direct, efficient and just all around HHHHOOOOTTTTT Sonya!!!! I know what you are thinking. How can I possibly view a woman in such a light considering my suicide attempt had a great deal to do with the loss of the woman of my dreams? First of all, since I never heard from said dream girl the entire time I was on the ward, I figure it safe to say there is nothing left there. Secondly, my attraction to Sonya is, for the most part, quite surface. She is presently involved. We have, what amounts to, a clinical relationship. She the Psych Tech, me the patient. Not to mention the fact that I have sworn my heart to only one person should she ever want it and should I ever give it away for real. I bring up and speak about Sonya now because my attraction to her gives me hope that some day I may find someone, somewhere. I know now that due to my most recent mistake that only 100% honesty will work. Nothing short of absolute disclosure will do. Should I EVER (and it's doubtful) decide to enter into a relationship of some kind, I must practice full disclosure. No questions. It's imperative that I succumb to only honesty. That is all of the staff that I feel I can write about but I wish I could write about them all. Alas, I cannot. Needless to say, none of them will be forgotten. They are all unique and colorful and deserve my thanks. The last "inmate" I am going talk about is Wayne. We had similar stories that brought us to the unit but we came from VERY different backgrounds. I was raised in AZ in a nuclear, picture perfect family of 4. Wayne came from a large, disjointed and dysfunctional family that resided in Pennsylvania. Wayne moved to AZ less than a year ago and has 8 years of sobriety and clean time. He is a widower and single father.Wayne found himself on the ward due to severe suicidal thoughts. He felt as if his world was quickly crashing around him and rather than making a poor choice, he chose to get safe. He found safety in the halls of the ward. He quickly, and effortlessly, fell into a leadership role in almost every activity and aspect of daily life. A short man with NO Napoleonic complex and the heart of a lion. The kind of guy you'd love to have in your corner. He came across as a scrapper. That guy that would use a cheap shot if he needed to gain an advantage. All around, a great guy. A big support. A helping hand and a good ear. I hope I can stay in touch with Wayne on the outside. I know we could both use each other. Okay, so there it is. Some of the highlights.... If you can call them that.... I cannot say my time here was enjoyable. I also cannot say it was a complete waste of time. I truly feel as though I have grown. I am quite sure that I am healing. Was this place my salvation? Was it the beginning of the end? Only the higher power knows.....

I thought you meant Miranda Richardson.....Dammit!!!! Oh well.....

2008-07-20T22:24:00.000-07:00

So, I spent yesterday doing something I never imagined I would do.... No, I did not spend all day at an S & M day camp learning all of the uses for a bondage mask and a cat-of-nine-tails..... I can truly imagine myself doing that......Hmmmmmmm.... Note to self, check on day camps for adults only. Anywho..... That is not what I was doing. At approximately 2:30pm, I found myself at the Best Buy store in Phoenix. Not just any part of Phoenix. Oh no. Had to be Deer Valley. 35 miles from my humble abode. Vivian and Grandma in tow. Now, either I really wanted a big screen that only that particular Best Buy had or I carted my ample ass all that way to ensure my sweet daughter's chance to meet Miranda Cosgrove in person. I know what you are asking. "Who the HELL is Miranda Cosgrove?" First of all, shame on you if you have kids and don't know who she is. SHAME, SHAME, SHAME!!!!! Second of all, does it matter? Really? I mean, seriously, if your child wanted to meet someone and get an autograph from them at a Best Buy, would it matter what their battery of work included? It just so happens that I do know Miranda Cosgrove and her battery of work because I watch TV with my kid. I find Vivian's shows a refreshing break from the A&E, Discovery Channel, and History Channel programs I tend to navigate towards. Miranda Cosgrove happens to be the star of "iCarly" on Nickelodeon. It's a cute show about a young girl who lives with her older brother and, along with her 2 best friends, produces her own Web show called iCarly. Vivian loves the show, and to be honest, I kinda like it too. Yesterday, as I was waiting for Vivian and her Grandma to return from a birthday party, I noticed in the Arts section of the paper that Miranda herself would be appearing at the aforementioned Best Buy signing copies of her new CD (she sings too!!!!). Well, I knew there would be a line. I anticipated that. I brought water bottles and Grandma. Water to hydrate, Grandma for smoke breaks. What I did not anticipate was the 1,497 other people that would be showing up to get an autograph as well. I also neglected to anticipate that only the first 500 would be guaranteed a chance to get anything. We were numbers 508, 509 and 510 in line. I could spend the better part of 6 or 7 hours typing all of the intricate, gory, exciting and terrifying details of the 5 hours we spent in the line but I will spare you. Believe me, I am sparing you. Suffice it to say, Vivian got to give Miranda the picture she drew for her and get her poster signed. I, myself, got her to sign 2 additional CD's and got a few pictures myself. I have a feeling I know what you people are thinking. You are wondering to yourselves why I am telling you this if I have no intention of bitching and moaning and including you in my private Hell. It's simple, really. IT IS NOT ABOUT ME!!!!!!!!! The amount of stress, struggle, anguish and annoyance I had to endure is inconsequential compared to the joy that Vivian got to experience. The fact that she gets to go to school in the Fall telling all that she met iCarly is more important than the bullshit Granny and I had to deal with. It is that simple. When you are a parent, there are times when you have to say, "FUCK IT!!!!!" Endure the pain. Suck it up. No matter what. It's your baby/babies. They may not appreciate it now. They may not appreciate it 10 years from now. They may never appreciate it. To Your Face. Inside those bodies of theirs though, they will know what you have done for them. Inside of those heads, they will always remember the sacrifices made, the things done, the lines waited in, the concerts/recitals/ball games gone to. If they don't or if they can't, there is nothing you can do about it but spend your life knowing you did all you could. Chances are, they will know. Hold out for it. The payoff is well worth it. At least, I hope it is.

C'mon.....Everyone is doing it.......Just try it..... What are you, a chicken?

2008-07-17T22:06:00.000-07:00

"Do unto others as you would have done unto you." - The Golden Rule....

Well, it's a phrase we are all familiar with. What you folks may not know is that this simple phrase is a basic teaching that permeates every single major religion in our world. Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism, Baha'i Faith, Taoism, and Satanism (yes, Satanism, albeit their version states "Do unto others as they have done unto you" but hey, it's a start....). All of these religions have their own version of this rule but the general idea is the same. Treat people how you want to be treated. Be nice to people if you want people to be nice to you. Do good things for folks if you want folks to do good things for you. Seems pretty simple, eh? Yeah.... Sure it does.... So why is it so hard for people to live by this? Including myself? It seems like such a simple thing. Such an easy way to live through each day. Bullshit!!!! It's not easy. Wanna know why (don't make me say it......you are gonna make me say it aren't you...)? Too bad!!!! I am telling you anyway!!!!!
The reasons we find it so hard to live by this simple parable are as easy to understand as the parable itself. There are a few reasons and I will spell them out clearly as though I am expecting a solution. I am not, though. Expecting a solution. That is not what I am about. Solutions. I am all about causing the problems. Bringing them forward and letting y'all mull them over in your little worlds. Hoping with all of my heart that you will find a solution for me. Okay, here we go..... First problem is that the boundaries are not clearly defined, therefore they are left up to interpretation. Dammit!!!! I have a huge ass pimple behind my ear and now I have one on my chin that hurts like a mother fu.....Uhhhh nevermind...... Interpretation. That is where I left off, that is where I shall return now. If you look at the basic rule, there are no real parameters. Do unto OTHERS. What others? All others? Just family others? Just religious others? Just racial others? If you think about, I mean REALLY think about it, you will see that this is the very root of why this is seemingly so difficult to live by! So many people twist and use this rule to their own advantage and agenda. The Nation Of Islam is supposed to be a pure form of Islam where this parable is taught and yet they hate Jews and call white folk the "white devil." Christians preach this all of the time and yet look at the persecution of other religions throughout the centuries. Not real familiar with any hatred from the Taoists, Baha'i people, or the Buddhists but I bet if I search long and hard enough, I'd find some.....heh heh.... I said long and hard....heh heh..... Anywho..... With this lack of definitive borders, extremists have taken this phrase and turned it into a mantra for isolationism. It's okay not to follow this rule if the other guy ain't one of us! That really sucks. I think. Another reason why this is so hard to follow is basic human nature. I am going to quote one of my favorite movies again to explain this. In "The Untouchables," Robert DeNiro, playing Al Capone, says, "...if you steal from me, I'm gonna say you stole, not have you arrested for spittin' on da sidewalk...." Uhhhhhh what? How does this lead to The Golden Rule and human nature? Simple really. If somebody treats us like crap, we want to call them out. We want to return the favor, or lack thereof. So often it happens, we start our day off at Starbucks, McDonald's or some Quickie Mart and the person who takes care of us just puts us off. They were rude, they screwed up our order, they looked at us funny. Whatever the reason, we are now grumpy. As a result, we take this grumpiness with us to our next destination. Be it work, school, or whatever it is you people do during the day. Whatever it is, you now take your bad attitude and pass it along... Etc.... etc.... and so on.... ad infinitum. Even if you started the day with the best of intentions, one pimply-faced, snot-nosed, mean-spirited Barista from Hell has now caused you to pay the shittiness forward. That really sucks, too. There are , I am quite sure, many other colorful reasons why it is so hard for us to abide by the Golden Rule, and with the cynical mood I am in, I would love to bring them up, but I have to be honest with y'all..... This pimple on my chin is really pissin' me off and I don't want to be angry towards anyone tomorrow so I must end now. I am going to make the world a better place by popping my little problem right now!!!!!!

What draws my admiration? What is that which gives me joy?

2008-07-05T17:10:00.000-07:00

"A man becomes preeminent, he's expected to have enthusiasms. Enthusiasms... What are mine? What draws my admiration? What is that which gives me joy? Baseball! A man stands alone at the plate. This is the time for what? For individual achievement. There he stands alone. But in the field, what? Part of a team. Teamwork.... Looks, throws, catches, hustles.Part of one big team. Bats himself the live-long day, Babe Ruth, Ty Cobb, and so on. If his team don't field... what is he? You follow me? No one. Sunny day, the stands are full of fans. What does he have to say? I'm goin' out there for myself. But... I get nowhere unless the team wins."

-Robert De Niro as Al Capone in "The Untouchables"

Okay, I will admit it. The above quote is a tad bit grim if you have ever seen the movie "The Untouchables." In the scene, Robert De Niro brilliantly plays Al Capone as he is addressing his top commanders in his organization. The above speech is given just before he takes a baseball bat to the back of the head of one of said commanders for screwing something up. It is a gruesome scene with a disgusting fade but the speech is GREAT!!!! I chose two of the lines from the speech for the title of this blog so that is why I felt it was almost mandatory to include the entire speech in deference to Mr. De Niro. Truth be told, the blog is actually going to be full of happiness and wonderful images of things that make me happy. I suppose since this blog will be about a few of my favorite things, I could have used a sweet and sappy quote from the Sound Of Music to lead things off..... Naaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!! Y'all know me better than that. It just wouldn't be like me. I may be a happier, stronger, and less cynical man than I was a year ago but I still have my rough edges. I can still be a bad ass and a rebel..... Well, kinda...... Anywho...... This blog is going to be about two things that make me smile. I mean ear to ear smiling. I mean smiling that just won't go away. Heart smile material. The first smile causer is the laughter of a child....Specifically my child..... The other smile causer is the love of a good woman... No specifics on this one because I said so.....
So most of you know I have a 7 year old daughter by the name of Vivian. If you are reading this on my blogspot website you have seen her picture when you first get here. She is the pretty little girl kissing me under the title "Me and My World." That is just what she is to me. My world. There are too many things about her that make her my world to go into detail on all of them. I can tell you this, though. Her smile and laughter are the 2 things that catapult her to the top of the very short list of favorite people in my life. To meet her is to know her smile is infectious. To play with her is to know her laughter can tame even the most ferocious heart. She is a sweet child. A passionate child. She is empathetic. Deeply spiritual. Loving. Caring. Smart and VERY observant. Things did not work out between her mother and I. She comprehends this and still maintains a level of adjustment that 2 teachers have commented on frequently. Her first 2 teachers in school have both made comments regarding her personality and how she is nothing like most of their students from "broken homes." She is amaZing. She blows me away. She makes me laugh. This is hard to do considering I am the funniest person I know. All of these attributes make her WHO she is but this blog is about WHAT she does to me. When she laughs, no matter what it is about, it puts a smile on my face that takes forever and a day to get rid of. Dammit, I just ended a sentence with a preposition..... Maybe no one noticed..... Keep going dummy.....You know what I am talking about, even if you don't have kids of your own!!! A child's laughter has incredible powers! It can cause a frown from even the grumpiest of Papa's to disappear in an instant. Vivian's laugh can do that to her Papa. It can make my worst day seem like a drop in a bucket. Maybe because I know all of the other good stuff about her. Maybe because it's a cute laugh. Maybe it's just 'cause I love her. Who really cares why. I just hope she never stops laughing.
The second thing that makes me perma-grin is the love of a woman. Hoo-ah!!!!! Love sweet love. A year and a half ago, I would have told you there is no such thing as love. If you pressed me hard enough to admit there was love in the world I would possibly relent to the idea of love but not that there was love out there for me. Not from a woman, at least. I would hope not from a man but definitely not from an evil, satanic, demonic, Hellish vixen who only wanted to, once again, suck the very life out of me and leave me for dead. No sir!!!! Did not want that. Not ever again. Guess what.....? I have changed my opinion of, not only women, but of love from women!!!!! I have discovered over the last year or so that it is possible to get love from a woman. I have discovered that said love is not too bad at all!!!! I have discovered that not all women are of the succubus species that most men have grown accustomed to. There are a few out there that really get it. They get men. They understand what we are and what we are about. They see past our crap and see through to the soft chewy centers and take it in all the way. They love us. This makes me smile. Every single day. It makes me smile ear to ear. It makes my heart smile. Wow, I did get pretty sappy there, didn't I? Glad I started off with De Palma. I would get labeled very unfairly, otherwise......

I know I've touched on this before but.....

2008-05-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

Okay, before the perverts who read my blog on a consistent basis ( you know who you are people.... C'mon.....) get too excited by the title, I had better explain. I mean "touched on" as in spoke or written about before. That's it. Nothing nefarious. Nothing sexual. No actual touching will be taking place during the construction of this blog..... Well..... Sort of...... Never mind.... I do not have to justify myself to anyone. Anyway, back to the title. I decided to pick up a topic that has been set aside, for the most part, for quite some time. It is the topic of missing someone or something. I mean the kind of missing that wrenches your gut. I mean the type of missing that keeps you awake at night. I mean the type of missing that makes it difficult for you to focus on any one specific task because you are too busy missing someone or something. Not the kind of missing that makes you say, "Gee, I haven't seen or heard from so and so for a while..." Not the kind of missing where you realize after several days that you forgot to do something or say something to someone or with something because you really didn't care. Not the kind of missing where you are in the middle of something else when you realize you MIGHT have forgotten someone or something. The kind of missing in the first three, aforementioned, scenarios is what this blog is about. Plain and simple. REAL missing. I want to pick apart the first three scenarios and relate them to my present frame of mind and then delve into how I deal with it. Cool? Too bad. I'm gonna anyway. Okay, first scenario. Gut wrenching. Not a very appealing description for a human emotion or reaction to a situation but really, what better way to describe how you feel when you are missing someone. Gut wrenching, I have always felt describes the feeling that someone is literally taking a wrench to your gut, getting a good hold and twisting. It is not a pleasant thought or feeling. It is not meant to be. It is about as close as we can come to describing it without going too far and mixing it with stomach turning, which is something completely different. We just miss them and for some reason there is a physical reaction to this missing. Our gut feels wrenched. Plain and simple. It's it and that's that. The next scenario is being kept awake at night. I do feel as though this is quite self explanatory. Every time you close your eyes to sleep, the image of the person or thing you are missing pops in, unannounced. This causes a conscious and, perhaps, unconscious stream of thoughts that illicit emotions and feelings that are far too powerful to overcome thereby keeping our brain active, thereby preventing us from falling asleep. Your brain is an amaZing tool that does so many things but it is a very fickle tool. It needs certain and specific conditions to shut down temporarily (sleep). Too many emotions and thoughts of a person that we are missing creates an unfavorable condition for our brain to sleep. Hence, no sleep when we miss someone at the level that I am referring to in this blog. The last scenario is missing someone or something so much you are unable to focus on any specific task....... What was I talking about......????? Awww shit..... See what I mean????? Well, I have no clue what I was doing. I need to try to get some sleep though..... Have not been able to lately......And my stomach feels like someone has a wrench clamped down on it.....

Playground Politics were always such a bitch....

2008-05-02T07:39:00.000-07:00

Remember in the '80's when the Psychologists' term of the month was "Get in touch with your inner child?" Many of us heard that and laughed. Some of heard that and started becoming concerned about having to register as a sex offender for the amount of times we touched our inner child..... Or maybe that was just me...... Anywho...... (awkward....) The phrase was meant to inspire adults to try to remember what it was like to be a kid. With the proliferation of the yuppie phenomenon and the economy on it's roller-coaster, people started working too much, stressing out all of the time, and just plain wearing themselves out. They went from a Dukes of Hazzard lunchbox to a 3 martini lunch at the little Italian joint downtown almost overnight. They woke up one day with all of this responsibility. No more all nighters with the Star Wars figures... It was stocks, bonds, mortgages, station wagons......and kids. They all of a sudden had to put away G.I. Joe or Barbie and start taking care of this little person on top of everything else. The kids wanted to be kids.... The parents wanted them to grow up. The Psychologists of the time said, "HEY!!!! Let them be kids!!!! Have you forgotten what it was like?" The adults didn't get it. They kept pushing and pushing. So the Psychologists had to come up with a way to grab the attention of said adults and make them WANT to get it. Hence... "Get in touch with your inner child." It had worked on the male population in the '70's. Remember? "Get in touch with your feminine side." The Psychologists figured either it could work on men AND women. Challenge them. Make them prove something. It's human nature to try and show the world that we are capable of doing something the world doesn't think we can do. So, the adults started getting in touch with their inner children. Movies were made about it. Remember Big? Tom Hanks breakout smash hit about the boy who wanted to be big, and then he was , and then he didn't want it anymore. How about Hook? (Yes, I know this one came out in 1991, but for all intents and purposes, it helps the story so back off!!!!!) The story of Peter Pan. Except Peter has grown up. He has forgotten how to "fly, fight, and crow..." It is not until he gets in touch with his Peter within....Hmmmmm.... That does not sound right..... Try something else....It is not until he sees his youth through the eyes of his children that he is able to live again. That's better.... Much better..... So, since the '80's, we have been trying our damnedest to keep this one alive. Whenever we find ourselves stressed, overworked or just plain bummed out, we call up that inner child and ask if they want to play. We bungee jump. We skydive. We dress up at Halloween. We host themed dinner parties that let us just have fun. We take our own kids to concerts and jump and dance and scream as loud as they do. We take them to sporting events and do all of the things we wanted to do as kids but weren't allowed to, like eat polish sausages, cotton candy and peanuts....Then we throw the shells on the ground and order one of those big cookies from the guy walking up and down the aisle just because..... Overall, I think we have done a pretty good job as a society at living up to and proving that we can do this. Sadly, though, there is a large segment of the population that has really fucked this endearing behavior up. There are those who have not only gotten in touch with their inner child, they also gave him a snuggie. They not only reverted back to their childhood ways in their extra-curricular activities, they also brought their child-like behavior into the boardroom. Into the bedroom. For whatever reason, they seem to believe that the playground politics work in everyday life. The philosophies of bullying, cliques, revenge, toy envy, and control have not only crept back into their lives, they have consumed these folks. These sad souls walk around everyday picking on the little guy so they can feel better about themselves. These pathetic people judge others solely by who they hang with as opposed to who they are as a person. These lonesome losers feel that every injustice deserves another injustice in return. These desperate dorks want what the neighbor has so bad that they are willing to destroy the neighbors posession just to make it all even steven again. These confused clowns think that being King Of The Hill gives them the right to push everyone around, even when they are not on the hill anymore. It's sad. It truly is. They have taken a simple, beautiful concept and turned it into something so painful, so hurtful, so goddamn worthless. That is what these people are. Worthless. I know you all know someone like this. You all know a bully. A control freak. An asshole. They are everywhere. They can be in our friendship circles. In our places of employ. In our homes. We may be acquainted with them. Assigned to work with them. Married to them. No matter how it is we come to know these freaks of nature, our number one goal now, and always should, be to avoid them. Get them out of our lives. The can do no good for us. They thrive on our suffering. They live to see our pain. Once we show them no pain, once we stop enduring the suffering and walk away, they lose their power. Just like the bully. Underneath all of the bravado and bullshit is a scared inner child that just wanted to play. Yeah? Well let them go play with themselves. I don't need 'em.

18 floors of heaven.....

2008-04-12T11:24:00.000-07:00

Taking a little departure from my usual blog and letting someone else's words do all of the talking for me....(as my fingers on my right hand were burned quite badly in an industrial accident last night that caused me to turn into a maniacal white-faced evil-doer with a penchant for violence and an obsession with the phrase "Ever danced with the Devil in the pale moonlight? I always ask that of all my prey. I just like the sound of it...") I digress. I just wanted to share the lyrics to a song by a band that I only recently discovered. The band is Blue October and the song is 18th Floor Balcony. It amazed me that the band known for Hate Me could write such an amazing ballad that speaks to me on sooooo many levels. It's on my playlist on this page. Listen to it! LISTEN TO IT DAMMIT!!!!!! Good stuff, Maynard!! Love to you all!!!

18th Floor Balcony
by Blue October

I Close My Eyes
And I Smile
Knowing That Everything Is Alright
To The Core
So Close That Door
Is This Happening?
My Breath Is On Your Hair
I'm Unaware
That You Opened The Blinds And Let The City In
God, You Held My Hand
And We Stand
Just Taking In Everything.
And I Knew It From The Start
So My Arms Are Open Wide
Your Head Is On My Stomach
And We're Trying So Hard Not To Fall Asleep
Here We Are
On This 18th Floor Balcony.
We're Both Flying Away.

So We Talked About Mom's And Dad's
About Family Pasts
Just Getting To Know Where We Came From
Our Hearts Were On Display
For All To See
I Can't Believe This Is Happening To Me
And I Raised My Hand As If To Show You That I Was Yours
That I Was So Yours For The Taking
I'm So Yours For The Taking
That's When I Felt The Wind Pick Up
I Grabbed The Rail While Choking Up
These Words To Say And Then You Kissed Me...
I Knew It From The Start
So My Arms Are Open Wide
Your Head Is On My Stomach
And We're Trying So Hard Not To Fall Asleep
Here We Are
On This 18th Floor Balcony...

We're Both Flying Away.

And I'll Try To Sleep
To Keep You In My Dreams
'til I Can Bring You Home With Me
I'll Try To Sleep
And When I Do I'll Keep You In My... Dreams

I Knew It From The Start
So My Arms Are Open Wide
Your Head Is On My Stomach
And We're Trying So Hard Not To Fall Asleep
So Here We Are
On This 18th Floor Balcony
I Knew It From The Start
My Arms Are Open Wide
Your Head Is On My Stomach
No, We're Not Going To Sleep
Here We Are
On This 18th Floor Balcony... We're Both..Flying Away

Confusion is nothing new.....

2008-03-17T20:47:00.000-07:00

"Do you ever think of yourself as actually dead lying in a box with a lid on it? Nor do I really. It's silly to be depressed by it. I mean, one thinks of it like being alive in a box, and one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead... which should make all the difference... shouldn't it? I mean, you'd never know you were in a box, would you? It would be just like you were asleep in a box. Not that I'd like to sleep in a box, mind you, not without any air, you'd wake up dead for a start, and then where would you be? In a box. That's the bit I don't like frankly. That's why don't think of it. Because you'd be helpless! Stuffed in a box like that, I mean, you'd be in there forever. Even taking into account the fact that you're dead, it isn't a pleasant thought. Especially if you're dead really... ask yourself, if I asked you straight off... I'm going to stuff you in this box now, would you rather be alive or dead. Naturally, you prefer to be alive. Life in a box is better than no life at all. I expect. You'd have a chance at least. You could lie there thinking well, at least I'm not dead! In a minute somebody is going to bang on the lid and tell me to come out. Hey, you! What's yer name!Come out of there!"

Oh man.... I love this quote. Wish I could take credit for it. Can't though. Have to give credit where credit is due. The monologue on death and dying above was written by Tom Stoppard. An extremely talented playwright and screenwriter. The quote itself is from his brilliant play entitled, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Truly, in my opinion, one of the most amazing modern plays written. Original, hilarious, innovative and surreal this play follows two characters from Shakespeare's classic tragedy Hamlet as they are summoned by the king to find out what is wrong with Hamlet. The men named in the title are actual characters from the original Hamlet albeit very small and rather insignificant but Tom Stoppard decided to make something of them. There was a movie made starring Gary Oldman and Tim Roth as the title characters. Great movie! Very hard to find. If you come across it, watch it. I know what you are saying right.... "Okay, fat man (although you would be incorrect in giving me that moniker as I am rapidly losing weight so perhaps "fluffy man" would be more appropriate... just a suggestion...), this is a nice review and advertisement for a 40 year old play and a 17 year old movie that we may never see but what does is have to do with anything? You usually write insightful, flowing, moving blogs that inspire, touch and motivate us to a goal... This is just informative.... What gives?" I know that is what at least 60-70% of you were thinking... C'mon.... Admit it.... I will tell you what it's about. I always do, don't I? Go back up and re-read the quote. I have done it in color, mimicking the style of my dear friend Connie and her penchant for having colorful blogs with quotes clearly separated by striking colors, so that you can easily focus on reading just the quote. Done it? Read the quote again? Okay, now, who does that sound like? Think hard. Of all of the people you may know, who among them would come up with something like this? If you guessed me, you are just as brilliant as I am. Every time I have heard, read or thought about this quote, I have said to myself, "This sounds like me... It sounds like my brain.... Confused, concerned, logical with a great deal of illogical sprinkled throughout..." This quote is the sum total of how my mind operates on a daily basis. Point/Counterpoint. Sensible/Non-Sensible. Real/Surreal. These attributes found in all streams of consciousness. Whether I am pondering my breakfast choice or the meaning of life. I am a walking accident when it comes to thought. I feel as though I should be walking around with a sign on my chest that reads.."Please Do Not Feed The Bear... (...anything that might make him think) At least with a sign like this, I can avoid the headaches that are not uncommon on any given day due to the inconsiderate moron who asks me what I think about the Presidential elections. Still confused as to what in the Hell I am talking about? Don't hurt yourself. So am I.

Shut Up, Head!!! My heart has something to say....

2008-03-12T23:54:00.000-07:00

This blog is one of the thousands that I have running through my head at any given time. Most of them are fragmented thoughts that, were I to print them, may just get me arrested. Some of them are floating around in wiener world just waiting for that right thought to make them whole and printable. Then there are those like today's that are there. Up front. Whole and complete. Merely waiting for the right moment in time to emerge. This topic has been ready for a while. I have been quite busy lately and unable to sit long enough to type it so here it goes...

It is often said that we humans "think" with several parts of our body depending on the situation. We all know that our parts can't REALLY think for us but I am quite sure you know what I mean. You have been walking all day and you are tired. Someone says to you, "Wanna go further?" and your reply is , " I want to but my feet don't think I should..." You have just finished a big meal at your favorite restaurant. You are stuffed. The server comes by and says, " Dessert?" to which you might reply, "No thanks. My tummy doesn't think that would be a good idea." You are sitting out in front of your parent's house late one night with the girl/guy of your dreams and the conversation goes from mild to wild and the next thing you know hands are wandering and she whispers, "Don't you want me?" at which time you say three things "One certain part of me, which I will not mention, says yes, my head (brain, you perverts) says an emphatic no, and my heart says wait. I am going with my heart." All of these situations may seem quite familiar to many of you and you may find yourselves saying that you know exactly what I mean. Do you? Do you really? I hope so because I really want you to agree with what I am about to say. Out of all the responses above, the only one that a body part made that I feel is the right one, is the one made by the heart. Yep. The heart. The one body part that is so often accused of being irrational. Making decisions based solely on emotion. It's the body part that has been hailed as the strongest muscle in the body yet it so easily broken. It can beat loud and proud in a person one day.... and then just quit the next. Even with all of these contradictions and opinions, I have found in my life that when I have let my heart be the deciding vote, in the long run, I have been much happier. Let's look at the scenarios.... Walking all day and you need to go further..... If you let your feet decide, then you will stop. What if you are only at mile 55 of a 60 mile walk that you committed to and raised money for and are doing for the loved ones in your life that have or may someday suffer from Breast Cancer? How would you feel if you stopped there? Your heart tells you to keep going. So you do. You are at the restaurant and you are faced with a decision of whether or not to indulge.... Let's just say that for this one, I just have to think about the old saying "Life's short, eat dessert first." I know it's not good for you. I know it may add a pound or two. I also know I never want to regret anything. I do not want to be on my death bed saying...."I shoulda had the apple pie..." Some of you may say I am justifying my poor eating habits. I'll have you know, I have dropped 20+ lbs recently and have never felt better... and I still have the apple pie now and again... guilt free... regret free... I listened to my heart... Dammit! The last scenario is the most profound because it involves so many body parts. When things escalate to a level with members of the opposite sex where some sort of racy involvement seems inevitable, there are many factors that must be considered. These factors are often considered by three very (VERY) powerful body parts. The first being the naughty bits... At this point, these bad boys/girls are considering these factors with the reckless abandon of a 5 year old at Chuck E Cheese. Oh man.... These parts have made their mind up as to what needs to happen before she/he gets the whole question out. How much rational thinking can one do in that much time. The second part is the brain. Often regarded as the strongest and most rational of the body parts. It is where all of the grey matter is. All of the nerves, all of the feelings, all of the senses report to the brain. Does this make it the best decision maker? Just because it's the boss? Let's ask the poor boys forced into becoming SS soldiers in WWII if they think the boss is always the best way to go. Let's ask the men, women and children of Jonestown who gave their lives to a leader who said he knew what was best for them as he fed them cyanide laced Kool-Aid and watched them die. Think they believe now that just because you are "the boss" that you know what is best. I know, these seem extreme. They are. They prove the point though. The brain is just as fallible as the rest of the body. Prone to persuasion. Easily manipulated. I truly believe that the heart is the only one in the last scenario that was thinking clearly. It always does. Think about it. Go through all of the big decisions in your mind that have taken place through the years. How many times that you TRULY LISTENED to your heart, did it ever steer you wrong. I know for a fact in the above scenario, when faced by this very writer, the heart was soooooo very right. By going with the heart that night, all that time ago, I was able to see the possibilities that are still there. Had I listened to either of the other parts, or any other part for that matter, I may not be as happy as I am this very day. Things WOULD be different. I believe this with all of my heart...

I know what it's like to soar like the eagles... (Just a quick note)

2008-02-18T12:08:00.000-08:00

I have always admired birds of prey. In fact, if I were to list my dream jobs, the order would be something like this...

1) Major League Baseball Umpire- Thank you Jim Evans and your Southwest Classic Umpire School (and Ted Barrett, current Major League Umpire) for getting me as close as my 34 year old body would have ever gotten to being one. It was amazing!!!!

2) Wildlife Specialist with an emphasis in Orithology. I know just about as much as anyone should care to know about the Birds of Prey native to Arizona. They fascinate me. Always have, always will.

3) Part owner and GM of my own Irish Pub/restaurant. This one is the most attainable.... Well, duh!!!!!

So, you can see, my fascination with Birds of Prey runs pretty deep. I will have to say at this point that my favorite Bird of Prey is the Eagle. More specifically, the Bald Eagle. No, not because we have the Bald thing in common. It has more to do with the majestic qualities they possess. There was one instance where I was able to witness thier majestic beauty in all of it's glory. It was very early one summer morning and I had gone to the Salt/Verde River convergance for some alone time and fishing. I was (as usual) catching nothing when a shadow crossed my line of sight. I knew instantly what it was. A Bald Eagle. Soaring. I was so envious. I wanted to know how that felt. How it felt to be above the world. Looking down. Totally free. Totally unrestrained by any and all of the trappings the earth has to offer. Circling above the stress, the fear, the pain. Looking down on it with a grin knowing that for the time being, it had no control. Only the sky, the wind currents and my desire to focus on. Well, I gotta tell ya... I now know. I know what that feeling is like. Truly amazing. Words cannot truly give life to the depths of happiness I have experienced during my soaring. I have soared with the eagles above a Gold Canyon and I never want to land.

I know why Al Capone chose the day for a massacre...

2008-02-10T23:13:00.000-08:00

So, I made a promise to myself this year. Wanna know what is was? Of course you do. I promised myself that this year, I was not going to face Valentine's Day with my usual cynicism and disdain. I was not going to decry the superficial and commercial nature of a "holiday" that was, more or less, created for the greeting card industry.... Oh..... Dammit..... That was cynical, huh?..... Okay, from this point on, no more... I was not going to wallow in self-pity because I, once again, was going to spend this holiday alone... working... without anyone to "be" with. That's not cynical. Them's just the facts. I will not be celebrating with someone. Physically. No, I don't mean sex, you perverts (although it is also true that I will not be playing any "under the sheet games" this year on Valentine's Day). What I mean by "physically," is that I got to thinking. Yes, I have a headache as a result but listen.... Do we really need to have our "Valentines" with us in order for the holiday to be enjoyable? My answer to this is a resounding, "No!" How do I figure? It has to be possible. That's how I figure. It's the only way that I will be able to make it through another one. It's the only way for me to stave off the depression and anger that I have experienced during that day for the past several years. For those of you doing the math, I do mean several years and that is more than the 5 you may be thinking... Still not following? Simply put, I cannot remember the last good Valentine's Day that I had. It has been MANY years. So, in order for this one to be different, I have to trust that the conventional rules of celebrating the day are open for interpretation. Okay, here goes my interpretation. My keys to a good Valentine's Day. Feel free to copy and paste these interpretations for your own benefit... First of all, we must define our "Valentine." Conventional celebratory rules will have you believe that this person must be our spouse, fiancee', girlfriend/boyfriend, lover, mate, bestest buddy (FWB), or our favorite booty call. These are all true for most. For some, like myself, these are not present in our lives. Does this mean we are void of love? Does this imply that we cannot have a "Valentine" if we have none of the aforementioned persons in our life? Conventional celebrations will say that. My interpretation? If you have someone in your heart that you would like to be one of these things, but for whatever reason... i.e. timing, distance, morality, restraining order... they can't be, I say that they qualify. I think that if your heart is filled with "true love" for someone that is not one of the above, that person can and should be your "Valentine." Second of all, we must decide what being with them means. Do they have to be right next to you? Must you spend the whole day together? Is dinner a foregone conclusion? Conventional celebrating: Yes Bradley's interpretation: Hell no! If your "Valentine" as defined by me cannot be near you for some reason... i.e. timing.... well, you know... then you should be able to celebrate with them in absentia. The mind is a powerful tool. Imagination can create wonderful scenarios. Don't go too far, though. Especially if restraining order is one of the reasons that you are going by my interpretaion. The last thing I think needs some interpretation is the expectation factor. What do I get my "Valentine?" Candy? Flowers? Lingere'? I am sure you know, by now, that Conventional celebrating agrees with all of the above and then some. My interpretation? How about telling your "Valentine" how much they have filled your heart with joy? Letting them know through well spoken words or well written sentences that without them, you would not know how the sun would rise everyday for you. If they were not in your heart, your would have no need for a heart at all. They have improved your life to the point that you can see no more room for improvement (except maybe get in better shape, quit smoking, and lower your blood pressure). These things would mean so much more than a stuffed animal or a bouquet of roses. At least, I like to think so. There you have it. My interpretation of Valentine's Day. I hope I can be strong and follow my own advice.... I don't hope I can, I know I can. I have to....

Did you miss me? I'm baaaaaaaack.....

2008-01-15T07:51:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I last wrote. I feel as though I am slacking. Losing focus. Letting down my muse. I mean, here my muse has done so much to make me the writer that I have become, and there I am.... Not writing. Now, admittedly, the genius that is me cannot just spew forth the brilliance that is my writing at the drop of a hat. More often than not, inspiration is needed. There must be a catalyst. Am I trying to sit here and tell you people that nothing has inspired me of late? Have things been so uninteresting in my life that I have been driven to total silence? Truth be told.... No. Things have actually been quite interesting. A great deal of roller coaster occurrences. What are "roller coaster occurrences?" These are things that happen that mimic the fast-paced, up and down and side to side motion of a roller coaster. Sometimes you are laughing and enjoying yourself. Sometimes you are screaming at the top of your lungs and trying to remember where you keep the change of clothes because you just pissed yourself. Sometimes you are stoic and numb knowing what is just about to happen. All of these things happen during "roller coaster occurrences." Separate, they are enough to drive a sane person to lose their mind. Somehow, all together, they bring about a certain euphoria and level of peace that one cannot find anywhere else. At least, for most people. For myself, separate or together, I hate that shit. Never been a fan of roller coasters. This is not to say that I am your typical milquetoast/vanilla/boring old fat guy. I have my adventurous side. I can be dangerous. How many of you have captured a wild rattlesnake with your bare hands? Ever grabbed a Desert Hairy Scorpion by the tail to remove it from an area occupied by friends and family? I am going to guess that none of or very few of you have. I am not saying I am into boring and plain. I just hate roller coasters. All of them. When I first went on Space Mountain, I spent the entire time visualizing my head being removed by one of the low beams that I was flying past at 5000 mph. I was a hoot at Cedar Point. Oh, I went on damn near every freaking roller coaster that place offers simply because I was told that I was too chicken to do so. I was not too chicken. I went on them. Hated every Goddamn minute of it, though. I think the fascination with the death machines is overrated. Same way I feel that life's little ups and downs are overrated. The ups can be amazing. I have been riding a certain high, for instance, since Christmas time. One area of my life has proven to be very rewarding. Other parts, however, have been one disappointment after the other. I am quite tired of this. Do I want everything to go my way all of the time? Is that how I think life needs to, should and must be? Well, uhhhh, yeah!!!! Of Course!!!! What the Hell is wrong with you???

One more quick thought....

2008-01-03T11:46:00.000-08:00

After finishing the last blog I just wrote, I was sitting on the back patio with a Pall Mall in one hand and my head in the other when a quote popped into my head. A quote that I have said to many who know me. Actually, if you have met and talked to me at all, I have probably said this one to you and for someone I know, it has never been more apropos than right at this very moment. I hope they get a chance to stop by and read it and as for the rest of you, keep it in your hearts as well for the times that it may just be the one thought that saves your life. Here it goes...

" I know what Burt is going through right now. It's the loneliest feeling in the world. It's like walking down a dark, empty street with only the sound of your footsteps. And all you have to do is knock on any door and say "If you let me in, I'll live the way YOU want me to live and I'll think the way YOU want me to think," and all of the blinds will go up. And all of the doors will be open. And you'll never be lonely, ever again. " -Henry Drummond (Spencer Tracy), Inherit the Wind

Words to live by, my dear friends. Words to live by. I love you all, so very much. Thank you for enriching my life in ways that I will never be able to repay you for. I hope these words will find a place in your heart. A place as important as the one they are kept in, in my heart.

I am a damn good writer... Guess that makes me a lover, not a fighter...

2008-01-03T10:41:00.000-08:00

I find myself reading my own writing from time to time. When the e-mails have been checked and replied to, all MySpace silliness dispensed with, and all blogs written by others read, I like to go to my blogs for a good laugh or two. Maybe even for a cry. Many times for a cry. There are a few things that I have written that really stand out to me. A few of my ramblings that have truly impacted who I am and who I have become over the last 7 or 8 months. I have done a great deal of growing during this time and have discovered a great many things about myself that I thought were long gone. There are some things I thought had died inside of me that I have come to learn were merely comatose, waiting for the right moment to emerge. All of this aside, the one thing that has struck the biggest cord in me is my writing. Until Tuesday, June 26th, 2007 at 12:09am, I had not done a blog. I had never poured my feelings out and put them somewhere for the world to see. That first time was because I was feeling so very much emotion about a situation that I was experiencing I felt I had no choice. I had to get it out, one way or another. I found it therapeutic. I found it exciting. I started to write more. Familiar with the snowball effect? Something just keeps getting bigger and bigger as it rolls on and on... That is a fair description of what this forum has become for me. My stories range from the funny to the sad, short to the long, serious to the hilarious. Everything in between. I am so proud of some of them. Kind of ashamed of others. All of them have meaning. Some a lot more than others. They have all been interwoven by one common thread though. One thing has made them all come to fruition. What has done this? What has inspired all of you to laugh, cry, gag, and enjoy right along side of me? My Muse. I found my Muse that fateful night in June. What is my Muse? What is a Muse? Well, without going into a great deal of historical detail regarding the Greek legend of the Muse, suffice it to say that one's Muse is one's inspiration to create. Your muse may come in many forms. Human form. Animal form. Inanimate objects. Whatever. Doesn't matter. My Muse came to me and that was it. I was hooked. I have been unable to shake the need to write since then. I am glad I have not. Going back and reading, I have found so many treasures! So many wonderful words! "An Open Letter To The One Who Has My Heart" was truly a masterpiece, if I do say so myself. Raw and real. True feelings. Real emotion. Then there was "I knew it, dammit.... I knew it.... Oh.... I'm over it." The blog that has inspired a novel. Norman. Remember him? Still working on him. Not as easy as I thought it would be but he is there. Again, inspired by my Muse and written from the heart about having too many good days in a row. I will not soon forget the one entitled "Ooo...Ow...Ouch... I hate when I do that." This gem was written during a VERY difficult time for me and yet somehow, I managed to find some humor and put it into my writing. I also inspired one of the most incredible responses to any of the things I have ever written. None of you got to see the response as it was not public but I am compelled to share it with you now. The blog was based on an actual event. The person involved read what I wrote. The next day I got an e-mail with a picture in it and a few words. The picture was of this person's hand and a remote control. The words were simple but powerful. "We are ready if you are." Yeah, crying right now. Don't know what the Hell I am talking about? Go back and read it. You'll get it. Then I come across "Some Enchanted Evening..." Again, inspired by an actual event, I am whisked away when reading this one. Placed right in the very moment the connection that the blog refers to was made. It was so powerful. I recently got word that one reader felt the same way in a recent encounter they had. It was nice to hear. Then I come to my most recent writing. The one about "Goodbye." Such a sad word that came from such good intentions. It is a shortened and bastardized version of "God Be With You..." Yeah, I see how they got goodbye from that.... Anyway, as I re-read the "Goodbye" blog, I realized how much I hate goodbye. I am not talking about mild irritation. I mean hate. It is what has me crying right now. It is what is turning my stomach as I write. It is why I am struggling right now to finish this blog. Damn, I am a good writer. I even mess myself up with what I write...

Is there any such thing as a "good" goodbye?

2007-12-31T23:07:00.000-08:00

As I sit in front of my computer shortly after midnight on this the first day of 2008 it dawn's on me that this is not only a day to welcome a New Year, it is also a time to say goodbye to an Old Year... All of the television networks have some sort of countdown to help us say goodbye to the year, i.e. The Year's Best Sports Moments, This Year in Weather, Train wrecks of the Year, The Year of the Amazing Orgasm Review... okay, okay... I made the last one up... Although, if I was the Head of Programming for any major network or the Playboy Channel that would be one of the countdowns. Trust me. These countdowns are intended to fill us with laughter and joy and fond memories of the year that has gone by. They are meant to instill us with warm fuzzies at a time that, really, can be quite difficult depending on the year we had. I look at it differently. I have a different perspective. Are you surprised? I didn't think so. You know that I have to skew just about everything. I get off on it. Here it goes.... The countdowns are shown every year at this time to deflect us from realizing that we are saying "Goodbye." We are letting go of the year that was, and let's face it people, "Goodbye" is never a good thing. Before you people say that never is a poor choice in this case I would like to ask that you shut the Hell up until my point is made. Ooooo... that was harsh... Well, shoot, y'all try to get ahead of me too much. Moving on... Look deep and hard into your past. By past I mean as recently as yesterday afternoon and as far back as you can clearly remember. Think about as many goodbyes as you can think of. Any of them good? Now I know that some are thinking, "Well, there were some people and places and situations that I was glad to say goodbye to..." I understand that. I do. Think about it, though. If you were glad to say goodbye, then something was very wrong, ergo, no such thing as a "good" goodbye. May I move on please? I can think of several goodbyes in my life that I can honestly say have affected me a great deal. Some of them because of the permanence in the goodbye. Some because of the incertitude that accompanies the goodbye. Some just because they did not go the way that you wanted them to (to which I would ask, "Do they ever?"). I have had all three of these types of goodbyes throughout my 34 years. I can recall a difficult one that fell into the permanence category. It was with the cat that adopted my family when I was around 10. He was an outside cat that moved to our backyard when his owners (our neighbors) moved to Utah. They asked if we could take care of him and before they were gone, he was in our yard looking for food and love. Both of which were provided and subsequently, the love was returned. He was my rock during those tough, awkward, early teens years. I would retreat to the backyard, full of teenage angst and distraught by the treatment I had received from some girl in Jr High and this cat would come from ANYWHERE in the neighborhood. He was tuned into my brooding. He would arrive just as I flopped down into the lounge chair in disgust. He would jump on my lap and look at me as if to commiserate. It was great. Well, he lived by the sword as an outdoor cat. As a result he was to die by the sword. An abscess that was the result of a fight ended up getting infected rather quickly and rather than allowing him to suffer, the Vet suggested that we put him down. I remember being left with him in the room for a moment and this big, strong, tough teenager balled his eyes out saying goodbye to his com padre. It sucked. Hard core. The incertitude types of goodbyes are usually applied to break-ups. You never know how it will end, really. It is such a pain in the ass. The ones that didn't go the way you wanted them to? Too numerous to count, right? How many times did you prepare yourself for a certain goodbye (grandma, cousins, best friend from the old neighborhood) only to have it take too long, end too quickly or just not go well at all? A lot, huh? Don't tell me no! If you are, you are just being a pain. You know it. Here is the question of the day. Ever had a goodbye that encompassed all three of the above? One that was filled with incertitude, jam- packed with a perceived or possible permanence, and that just wasn't what you wanted it to be? The Tri-Fecta of the Shitty Goodbyes. Often, with these types of goodbyes, there is a great deal of love and well-intentioned emotion. You want to make the goodbye as easy as possible. You want it to be the one that is going to be good. It becomes clear almost the moment you see the person that it will not be good. It is almost tangible. The tension. The sadness. The reality. It hits you like a ton of bricks. Even though you are here in front of me right now, you are here to say "Goodbye." Goodbye is never good. Remember I said that earlier? A couple of times? So, you smile. You make small talk, you hug, maybe kiss, maybe gently yet tentatively hold hands... Only prolonging the inevitable. Hold back the tears. Don't let them know how you are dying inside. Remember, this was supposed to be good. It is a given that you would much prefer to have seen them before they were gone. You needed that "one last time." A given but not necessarily the best choice considering how you feel as you walk away.... Unable to look back for fear of breaking down completely... It was a good thing... Just not a"good" goodbye... Remember, none of them are.

Just a quick note....

2007-12-24T08:27:00.000-08:00

This is a copy of the letter I just wrote to a local newspaper columnist regarding some advice I had taken from him. I thought that on this day before Christmas, it might be a bit of an inspiration for some. Thank you for reading!!!

Dear Clay,

I am an avid reader of your column. I admire your work a great deal and being the trivia/ "useless information" buff that I am, I find myself using your column as a source of wisdom(?). With this is in mind, I must also mention that I have recently used your column as a source of advice. I took my 6 year old shopping this last week. It was the morning your column mentioned that we should remember how difficult this time of year is for cashiers and retail employees in general. Standing in line at one of the Mega Stores, I noticed how flustered and haggard the retirement aged cashier was. It had been a long day and the goobers in front of me were not making things any easier. Then once my daughter and I reached the front of the line, one of the items I had for purchase would not scan so, frustrated, she had to go through the steps of entering the item in manually. As she was doing this I instructed my 6 year old to get me a bag of M & M's. She brought the M & M's with a great deal of excitement (thinking they were hers) and I handed them to the cashier. The cashier rang them and started to hand them to my sweet patootie and I stopped her. I said, "No, those are for you." She looked at me confused for a moment. My daughter had the same strange look on her face. I calmly mentioned that her day was more difficult than ours and that she could probably use them more. She was speechless and bleary eyed. The woman behind me just thought that was the neatest thing she had ever seen in all of her 70 years. My daughter informed the cashier, after figuring out what Daddy was doing, that "That's called giving. It's what you do at Christmas." Thank you Clay. Thank you for teaching me a new way to enjoy this time of year. Thank you for showing me a new way to teach my daughter about this time of year. Thank you for doing what you do. You have helped this part-time Grinch expand his tiny heart 3 sizes bigger.

Sincerely,

Bradley Jones

I am due for another music blog, how about y'all?

2007-12-17T22:08:00.000-08:00

Here he goes again. It seems like every time the fat guy adds some new songs to his playlist we gotta listen to him ramble endlessly about the power of music, or adding a soundtrack to our lives, blah, blah, blah.... Yeah, well, ya know what???!!!! Bite me. This one, like ALL of the other blogs about music is very near and dear to me for a few reasons. First, because it is about music. Music being a major influence and force in my life. Second, because of the songs that I did add to my list tonight and why I added them. Finally, this blog is near and dear because I am going to talk about fishing poles, people, and Sha-Na-Na. What? Just relax, it will all tie together. Bear with me. Okay, music. Yes it's a driving force in my life etc.. etc.... Yes, you all know how important it is to me. Especially at this time of year. Many of you who know me, know that this time of year has always been a rough time for me. Not due to any tragedy or any Santa related creepiness..... Just have always been kind of a Grinch.... Until Vivian came along. Having kids will change your view of many things. Including those things you thought you would NEVER change your mind about. Like Christmas. Don't get me wrong. I have not been transformed into a fan of the times. Just softened up a bit. Around her. Still pretty much a Grinch whenever I get the chance. Especially when it comes to Christmas songs. Sure, I remember singing all the old versions of the songs growing up. Jimmy Boyd's version of "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Gene Autry belting out "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Brenda Lee telling us about "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree." I remember singing along with all of 'em. As I got older, though, they started to lose their charm. Over and over again. It was awful. They just kept playing them. On TV. On the radio. In the stores. At the restaurants. I got to the point where I was not only a Grinch because of the time of year but also because of the music of the time of the year. That was until I heard two different songs that forever warped me into a blubbering idiot whenever I heard them. Now, as you know, with me, I am not afraid to admit that a great deal of music stirs strong emotions in me. What you didn't know is that "The Little Drummer Boy" by Jars of Clay and "Do They Know It's Christmas" By Band-Aid and/or the Barenaked Ladies (either version is amazing) will reduce this Agnostic Christmas hater into a pile of teary blubber. Yep. A song about the birth of Jesus Christ and a song about a bunch of starving kids in Africa touch my soul in ways reserved only for Cyndi Lauper, Ben E. King, and the Monkees. Strange, huh? I think so. I have no idea why. I have heard many versions of "The Little Drummer Boy" and have enjoyed a few of them at one time or another. None of them do to me what the aforementioned version does. Cannot, will not, and don't want to try and explain. Deal with it. As far as the starving African kids? Don't know why that one does it either. It may be because of the one line sung by Bono in the original version... "...well tonight, Thank God it's them, instead of you..." There is such venom behind his voice that I think he put there on purpose. It worked on me. Got me thinking. Realizing no matter how rough things are on me this time of year, someone is suffering even more. Some don't even know what Christmas is or what it is all about. Not the religious aspect, the season in general. The giving. The receiving. The love. The family. The spirit. The stories. The laughter. The tears. The memories. All of these things make this time of year what it is. These two songs help me remember this. What are your songs? Finally... Fishing poles, people and Sha-Na-Na. There was quite a bit of controversy on my last blog when it posted on myspace. Seems like I led everyone to believe that there was some woman out there that I wanted real bad but couldn't, shouldn't and have not had. Well, I will stand here now and say that y'all are only partly right. Which part is right? I will never, EVER tell. Especially since y'all got so worked up. I have said that it could have been a fishing pole that I was talking about. It may have been a Light-Up Nativity Scene using the original cast of Sha-Na-Na (featuring Bowzer as the Christ Child). I am not telling if it was one of these things or a person. What I am going to say is relax.... Try not to think too hard about it.... It's Christmas time!

Oh yeahhh!!!! I'm gettin' all biblical on yer ass!!!!!

2007-12-16T20:55:00.000-08:00

Well, I started another blog a few days ago and intend to finish it but I have another issue I would like to discuss at the present time. It is not necessarily a pressing issue or one that demands immediate attention. It's an issue that has been hanging around me for some time now and I thought I would put it out there for you folks to mull over. Perhaps after reading, some of you may even commiserate. If you are not able to determine from the title that this will be a biblically themed blog, please stop reading and go lie down. Biblically themed, eh? What particular Bible story would the Agnostic like to speak about? What part of a book that I find it so difficult to believe would pique my interest enough to write about? Adam and Eve. More specifically, the forbidden fruit. Yes, that's right. I am going to go there people. I have to. I have avoided this subject like the plague and have spent a great deal of time and effort stepping around it but I have to just step right in it. Cannot avoid it any more. What do I mean by the forbidden fruit? That which we want, but can't have. It is that simple. The forbidden fruit (for you heathens) was a reference in the Bible to fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. God told Adam and Eve (the first humans according to the Bible. Again, for the heathens) not to eat fruit from the Tree and, of course, they did. Got themselves thrown right out of the Garden, they did. So throughout history, whenever someone has wanted something that they just cannot have, it has been referred to as wanting some forbidden fruit. So, tell me people, am I the only one? Am I the only fool in this world who has experienced this to the extreme that I find myself experiencing this now? Wait a minute.... Back up, fat man..... Did you say "experiencing this NOW?" What is it you want that you cannot have? What is it that has inspired you to write this amazing blog about Adam and Eve and fruit etc.....? Is there something (or someone) that you long for? Are you pining for something (or someone) that you just cannot have? Do you find yourself yearning for something (or someone) that is not yours? Yeah, like I am telling y'all. You people should know me better than that by now. I will just say that it is possible that there is something (or someone) I would really like to have and it just does not seem like I can or will so I want to know that I am suffering with others. Ever heard the saying "Misery Loves Company?" I need to know that there are those of you in my vast reader audience that know what I am talking about. I need to feel like it's okay to feel this. I have to tell you, it is the strangest feeling I have ever experienced. It is such a jumbled mess of several other emotions. Both good and bad. Mostly good, but the bad (pining, yearning, wanting) tend to be very strong. This combination makes the whole situation similar to an addiction. Want it, can't have it, makes you want it more.... Sounds like addiction to me. Textbook. What I am yearning for is not any substance of an addictive nature. I will tell you that much. Would not put this much effort into writing about a craving for a 'tini. Believe me. This is much more real. More tangible. More difficult. It deals with matters of both the mind and the heart. Well, I guess I should hold on to the other old saying, "This too, shall pass." ...I hope to Hell it doesn't...

Latin may be a dead language, but it's got some great sayings! Here are three!!

2007-11-26T13:02:00.000-08:00

When I was in High School, we had to chose a foreign language. Everyone had to. We had to spend a few semesters in a classroom learning a language that we may or may not ever need. Usually, the instructors for these languages were as colorful as the language itself. I know that at my High School, this was all too true. There was Herr Bordwell. The German teacher. My German teacher. He looked like a cross between the Pillsbury Dough Boy and Adolf Hitler...That is no exaggeration. Great teacher, albeit a tad high strung. I know there was a woman who taught French and she was every bit of the stereotypical French teacher with the squeaky voice and the die hard insistence on only speaking French in class. Then there were the Spanish teachers and then... The Latin teacher... Mr Soto. Never had a day of class time with this man but I had many conversations with him. He was fascinating. Probably in his 60's at the time I was in High School. Probably too many substances during the 1960's as well. Very laid back. Very cool. VERY intelligent. He taught me a new Latin Phrase at least once a month during my senior year. Just for fun. Just because. There are three that have stuck with me throughout the years and in the last few weeks, these three phrases have become very prevalent in my life. Therefore, I felt compelled to share them. The first saying... Persona non Grata... Literally translated, the unwelcome person. Typically, this phrase is used in diplomatic situations where someone has stepped over the boundaries and is no longer recognized by a governing body. It can also apply to someone who feels on the outside of things. Outside for reasons that are not their choice. I consider it almost a state of being. Ever felt like a Persona non Grata? Like no one wants to let you join in the reindeer games? Like the world is having a good laugh and it's AT you, not WITH you. I hate that feeling. I may bring it on myself but I really don't like it. I have felt it recently and it sucks. When I start to feel that way, the best thing for me to do is move on to the next phrase which is... Carpe Diem... Seize the Day. We all remember the movie "Dead Poets Society." If you don't, you need to rent it. Seriously. This has to be a movie that you see. The phrase Carpe Diem was almost a theme for the movie. Seize the Day. Live life to it's fullest. Grab a hold and hang on. "Gather ye rose buds, while ye may..." Robert Herrick said it. I believe it. Knowing this, I can shake the old Persona non Grata feeling and start grabbing life by the horns. The last phrase is probably my favorite. It is one that has been attributed to Julius Caesar but there are many possibilities as to where it actually originated. The phrase... Alea Iacta Est... The Die is Cast. Uhhhhhh what? It's quite simple, really. Just as in the game of craps where once the die are thrown there is no turning back, this phrase means the dice have been thrown. Cast meaning throw as in cast away, or cast your fishing line. Caesar apparently said these words as he was leading his men into battle as if to say, "Hey boys, there is no turning back now! Drop your cocks and grab your socks because it is into the abyss!!!" So often, I have found this phrase to be a reassuring battle cry in my life when I have made a tough decision. Whenever I start to self-doubt or question a choice, I just remind myself, Alea Iacta Est. No turning back. The choice has been made. The wheels are in motion. You either stick to it, or fall behind and be left for dead. By the way, the phonetic pronunciation for this phrase, as near as I can tell, is a-lay yawk-taw es. I have also heard it pronounced o-lay yawk-taw-es. I am sure the Latins won't care. There are not too many of them around to get on you if you mess it up. I bet Mr. Soto knows the right way.....

Another "Inherit the Wind" moment... Brought to you by Marie Callender's...Makers of the best Humble Pie...

2007-11-12T21:55:00.000-08:00

I had to talk about a moment that I witnessed today. It was a moment that I will not soon forget. One that has left an indelible mark on my brain. One that I will recall for years to come when someone asks me if I have ever seen a hero topple in person. We have all witnessed athletes, celebrities, and religious figures, who once had hero status, fall in disgrace due to their own greed or stupidity. These things usually take place on television. This way, even if they were our hero, we have this built in detachment that is the screen. They are not experiencing this right in front of us. They are thousands of miles away in their own world, not even caring what we think. It is far more rare to see someone you know, perhaps a hero of yours, fall from grace. I saw something like that today. Perhaps not a fall from grace, as it were. More like a weakness. realizing that Superman is weakened by Kryptonite. Finding out that Achilles can be killed if he is hit in the heel. That is what I saw today. How does this relate to Inherit the Wind? What comparisons can be drawn? Very simple. Matthew Harrison Brady (played by Frederic March) is on the stand being cross-examined by Henry Drummond (brilliantly played by Spencer Tracy) in the "Trial of the Century." Keep in mind that the movie is based on the Scopes Monkey Trial and that the courtroom scenes are actual court transcripts. During his cross, Henry Drummond is able to shake the very foundation that Matt Brady is standing on. This leaves Matt shouting incoherently and demanding attention and respect much to the shock of his many followers.... How could this great man be reduced to such a pitiful state? How does a God-fearing man of the Bible get destroyed by a Godless Agnostic in a battle of faith? The expressions on the faces of the followers as they leave the courtroom spoke volumes. They were watching their hero fall. The relationship would never be the same. I must say that what I witnessed was not a man who had been elevated to hero status falling before my eyes. Rather, a man who prides himself in his unflappable demeanor. His crusty, grumpy, outer-shell ever present. His strength in the face of stress and concern always on high. All of these attributes, taken away and he was reduced to tears with one phone call. A phone call that informed him that his mother is dying of cancer. If you know me at all, you have heard me talk about the chef at the restaurant where I work. A stubborn, gravelly voiced, opinionated black man by the name of Leonard. For all of his layers of crust, the man has a heart of gold. He is a boss. He is an asshole. He is a friend. It broke my heart to watch him suffer with the news. I was speechless. Yes, me. I was unable to come up with any words of comfort and encouragement. I felt they would seem insincere, contrived. So, I said nothing. Before I left, I placed my hand on his shoulder. As his back was to me, he had to turn around to see who was violating his personal space. There must have been a knowing look on my face or perhaps there was some influence from above, but this salty, angry, loud bastard actually hugged me. It was one of the most satisfying hugs a man can get from a man. It was just the right thing for both of us. I thought about ruining the moment and grabbing his ass, but I thought better of it....

The Meaning of Life.... No, not the Monty Python movie....The actual meaning....Well, sort of.....

2007-11-06T10:27:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday was interesting. It was one of those days where, at the end of it all, you sit back and say...(plug your ears/close your eyes if you prefer PG rated stuff...) "Holy Shit!" I believe those were my exact words when my head finally hit my pillow sometime very late last night. It was a day filled with so many eye opening and life changing occurrences for me and those close to me that I just could not wrap my head around all of it. Some of the "occurrences" actually took place on another day, well actually just one of the "occurrences," but I just heard about it yesterday. I just noticed that I put quotes around "occurrences." I have done it every time I wrote the word "occurrences." Can't you just see me saying the word "occurrences" and making those little quote signs in the air as I say it? What a complete dork..... I need help.... Okay, back on task. It just seemed to me that yesterday was a day for realization. A day for contemplation. A day for discovery. A day to remember. There were 3 specific instances that I am going to be focusing on. There is no chronological order or order of importance to them. In one way or another, they all have a great deal of importance. Therefore, there is no one event more important than the other. Since yesterday ended up blending itself all together, I have eliminated the need for any kind of chronological order. Okay, that being said, let's go.... I got to talk to a very good friend of mine yesterday. He recently went to Las Vegas to join friends in celebrating a milestone birthday of a close friend of his. It was a surprise party. We all know that these things usually do not work out. Someone always spoils it or the surprise-ee always figures it out. Apparently, neither of these things happened in this case. In fact, it went off like a charm. The birthday boy was completely surprised. Everyone had a great time. There were a lot of tears as this party included many people the birthday boy had not seen in years. Including my friend. It was truly a magical moment. A treasured moment. A moment that I may never have heard about. I almost missed out on a chance to hear about this incredible time. My friend almost didn't make it to the party. He almost died on the way to Vegas. He is VERY lucky to be alive. You have to know this friend of mine to understand why his near death experience is no surprise to me. He is a hard-working man. A blue-collar, union-member, NASCAR- loving, no-bullshit, kinda guy. When he gets an idea in his head, he goes with it and rarely deviates. He had it in his head that he was going to drive to Vegas when the traffic was light and the sun was down so he was going to leave late and get in there early. Well, this approach is okay if you can stay awake driving at night. I, myself, cannot. He says that he can. He thought he could. As he was cruising the highway at 80 miles per hour his body decided to show him that he, in fact, could not. He nodded. Just for a split second. When he looked up, he was headed off the road and into a guardrail. Something caused him to gently pull the steering wheel to the right allowing him to avoid the guardrail which would have meant instant death. He avoided the guardrail only to go right off of the road and continue forward through the desert landscape on the side of the highway. Hitting nothing, he was able to navigate back on to the highway and regain control of the car. So, between missing the guardrail and not hitting anything while off-roading in his Acura sports car I would say that he was touched by some super-natural power that determined it was not his time. This also happened to my very good friend Connie's son, Trevor. Trevor was not in a car rather, he was hit by one. He was riding his bike home from school when he was hit by a car. Something he probably does 5 days a week for the entire school year. Same route. Same everything. It just so happened that on that day, some young girl (that goes to his school) with a history of driving problems, decided not to pay close enough attention to what she was doing. She hit Trevor. Hard. On his way to the hospital, he wanted to make sure the driver knew that he was okay. I was offered a position as a part-time instructor for a nationally recognized Bartending Academy. That's right. No transition. I just put that out there. It was the third incident that happened and I did not know how to tie it in until after the other stories were told but I didn't know how to segue into it so I just said it. Get over it. Okay, what do these 3 things have in common? What great "secret of life" did I discover as a result of these three "occurrences?" Life is not a toy. It cannot be played with. Life is an object d'art in your Grandma's living room that looks like a toy. You try to play with it. Somehow, as soon as you touch it, a cosmic wave gets sent straight to the nearest adult's spine and they rush into the room to quickly slap you across the face and remove the object from your grasp. That is life. When we think things are okay, when we think we can just cruise along, when we have given up hope, it slaps us. Hard across the face. It makes us realize how precious it is. How important it is. How important we are. It shows us that when we look and don't touch, it will reward us with it's beauty. If we are selfish, and we try to play, it will remind us. It always does.

Awwww Hell no.... Tagged again.... Dammit....

2007-10-30T08:49:00.000-07:00

Well, thanks to my dear friend Connie, I have been tagged once again. What do I mean by this? Why does this seem to cause me so much distress? It is the simple fact that I now have to come up with 7 things that you people probably don't know about me or were afraid to ask. The part that really gets to me though is that I am supposed tag 7 people. Not going to happen. You cannot make me and I will not do it. Some people may be okay with piling on unnecessary guilt to unsuspecting fat guys but this fat guy won't do it. I won't. Watch me. I will, however, participate in the seven details about me. I have done this once before so i am going to try to come up with new facts. If I repeat, I am sorry. If you figure out that I have repeated, you either are obsessed enough with me to have memorized the last list or you dug deep into my archives to find out.... Either way, please, seek help. Okay, here we go...

1) I perform Shakespeare and have been paid well for it. Yep. That's right. This fat guy actually has other talents besides his amazing writing and brilliant work in the sack.... Ok, that second part, not really true.... Well, I am not the worst.... I am quite sure of that.... Anyway.... I have done many shows over the last 15 years with the Southwest Shakespeare Company and played a wide variety of roles. I was most recently in "Much Ado About Nothing" in the Spring of '06. It was great. I have a thing for the language. I have a thing for the bawdiness. I love double entendre. I have always enjoyed the stage. Shakespeare just makes it that much better.

2) I have taught Desert Survival classes for Maricopa County Parks and Recreation. The evolution of how I got that gig is quite funny. In my early years of teaching, I got a summer teaching job doing Summer School for elementary school age kids. There were some remedial classes but for the most part there were fun classes. Gave the kids something to do during the summer. One of the classes I taught was Desert Survival. It was fascinating. The kids loved it. I loved it. One of the activities was to have a Park Ranger come in. On one of the Ranger visits, the ranger stayed and listened to some of my presentation. He asked if I would like to develop the curriculum for adults and teach some classes out at Usery Mountain park. I obliged. It was great.

3) When I was in 2nd Grade, I was dead sure that when I grew up, I was going to be an entomologist. Ok, first of all, what the Hell is that? Well, Mr/Ms Impatient Pants, I was getting to that... An entomologist is a scientist who studies bugs. I loved bugs, apparently. So much that I swore that I was going to study them my whole life. My folks even went so far as to get me my own professional dissecting kit so I could dissect bugs. Well, this was a patently bad idea as we soon found out when I was dissecting more toys than bugs and at least once or twice, the "probe" got stuck in a few compromising places.... Bad times..... Very bad times..... Needless to say, between the horrifying experiences with the "probe" and my lack of any type of interest in getting a science based degree, this dream eventually died.

4) My favorite actor of all time is Spencer Tracy. Hands down. Bar none. I should not have to explain or justify this. So, I won't.

5) I love to Downhill Ski. Now, dammit, get the image of the Sta-Puft Marshmallow Man careening down a mountain side at 250 mph. It's not like that. Really. I am pretty good. As long as I stay within my comfort zone and not try any Black Diamonds. For me, the fun of skiing is the feel of the breeze on your face as you glide down a spectacular landscape. The occasional spill or two is bearable when you are with friends and the chair lift always has something in store for you. When I think back to all of the good times I have had in my life, several of the top 20 are ski trips.

6) I could live on Apple Jacks and Cheddar Cheese Pringles. This is not a joke, people. These two creations are the two, single most important creations that exist on this little blue and green ball that is the third rock from the sun. If they were not around, I am quite sure that I would not be either.

7) I once canoed 50 miles down the Colorado River. I am an Eagle Scout. For those of you not familiar, that is the highest rank one can achieve in Boy Scouts. I was very fortunate that I was in an amazing Troop. Troop 288. The biggest bunch of trouble making, noise making, risk taking, illegal activity participating group of guys you would ever want to meet but they all had hearts. The men and the boys. We did so many things and I conquered so many fears it was incredible. I learned so much. I also got to do things that many people never will. Catch and release a rattlesnake. Hike for miles and camp the way God intended it. No luxuries. No comforts. I also got to canoe down the Colorado River. With my father. It was indescribable. The scenery. The camaraderie. Just incredible.

Ok. There you go. Feel like you know me better? Feel closer to me? Feel afraid of me? I think you should....I am messed up.....

"Some Enchanted Evening..."

2007-10-21T08:53:00.000-07:00

So, do you remember the song mentioned in the title? If you have seen the musical "South Pacific," you have heard the song. The other times you may have heard it was any time in a movie/T.V. show/cartoon that two people noticed each other across a crowded room. This song would start slowly in the background as the eyes of the star-crossed lovers would meet. It would then crescendo and come to a climax as the couple met somewhere in the middle of the room. They would embrace with eyes locked in a pathetic stare. It could be the first time they met or a reunion, of sorts. Either way, you have seen the scenario played out many times and more often than not, "Some Enchanted Evening" is the background. Surprisingly, this blog is not about that song. It's not even about music in general. It's about that moment. That amazing moment when you lock eyes with someone across a room and suddenly, you are filled with a feeling that you just know feels right. Yes, I am about to get kind of sappy. Yes, I am going to spend some time touching my feminine side....Wait.... That did not come out right..... Never mind. You get the picture. Well, I hope you don't really have a picture of me touching my feminine side in your head.... That could be scary..... Moving on.... I had one of those moments last night. It was one where perhaps I was the only one that was so moved by that brief yet amazing moment. Honestly, whether the other person felt anything at the very same moment is of no real consequence. It would be amazing if they felt the same way but for the purpose of this blog, just the fact that I felt this pure rush of amazing yummy goodness is what counts. Reason? It has been a looooooonnnnnnnggggg time. Honestly, I cannot remember the last time that I experienced such exhilaration from a look. From a simple glance that lasted a couple of extra seconds. It has been forever if it has been ever. I just sat there after the moment had passed thinking to myself, "Wow! I just experienced one of those moments they talk about in romance novels!" For my male readership, I do have to say I am sorry for the preceding diatribe that made me sound like a weepy chick. For the ladies.... Yeah, that's right, baby, there is a single guy out here who is into the "special" moments and he is looking for you....Well, I gotta tell ya, this past weekend was full of moments in which I experienced feelings that have been long absent from this old, fat guy's arsenal of emotions. It was refreshing, amazing, exciting and did I say amazing? Amazing. Amazing. What else can I say?

One of those days......

2007-10-17T10:11:00.000-07:00

You know, it just started out wrong. I am talking about the day. I mean, here it is, 10:12am and I already know that I am not going to like this day. Why? What is it about this day that has made it bad before it really has gotten a chance get totally started? Nothing. That's right. Nothing at all. No major emergencies. No crises that needed attention. No happenings that made things go south quickly. I guess it has just been one of those days that I "woke up on the wrong side of the bed." What the Hell does that mean anyway? There is only one side of my bed that I can wake up on. Well, there are actually four sides to any bed that you can wake up on. There is only one that I would want to wake up on with my bed. I guess that is where the saying came from. The idea that if you woke up on a side, other than the one you are accustomed to, or the one that is the best to wake up on with the given circumstances you may not be very happy. I know that if I woke up anywhere but where I fell asleep, I would be worried. I share my bed with no one on a regular basis. The cat sometimes joins me but his tenure there is spotty and based on his playfulness level. Too playful, he is gone. Reason? If he is too playful I will inevitably end up with two very sharp fangs being sunk deeply into the cheek of my ass. Not fun at 3am. Trust me. The only other person that may sometimes end up there is Vivian. These rare occasions are usually short-lived. She does not like the way I snore. So, waking up on the wrong side of the bed is really not an option for me. I have but one side to wake up on. I think it is the fact that my phone has rung several times this morning from numbers that I do not recognize. I am one of those people that does not usually answer if I am not familiar with the number. I wait for a message. None of the unrecognized, ignored calls this morning on my phone left messages. That annoys the piss out of me. If you are a salesman, give me the courtesy of telling me this so I can ignore your phone number in the future. If you are a bill collector, you have the wrong number. If you are someone I know, leave a freaking message. How hard is that? I am not great at retuning calls but I do try.... This random number cell phone calling coupled with the fact that I know I have a bunch of crap to catch up on today being my only day off this week has just put me in a sour mood. Yes, I am wearing one of those saggy diapers that leak. Is there any cure? Any way to change my diaper? I can think of a few things but I am not going to hold my breath until they happen. I may be holding it for a looooonnnngggg time. I do feel better. I feel as though just by saying how grumpy I am, I am not as grumpy. That's pretty cool. Ah, the power of words.

Oh dear Lord... Not another music blog.....

2007-10-15T22:27:00.000-07:00

Yes. In fact I am going to dedicate an entire blog to the subject of music. Why, oh, why? As I said in my previous blog.... My blog, my rules. You have a problem with it? Well, express it in the comments part at the end. I truly believe that there are few people in my vast readership that really don't like or at least somewhat agree with what I say about music. I am usually very positive and I can generally hit a nerve or two with many of you when it comes to music. This blog is going to probably hit more nerves among the parenting set but I think it may hit all of us that have parents, are parents or want to be parents. On Saturday night, I had a very rare opportunity to spend some quality time with the angel I call Vivian. The quality time is not what is so rare but rather the Saturday night time. In the restaurant business, Saturdays are busy days. No matter what capacity I am fulfilling at my current place of employ, I am rarely off on Saturday. There were extenuating circumstances that required me to be off this Saturday, so I was. I am so thankful that I was. After spending the day riding our bikes around Mesa (going down "The Hill" between Stapley and Horne on McKellips, you know the one, and shouting "THAT WAS TOTALLY WICKED!!!" at the tops of our lungs at exactly the same time), we got home and relaxed for a bit until it was time to gorge ourselves on pasta, pizza and that cinnamon thing at Cici's pizza. After walking off dinner through the neighborhood it was bath time and then the all important wind down hour. Vivian chose to watch the Zoey 101 scary Halloween movie which I chose to ignore. She soon realized that it was a bit to scary for her tastes and her attention turned to what I was writing about. It happened to be about her and the song "Unwritten." This prompted me to play it a few times as we danced and sang in our usual manner when this song plays. She then wanted to hear other songs and none of them grabbed her attention as much as "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole. I am not sure what it was about this song but there I was, dancing away with her to it several times. Well, she wanted to crank things up a bit so she asked if "I Like to Move It" (the Madagascar version by Sascha Baron Cohen which is the superior version) was on my play list. Sadly, it was not. I soon remedied this and we shook our tail feathers until well after 10pm. Then it was time to wind down so we listened to "Butterfly Kisses" (on my other play list thanks to a very special friend) and "Love Without End, Amen." I cried. She wiped my tears and comforted me. As I was tucking her and Hunter (the cat) in, I thought about how important these moments are. Even more, how important the music that accompanied these moments was. Forever, from now on, she will attach these songs to memories of me. No matter what happens to me. No matter what happens in our relationship. These songs will always bring a good memory of me to her. How amazing is that to think? Forever. That is a mighty long time. I added two songs to my main play list tonight. One is an incomplete version of a song that brings a flood of tears to my eyes whenever I hear even part of it. That's why I am okay with it's incompleteness. It's "The Perfect Fan" by the Backstreet Boys. It reminds me of all of the wonderful things that my mother has done for me and reminds me that she will always be my number one fan. The other song is one by Louis Prima and Keely Smith. My father tells me the whole story of Louis and Keely every single time he hears one of their songs and I am near. I also get the story if he happens to hear about The Jungle Book from myself or Vivian because Louis was the voice of King Louie, the orangutan. These songs are precious to me because of my parents. The songs that are precious to Vivian, I hope, are because of me. Need any other reason to put a soundtrack to your life? Try it.

The Green Monster.....

2007-10-14T23:07:00.000-07:00

Slow down, there, BoSox fans. I am not referring to the left field wall at Fenway. This will not be a blog about Big Papi or Manny. Although, with what's happening to my D'backs..... No! I will not go there. I promised myself I wouldn't. This is not going to be a discussion on baseball. It's about the other green monster. The one that has ruined relationships. Many of them before they even had a chance to begin. The green monster that is so pervasive, it is found in almost every home. The green monster that can start a war and keep it from ever ending. Jealousy, people. Plain and simple. Jealousy. Now I know what you are thinking. What could a single guy who is not in a relationship have to say about jealousy in a time when he should not be experiencing it? Funny you should ask. The answer is 2-fold. First, jealousy is not reserved for relationships. It creeps into every aspect of our lives whether we like it or not so if I want to write about it, I can. My blog, my rules. ( I am focusing on the relationship aspect of jealousy but that is neither here nor there) The second reason is that twice today the topic was brought up in conversations so I felt that was what I needed to talk about. The first conversation involved a young lady I work who I will call "Jen." Aw crap, sorry Jennifer. I used your real name....I'll move on. Jennifer was regaling a few of us male co-workers with a story involving her boyfriend and 3 other guys who were "checking her out." She thought that the guys checking her out were rude and that her boyfriend should have been upset by their brash attempts at stealing her away from her large and obviously "with her" boyfriend. Apparently, according to her he got upset, but did nothing to stop them. Now guys, we know better, right? He was not really upset, right? He just acted upset for her benefit. Deep inside, he was thinking what we all think when other dudes check out our hot ladies...."Yeah, that's right, she's with me! Sucker!" Seriously ladies, this is not what makes us jealous. My ex-wife tried one time to get some sort of reaction out of me by telling me that some stranger had randomly approached her in the parking lot of our local Fry's grocery store to tell her how beautiful she was. Was I supposed to get upset by this? Was I supposed to take it as a hint that I was not saying she was beautiful enough? I am not quite sure. Never will know. Don't care. To me, that is a game. I don't like those kind of games. I have always viewed myself as a relatively non-jealous type. I am proud of the girls that I am with at the time and would not find it necessary to get protective. They are with me. If they want someone else, good riddance. Nothing I can do. You can't stop the love, baby. So, when it comes to this kind of jealousy I think men and women have different views. They will always be different. Mars and Venus and all of that crap. The second conversation I had was with my good friend, I will call her "Wendy," crap I did it again, I am not very good at this, and we were chatting about jealousy vs. insecurity. Is there a difference? Does one cause the other? If you are insecure in yourself or your relationship, are you more likely to be jealous? Does jealousy lead to insecurity? As i am writing these questions I am starting to realize that we are going into a chicken/egg situation. You know what I mean. Which came first, the chicken or the egg? We will never know the answer to this question. Will we ever know the answer to the jealousy/insecurity question? I doubt it. What I do know is that insecurity is something that can be improved or removed. It just takes some work. More often than not, the kind of work it takes requires serious introspection and hard decisions. Sometimes, we are not willing to do these things but if we are going to defeat the Green Monster, we are going to have to.

Hmmmmm....Tastes like chicken.......

2007-10-13T20:36:00.000-07:00

Okay, let's get our minds out of the gutter with the title, people. For those of you who are reading this because of the catchy and suggestive title, shame on you. You will be disappointed that this is not an R-rated blog. Those of you reading this because you truly enjoy reading this author's words no matter what the title is, thank you. Now, on to the subject. "So close you can almost taste it." A simple line from a great song. I know that it is a saying that has been around for many years but it has gained a resurgence in popularity since the great song, "Unwritten." Yes, I know it is a "chick" song. Yes, I know that I am essentially emasculating myself by admitting that I listen to the song frequently enough to be inspired by one of it's lines but I will tell you this.... I listen because Vivian loves the song (I do too, but I am not going to admit it to you....crap, I just did......maybe they are just skimming and they missed it.....just go on....act naturally......). Vivian loves the fact that this song is on my play list. Whenever Daddy is writing the song almost always comes on. It does not matter where she is in the house, she comes running and we dance and sing the song like there was no tomorrow. That is why I know it so well. That's why the line about being able to taste something that is so close is the topic of this blog. Ever experienced this feeling? I am sure the saying got it's origins in the times when there were wide open spaces and folks would be cooking out all of the time. You would be on your way to said cookout and as you would approach, you could taste the food as it was being prepared even if you could not see the cooking taking place....The smell would waft through the air for miles... It would make you salivate. Your stomach would growl. You would greedily lick your lips. You could not wait until you got there. The trip could not take any longer. I think this happens literally and figuratively. Just like my blog about anticipation this one is about wanting something. Only this time instead of waiting for it, it's here and I can't have it. Like the pie that Grandma baked in the other blog....Only this time, you can't eat it. It's for company. It would be like the Spider-Man decoder ring arriving but you can't have it until your birthday. This is the "so close you can almost taste it" stuff I am talking about. I gotta tell ya, I have a great taste in my mouth right now. Too bad I am so close, yet so far. Close, apparently, only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades. So I have been told. I think it counts in my present situation, too. I am close, I can taste it, I am okay with that. At least I got to taste. Some folks never will. Sucks to be them!

Tears of a Clown....

2007-10-10T23:34:00.000-07:00

For the most part, I find it easy to be funny. Those of you who know me well, know that even in the face of most serious situations, I am not above making a joke. Those of you who do not know me, except by what you read in my little online diary we call a blog, I think that you may be able to tell that I am a funny guy. With all of this in mind, I must now apologize for the tone of this blog. At the present time I am not happy. Normally, I can muddle my way through an unhappy moment. I can usually find strength in humor. Some call it a mask, I call it strength. Whichever way you look at it, in times of stress or anger, I can be pretty funny. I am not too sure about finding humor when I am experiencing anguish, though. I have rarely dealt with complete devastation. I know that I have dealt with it, but I don't remember if I was able to laugh about it at the time. What I do know is that right now I am devastated. Completely. I also know that I am not laughing. I cannot even comprehend laughter right now. So..... What has me devastated? You will not believe what I am about to say, but.... I can't tell you. This is not a joke. I am not smiling grimly, thinking about the times before that I have set you up only to make you fall. I truly cannot discuss the issue that has me weeping as I type this. As I have done before, I will try to share some of what it is without revealing too much. I was told a secret. I can assure you that this was not a school girl (Bobby likes you...No WAY!!!!.... Yes WAY!!!! He told me at recess!!!!!) kind of secret. It was not an "I am not wearing any underwear" kind of secret either. This one was big. The kind of secret that, after it sinks in, you think to yourself, "Now why the fuck did you tell me that?" I am sorry for the language, but remember, I am not happy. No, I did not learn that my buddy is fooling around on his girlfriend with her best friend. I could only wish it was that. No, I did not learn the season finale to Heroes (that's a popular show, right?). I learned that a very close fiend of mine is in serious trouble. The kind of trouble that you cannot get away from without a few scars. He already has too many scars. Trust me, he's got plenty. He does not need any more. No, it is not a legal issue. No, it is not a murder that I am covering up. No crimes were committed, with the exception of the few public disturbance calls that will be made when I am done writing and am outside screaming at the top of my lungs to make the pain go away. Truth be told, the secret is one that I never wanted to hear. I am glad I did because it helped him to tell SOMEONE. He has been unable to tell anyone else. He chose me. For that, I am honored. Also, for that reason, I am going to kick his ass. Tomorrow, there will be a part two to this secret. There is a slight chance that it will make things better. It will make the secret one that is not so bad to know. This is what I am hoping for. I hope that part two will be a good secret. I am praying for it. Please join me in this. Just tell God that you read my blog and I told you to pray for a friend of mine. He'll know what you are talking about. He's been briefed.

I hate bees...... I really do......

2007-10-06T15:22:00.001-07:00

We all have fears. I am no exception. If you read the survey that is poSted on my MySpace profile, you will read that my two biggest fears are bees and relationships. The latter is, what I believe to be, pretty self-explanatory. Ther are a number of relationships in my past that I have screwed up and even more that have screwed me up so therefore, I prefer to stay away from them if at all possible. The former should be self-explanatory as well. The thing of it is, where did this bee fear come from? I guess it is normal for people who are allergic or have past experiences with stinging, flying insects to develop a natural fear but I have neither. That I know of. I have been told that I have been stung before but I don't recall. As long as I can remember, my reaction to bees has been one that resembles a little girl running and screaming from a big scary monster. I never thought that I waited around long enough to have an experience with one. Until today. I have little time to write today on this subject so I have no time for any set-up but here is the deal. I was in Maricopa, sorting through some dumped objects, bent over, in a pair of shorts that tend to give me a mad case of plumber-butt. In addition, I was going commando (which is not too uncommon). A bee found her way into said shorts and immediately began struggling to escape. Not knowing what had flown down my crack I immediately swatted in the general vicinity and landed right on top of the unsuspecting, panicked bee with my large hand. She did all she could to defend herself by inserting her stinger into a very private place. No, not the VERY private place. Close enough, though. I am hurting. It's still throbbing. I hate bees. I really do.

"Ooooo...Owww...Ouch... I hate when I do that...." - Willie

2007-10-03T22:07:00.000-07:00

I love my blog titles. They are very often loaded with double meanings. Sometimes they are pretty straight-forward. If there is a double-meaning you can still enjoy the humor or the relation to the actual blog. Other times, they require some explanation. Like this blog's title. I am certain that many of you are wondering who the Hell Willie is and why I am quoting him. How is this quote from some strangely named person germane to one of this writer's amazing blogs? I shall reveal in good time. You will see how the title fits with what I am discussing tonight. I will need to explain who Willie is. He is a character that Billy Crystal used to do on Saturday Night Live. Am I dating myself by talking about Billy Crystal on Saturday Night Live? Oh well, screw it. This is not about Willie. It's about Billy. You still with me? I love Billy Crystal. I always have. He is great. The best thing about him in everything he does is his delivery. Certain lines. The way they are said. He has an everyman quality that you can just relate to. In the movie "When Harry Met Sally" he delivered a line that has stuck with me over the years. He was talking about something his ex-wife said. When he was describing what she said he said that it had one of those "cartoon balloons" around the words. Making the words just hang there. Giving them a physical presence. So, my point is, has this ever happened to you? Ever said something that you could almost see the words above you in a "cartoon balloon?" Now, have those words ever been so bad that you wanted nothing more than to take them back? You wanted to just reach up and tear the words up into a million tiny pieces. I have. Very recently. I said something that I wish a cartoon balloon was attached to. Something that I wanted to rip up and act like I never said. No cartoon bubble, though. See where I am going with this? See how the title fits? I knew you would. It was one of those moments that wished that there was a big remote control in the sky that would allow me to hit the rewind button. Well, I am pretty sure there is a remote control like that. Think about it. When someone is born, that means the Big Guy pressed play. When someone dies, He pressed stop. When someone does cocaine, he pressed fast forward. Well, not just then. The FF button is also for when we try to do too much in not enough time. I have essentially seen these three buttons at work. Rewind is a little tougher. We try to rewind all of the time. We recreate scenes. We re-live the past. We try to remember the way things were. This is not the rewind button at work though. I believe, no, I hope the rewind button works in a different way. I hope that if you and the person you said the thing that you wish you didn't to both reach up and hit that button with the Big Guy, that you can actually rewind and redo that very moment. Thereby, removing the words as though they never happened. I truly believe that you both have to do it at the same time though. If you said something to a bunch of people, you all have to do it together. Either way, it has to be those involved and Him in order for it to be done right. I have my hand on the button. I know He does. I just hope and pray that her hand will be there soon and we can push it and we can start over from that moment. So, what did I say that was so terrible? What could I have said that would make me so desperate to take it back? Yeah, right. I'm gonna tell you.... Y'all know me well enough to know that was coming, right? I will tell you what I am comfortable with sharing, though. What I asked this person to do was like asking a fish to live without water. Like asking a child to live without toys. Like asking Sonny to live without Cher......Wait, scratch that one....He's dead and she never liked him anyway......The first two, though, you wouldn't do, right? I suppose you could. You could take all of a kids toys away and say, "No more," save the occasional free toy in the cereal box or Happy Meal. Would the kid die? Probably not. He/she would adjust. Find a new way to entertain themselves. Kids are resourceful. More importantly, they are resilient. They would be okay. You still wouldn't do it, though. Would you? How about the fish and the water thing? That seems a little more extreme and a little more impossible to do, right? Wrong. If evolution has taught us anything, we now know that all living things can find a way. Life finds a way. Heard of a lungfish? It's a fish that lives in Africa, Asia and Australia. It can burrow down into the ground just before the dry season and go into a catatonic state, encased in mud and live. Live long enough to see the next rainy season. It can do this all through it's life cycle. So, yes there is a fish that can live without water. Just one kind, though. Obviously it's not the best way to live. That's why all other fish need water. It makes life easier for them. The point is, yes, people can change. They can evolve. They can adjust. They can deal. We will always be able to. What I did, though, was ask someone to do that when I had no right to. I asked her to adjust. Evolve. Move on. Deal. I did not want that. I do not want that. I cannot live with that. I will not live with that. I should have never asked. I want to rewind. Join me in praying that it will happen. Join me in hoping that she knows that I need to rewind so that I can say what I really meant. Join me in wishing that the button will work. I hope I have tied the title together with the story enough. I know that Willie was saying, "Ooooo, Ow, Ouch," about when he threw his legs up over his head and shaved the backs of them with a cheese grater and then squatted in a bowl of gin but we are both talking about pain. Serious pain. Pain that we hope will go away.

I knew it.....Dammit....I knew it......Oh....I'm over it....

2007-09-29T23:06:00.000-07:00

You ever get the feeling that besides God, the Devil, the angels, the arch-angels and the demons that there is someone else up there that is in charge of messing up your days. For the purpose of this blog, I will call him Norman. Norman is not an angel. He does not have wings. He does not fly. He sits at a desk. He does not have a trumpet or a sword, he has a transistor radio and a pencil that is never sharp enough. He doesn't have horns but he does have horn-rimmed glasses. Norman is the day ruiner for Heaven, Hell and all stops in between. An other-worldly Comptroller, if you will. Norman does not like his position. He has never liked it. The problem is, no one will do it. The Heavenly representatives never want to do anything that could be construed as "not very nice." The Below-The-Earth contingency does not think that Norman's job is "bad" enough. So Norman is stuck. What is his purpose? What does the job-description read? Well, basically this.... If someone is having too many good days and too many good things happening, Norman needs to shake things up a bit. Send a bloody nose and a chafing problem to the fat guy. This way he can not only worry about his blood-pressure but he has to walk slowly and with a pronounced limp. See? Not enough to raise the eyebrows of the Satan-types but enough that the angels may feel kinda bad. Norman is the guy who sends the ants to the picnics. He opens the rain clouds on an important event that is non-religious and non-spiritual (i.e. weddings, sunrise services, funerals....these all fall under the God/Devil category). Norman gives you a cold sore the day before your first date with your dream woman/man or a big zit on your forehead the day of your Senior Prom. Got it? Harmless but hateful. Wrong but comical. Today, I hate Norman. I was cruising along....Got the cat.... Had a productive week.... Given some stuff to look VERY forward to.... And then Norman got a memo that I had too many good things going. The aforementioned fat guy with the bloody nose and chafing? Me. Also had a recently de-clawed cat spring a blood leak out of one of the sutures all over my shirt and the floor. This after he protested the shredded paper in the litter box (Doctor's orders!!!!) by crapping outside of the box, which is where? In my room. Yep. One of those days and I have Norman to thank. George Carlin once complained about people that always said "Have a nice day!" George believed that this was not right. Maybe he just had 63 nice days in a row and "By God, I am ready for a crappy day!!" Why doesn't anyone say that? "Have a crappy day!" Maybe if people did every now and then, Norman could take a little vacation. Get himself a Pina Colada and a shot of Tequila and get, the Hell, off my back! I am really making this sound worse than it was. It's all true, but what is also true is the fact that at the end of the day, my beautiful child and new feline friend (Hunter, by the way....I'll explain another time) posed for an awesome picture as they lay next to each other, ready for bed. It was touching. I was wiped clean of all of Norman's dirty work for that one, brief, shining moment. It was cool. Then I remembered that I am still excited about things to possibly come and that made me feel a lot better. All in all, Norman did his job. He ruined my streak of exceptional days. He will always get credit where credit is due. He'll just never get promoted. Thank God!

Virtue...smirtue....I hate waiting......

2007-09-28T22:57:00.000-07:00

Hey, let me ask you a question. Yes, you. I gotta know. Have you ever known something or someone was coming to you and just couldn't wait? The thought of the arrival of the item or person consumed you so much that you could not eat, sleep or think straight. C'mon, you know you have felt this way. Let me try to help you remember or at least relate. Grandma. She visits once a year. She lives thousands of miles away and you only get to see her for the 2 weeks that she is here. Those two weeks are the most amazing, fun-filled, exciting times that your little 8 year old brain can possibly handle. She bakes you chocolate chip cookies. She bakes Apple Pies that are so good, you know you will never find their equal. She takes walks with you to the Thrifty Drug store to buy you ice cream cones (double chocolate malted crunch and butter pecan) even though her body is racked with Osteoporosis. She goes to your school and has lunch with you. She knits you an afghan of your school colors. You remember those times. If it wasn't your Grandma (as it was in my case if you have not figured it out yet) it was an aunt or uncle or cousin. You get the point. Now, think about the weeks prior to their arrival. You started to get excited. As the time wound down to a week, you could hardly contain yourself. Then you were down to mere days and you were literally bouncing off of the walls. The night before....you were totally incapable of sleeping. Even the Benadryl your mom spiked your milk with has no effect. You are wired. You are uncontrollable. But it is good. Eventually, your body craps out and you pass out. Only to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn ready and raring to get to the airport for the long-awaited reunion. Isn't that moment that you see them coming down the jet way worth everything? Even now, as you are reading this, aren't you feeling that all over again. I am. This is the kind of anticipation that I am talking about. Not convinced you know what I mean? Okay, try this. You go through ten boxes of Cocoa Krispies in just under two weeks so that you can collect enough box tops to send away for your very own Spider-Man decoder ring. After the nausea finally passes, you help mom address the envelope and walk it out to the mailbox knowing that in 6-8 weeks, you will finally be able to solve any mystery the world may throw at you. The first 4 weeks pass rather uneventfully. You have almost forgotten about it. Then Matt tells you he started collecting box tops and BAM!!! you remember that you have your ring coming soon. You rush home that day and check the mailbox. This ritual is repeated every day until the moment of truth arrives. You get your ring!!!! It does not matter that 3 hours from that moment, the ring will be put down and never touched again. What matters is that it was there. You waited. You did not die while waiting (as you thought you would 6 1/2 weeks ago). Now try to tell me you can't relate to that.... It's anticipation, man. Remember the saying Patience is a Virtue? Try telling that to an 8 year old waiting for Grandma or a 10 year old waiting for a decoder ring.... Or a 34 year old waiting for a special moment..... What am I waiting for? What has me so excited and worked up? I'm not telling. Ha ha. Suffice it to say, I cannot sleep.

"Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Breast..." - William Congreve

2007-09-27T22:14:00.000-07:00

I realize that I spend a great deal of time and energy talking about music. Especially when you consider that I am not a musician. Well, not really. I played drums in Jr High and High School but that was just for getting the ladies.....Alright, no comments.... It was a joke. Anyway, yes, I do talk a great deal about music. As I have said before, there is a good reason for this. Music is such an integral part of my life. Whether it's Randy Travis belting out "He Walked on Water" that reminds me of my departed grandfather or the Barenaked Ladies singing "Pinch Me" that conjures up one of a very few good memories of my ex-wife and I. Dancing with Vivian in my arms just giggling and cooing as I spun them around, singing poorly. Music has a way of meaning so much. Not just particular songs. Any music. This is no more evident for me then when I am working. Many of you know I have been in the restaurant business for a great deal of time. In my latest position, I am in the kitchen quite often. Those of you familiar with the business know that the kitchen is a hard place to be. It is hot. Very hot. For a fat guy (like me), it can be unbearably hot. In addition to the heat, there is a great deal of pressure. Orders need to go out in a timely fashion, they need to be correct and more often than not, they need to be aesthetically pleasing. A lot of pressure. Most of the pressure falls on the shoulders of the "Wheel Man." This is the guy who co-ordinates everything. The timing, the precision and the aesthetics. He then must push the food out in the correct order. He also takes the complaints from the servers and floor managers and makes them right. So, the point of this is that I get to be that guy quite often. I have found that it is essential for me to have music to do this job correctly. Yes, I said that right. I need music to assist me in co-ordinating all of these things. I am one of those rare people who finds that tasks involving a great deal of concentration are actually performed better with a musical distraction. I am almost RainMan-like about it. Yeah... gotta have my music...Yeah... K-mart sucks.... Tonight, for instance, I was pushing out a party of 40 and right in the middle of it, with Meatloaf's "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" (which I had requested earlier, I am such a geek, thank you 98.7 the Peak) playing in the background, some HEATHEN pulled the plug on my music. I stopped. Dead in my tracks. I did not know what to do or say. I stopped what I was doing. I was not going to push out the remaining 20+ meals without my Meatloaf. Someone in the crowd, opposite of me, recognized this and quickly plugged the music back in. The rest of the food went out and all was well. Music has charms that can sooth the savage breast. Yes, it is breast not beast. This is one of the most frequently misquoted quotes. It is really breast. I think breast is appropo. Don't you? You know what? I had a lot more to write on this. I will continue many of these thoughts in another blog. In another time. Right now, a song has influenced me in another fashion. I just got through listening to "18th Floor Balcony" by Blue October. Heard it? Amazing. It takes me to a place that I am, frankly, not comfortable discussing with y'all. A very special place. A very happy place. A happy place indeed. I cannot continue. I am too emotional right now. It's a good thing though. It drives my point home, yet again. Music is amazing. It soothed my savage breast TWICE tonight. That is a feat not accomplished by mere mortals. Only music.

"I wuz wookin' pa nub in all da wong paces, wookin' pa nub..." -Buckwheat

2007-09-26T20:58:00.000-07:00

So, there was a bulletin posted on my Myspace in the last couple of days. It was one of those surveys that we are all so very excited to participate in. Especially when someone tells us we have to or some extremity is going to fall off. I don't usually do them. I do like to read them, though. It's the voyeur in me. Oh, who am I kidding. We all like to read them for that very reason. Aren't we all voyeurs in one way or another? I digress. Don't keep letting me do that. Back on task. So I was reading the questions and answers on this one and as usual, I was answering them in my head as well. I suddenly stopped though. I could not believe how much this question stumped me. I know I have been asked this question a thousand times but I don't think I ever really answered it. I think I always had some canned answer that would appease the asker and we'd move on. As I sat alone, with no one to judge my answer, I actually thought about it. Guess you want to know what the question was, huh? "Do you believe in TRUE LOVE?" Now, I know what y'all are thinking. It's the same thing I thought at first.... Well, yeah....I believe in true love.....That's when the stumping happened. Do I really? Do I really believe in the fairy tale idea of true love? Do I really picture Wesley and Buttercup on that mountain top in Princess Bride when she pushes the Man in Black down the hill and as he is tumbling head over heels and yelling "AS YOU WIIIIIISH" she realizes it's Wesley and jumps after him? Is that real? Or am I like Miracle Max from the aforementioned movie who believes that a nice Mutton, Lettuce and Tomato sandwich is just as good as true love? Am I like Berowne from Love's Labor's Lost who spends his whole life chastising lovers and people in love only to find himself mesmerized by "among three, the worst of all....a whitely wanton with a....velvet brow, with two pitch balls stuck in her face....for eyes." Which is it? What category do I belong in. I have always said, yes. Plain and simple. It is possible. So, why am I single. Isn't 34 years enough time to wait for it? If it were the middle ages, I would be an old man. Life expectancy back then was about 30, so if I did not have "true love" by this point, I would be S.O.L. Of course, they also had no sewers below the ground back then. They were all above ground and ran right through the middle of town. That might explain the short lives.....Digressing again...... Back to me being single. I wondered, am I single because I have not found true love or do I know my true love but I am just not with them? Deep, huh? Wanna go deeper (Oooooo that did not sound good....)? Wanna delve deeper into it than that (that sounds better)? Is your "soul mate" the same as your "true love?" Is the person with whom your soul is intertwined so deeply with that you will be together on the other side the same person you are destined to be with on this side? Is it? C'mon Mr/Miss Know -It - All.... Tell me. I really need to know. It's kind of important. This is where I went when I read the question. Are you there with me? Do you remember in The Princess Bride when Wesley could not die because he had true love? He was only "mostly dead." Remember how Buttercup was going to kill herself when she thought that Wesley was dead? Hang on....That just might be it.... We have all heard the stories of the couples who have been together for so many years that when one of them died, the other went in a matter of a few months. Not wanting to live without their true love. They just gave up. They died of a broken heart. This happens with couples who have not been together for that long. I know this. It happened in my family. Some non-believers said that there were explainable medical reasons why she died so soon after her husband but if you ask her brother, she died of a broken heart. Plain and simple. We miss you Michelle. I think that's it. I think I have the answer. I do believe in true love. I believe it is the love between two people that exists as long as the two people are here on earth. Doesn't matter if they are together all of the time. It just matters that they are here. On this big green floating ball in the sky. The thought of them not being here ever again is too much for the other to live with. They cannot continue on. Shakespeare wrote a whole play about this kind of love. You know which one? Remember the "star-crossed lovers?" Romeo and Juliet. Romeo says to himself, "...see how she leans her cheek upon her hand? Oh, that I were a glove on that hand that I might touch that cheek..." That is love, folks. Deep love. Do you have it?

"I don't care if he's Bohemian, it's still the Damn Cat!" -Don Jones

2007-09-25T22:56:00.000-07:00

Well, it's done. The cat was taken to the vet today to get neutered and de-clawed. Just the front claws. It is a male cat. He weighs 6.5 lbs and is approx. 6 1/2 months. Now I know that some of you may be saying..."Back the heck up.... Cat??!!! Brad Jones with a cat?" I know. Sounds weird. Some of you may remember that I had a cat for a short period of time when I was nineteen and first on my own. Remember Abe? The deaf cat? Man, he was a trip. He was the cat that was hurled across the room one very drunken evening. He was okay. Wouldn't talk to me for a week, but he did land on his feet...... Those were different times. I had a lot of anger inside of me back then and the six 33oz mugs of Coors Light and 4 shots of Goldschlager did not help with the anger. There is no anger now. Really.... Not too much anyway. There is no alcohol this time at all. I think I am ready. In fact, I know I am. I have to be. This cat was a gift. Uh oh, here he goes again....That's right folks. I am about to shock you with a little more spirituality. This cat was a gift from my higher power (I am choosing to go with higher power as opposed to God so as not to put some of you into complete cardiac arrest but I know it was God). We have all experienced the odd stray cat that seeks out attention as we walk through our neighborhoods. They usually stay around for a pat on the back and a rub against the leg but then they are off. Satisfied that they have done their job. Done what they are paid to do. Amuse the human. This cat was different. He stayed with me through the rain, another cat and a quarter mile of walking. When he got to the house, he walked in as though he owned the place, plopped down and has not left since. So what makes me think that this is a gift from Him? I just know. You have to take my word for it. I guess I could expound a little..... There have been several times in my life that I have struggled with the existence of a higher power. Many times I have found myself wondering why He has forsaken me. For reasons I am not going to mention, I was at one of those places recently. Not too long after I find myself asking for some sort of proof or some kind of sign, here comes this cat. To me. I fell in love instantly. I find myself missing him right now as I type. Attacking my feet or curling up behind me on this computer chair. This emotion after just a few days. You gonna tell me that is not a sign? Vivian is not with me all of the time. When she is not with me, I feel like a part of me is missing.... This cat has helped, in just a few short days, to fill that void. Not completely. That will never happen. He sure makes it easier. I know this is a sign because I am constantly reminded of the story about God and his love in the story of the Footprints in the Sand. You all know it. The man who dreams that he has died and is walking along the beach with Jesus. Watching scenes of his life passing by he notices there are two sets of Footprints in the Sand. Except, during the hard times, he sees only one set. He asks Jesus, "Why is there only one set of footprints at some points? They seem to be at the points in my life when things were at their worst. Why did You abandon me then? Did you not say that if I loved You and believed in You that You would always be there for me?" Jesus simply replied, "My son, that is when I carried you." Gives me chills just writing it. My twist to the story will be this though.... When it's my turn to walk along that beach with Jesus, I will look at the footprints and see three sets from this point on. Me, Jesus and the Damn Cat. When there are 2 sets, I know it will be the cat and Jesus. I hope he's been working out, though....

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends" John 15:13

2007-09-23T21:57:00.001-07:00

What is this????? The celebrated agnostic using a biblical quote as his title? Hang on a second, I never said I was agnostic. Much like Spencer Tracy in Inherit the Wind, I am a firm believer that religion and agnosticism can peacefully coexist. I know....How? Never mind, this is not about religion. It is not about agnostics or even about me. It is about friends. The quote is from the Bible but it was made very famous by Rudyard Kipling in his popular book, The Jungle Book. Bagheera the panther tells Mowgli this very quote as Baloo lays there, dead. Killed while protecting Mowgli. Well, we know that Baloo is not dead. It does not change the sentiment, though. Is there a love greater than the willingness to lay down your life for a freind? Think abot this for a minute. I mean it!!!! Think about it. There is a gunman standing in front of you and he IS going to kill you or your friend. Do you say, "Kill me. I am single and have no one. He is married with kids and a huge family. He deserves to live. Take me." Or the other way, " Kill me. He is single. He has never had the pleasure of being a parent. He has never experienced the love of a wife. Let him live so that he may see how great these things are. I have them. I will miss them but I had my turn." Would you do one of these? Would you lay down your life for a friend? I guess we need to define what a friend is. For some of you. For me, a friend is anyone that is in my life that is not related to me. It is a given that I would lay down my life for anyone that I am related to. If you know me, you know that is hard for me to say but that it is true. If you know me at all, you also know that I am serious about my definition of friend. ANYONE that is in my life. Yes, there are some friends that mean a great deal more to me than others. Yes, there are those that I keep closer than many others. That does not take away the importance of another person's life to me. Yes, I value my life. Yes, being killed would seriously put a damper on my dreams of watching Vivian graduate from college. I think it may even strain my relationship with my parents if I up and died. The truth is though, they could all always remember that I died for something I believed in. I died so that a friend could live. According to the Bible, that is the greatest kind of love there is. The Bible, people!!!! Do you need a higher authority? I think not. There are those that might say to me, "What if your friends don't feel the same about you?" What kind of question is that? What difference does it make? How they feel about me is not what I will be thinking about in a life or death situation. I will only be thinking of all of the things they did to make my life better in one way or another. Maybe it was a smile everytime they saw me. Maybe it was the memories of certain events or times that we shared. Maybe it was the secrets we kept together that they never told anyone about. Maybe it was their love of their children that tought me how to love. Maybe it was the way their eyes would almost see right through me every time I looked into them. Maybe it was the support they showed when everyone else said I shouldn't do something. Maybe it was the fact that they were there for me when I needed a shoulder. The list of things that my friends have done for me is endless. In a life or death situation, this is what I would be thinking. I would not be concerning myself with what they are thinking. I would merely be thinking of what they mean to me. That's everything. My friends mean everything to me. So, to my friends, Lean on Me, when you're not strong. You can always Stand By Me, because That's What Friends Are For. I hope you all know, You've Got a Friend in Me. Always. Thank you, all.

A lond day's journey....oh never mind...

2007-09-22T00:08:00.000-07:00

I want you to take a journey with me. This is a journey that will take you back a few years. I am taking you with me for two reasons. Number one, I am truly interested in what others feel about the trip. I want to know how you feel. The second reason is so that I can cleanse or at least sort out some of these random thoughts and feelings that are exploding in my head. This is not a social experiment. I am not really searching for any kind of data. No hard numbers....Heh heh.. I said hard.... Dammit. Where did that come from? I am trying to be serious here!! Heh heh.... I said come....Moving on.... This is just a journey that I am choosing not to take alone in a proverbial sense. I want you to come with me? Wanna join? Let's go.... Back in time..... You are now in High School, Junior High, Middle School, or, for you early bloomers, Elementary School. I want you to project yourself to the exact year that you first kissed a member of the opposite sex in a manner that was both welcomed and enjoyed by both parties. Ladies, you know why I say it like that because of the boys who would force themselves on you at the roller rink when you were skating backwards and their friends were watching. Guys, you know I say it that way because of all of those cramped nervous times you were forced into a closet for "seven minutes in heaven" when you just wanted to tp someone's house. I am not talking about those scenarios. Or any other where both parties were not totally "into" it. I am talking about your all important first kiss. The one you thought about every day. The one you practiced on your pillow for. The one you knew would come, you just never knew when. Think about that one. Think about the day it happened. What grade you were in? Who it was with? What were you wearing? What were they wearing? Was it before/after/during school? On a weekend? Were you totally nervous or did you remain calm? Did you shake? Are you shaking now? I am. Literally trembling. Just thinking about it makes me shake like a leaf on a tree. I don't want a ton of responses that answer all of the above questions. Just want to see if you are shaking too. What is it that makes the first kiss such an amazing event in our lives? Did you feel the same when you lost your innocence? I say it like this because I think there is a difference between "innocence" and "virginity." Stay with me. I remember the first boobie I touched. Not brushed pass accidentally on purpose. Not grabbed in a wrestling match for a note that was note supposed to be read by a boy. I mean permission granted touching. Same goes for other naughty bits. This kind of playing is what I consider loss of innocence. Virginity is pretty self-explanatory. Do you shake when you think of either of these? Better yet, do you shake as much? I am still shaking simply because I am still excited about the kiss. The other things seemed less important to me. They were great, do not get me wrong. I was excited. I enjoyed them trememdously but I am not shaking because of them at this very minute. Nope. It was the kiss. Where does that feeling go? The feeling that causes you to shake. Did you get it when you met the person you are currently with be it wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, friend with benefits, lover, mistress, mist....hey, what is the male equivalent to mistress? Never mind. You understand what I am asking. Honestly, truly and with fear of retribution if you are lying, did you feel the exact same way when you first kissed the one you are with? Did you ever get that feeling again? At any point in your life. I have. I mean it!!! There was one person that made me feel that very same way when our lips met. The thought of that kiss is making me shake all over again. Just as much as when I think about the first kiss. I hope that some day, I can feel it again. I can tell you this much, I will not waste my time with another person of the fairer sex if I don't get that feeling on the first kiss. I have to have it. Will I be waiting a long time? I am prepared to. I have to. It is only then that I will know that it is right. Okay, journey is over. Back to reality. Hope I was a good guide. Thank you for humoring me. I need it every now and then.

I dig old movies....

2007-09-18T23:12:00.000-07:00

There was a movie that came out in 1955 called Love is a Many Splendored Thing. Great movie. Alas, this blog is not about the movie. It is about the title. This blog is going to be about a few movie titles and what they mean to me. Before I go off on one of my tangents, let's discuss this first one. This concept of love being a many splendored thing. The dictionary has splendor as "brilliant, full of light and brightness.... yadda yadda..." Speaking of dictionaries, did you know that the word spleen can also mean "malice or full of avarice?" I had no idea. So, instead of saying that someone did something out of meanness, we can say they did it out of spleenness? You are a spleenful person? That was really spleen? Wow, I am totally going to start using that stuff.....Oh sorry..... Where was I? Oh yeah, splendored. So, according to this movie/song title, love is brilliant. Love is full of brightness and light. You know, I had something really cynical and quite pathetic to say but I just changed my mind. I was just about to go off on how dark and dull love is. How difficult it is to deal with and how empty it leaves you. I really was. I just changed my mind as I was typing. "What a Good Boy" by the Barenaked Ladies just came on. If you have read any of my MySpace blogs, you know that I love this song. It is an amazing song that sends chills down my spine and causes me to gush tears every time I hear it. It came on just as I was getting ready to spew forth disdain for the one emotion that is now filling me with Brightness. Brilliance. Yeah, love can hurt. So does falling down. It's part of life. You learn to move on when love dies. Just like we learn to move on when someone or something close to us dies. What fills love with it's splendor is the fact that you know when you have it. It's the greatest feeling in the world. I find myself almost speechless at this very moment. I know, hard to believe. I mean it. I do not know what else to say about love. Only that I have had it. I have it. I will always have it. Next movie title. I would be remiss in any discussion of movie titles if I did not mention Inherit the Wind. Not only is this a great movie title, it is my all-time favorite movie. The title actually comes from the Bible. "He that troubleth his own house, shall inherit the wind." Proverbs 11:29. It has always blown me away how a movie that is wrought with individuality, agnosticism, evolutionary principles would have a biblical quote for it's title. That, my friends is the genius. One of the things I loved about the movie so much is the fact that it preached (no pun intended) the need for everyone on both sides of the issues to learn to come together. The famous last scene with Spencer Tracy standing in the courtroom, Bible in one hand, Origin of Species in the other. Slams them together, tucks them under his arm and walks out the door alone. Symbolism. Irony. That is what makes the title so damn good. Symbolism. Irony. Speaking of irony, remember that Alanis Morrisette song "Ironic?" There is a line in there that I am thinking about right now..... Never mind. Inside thought. Went back to that whole love thing. I can't seem to shake it. I have never been that moved by an emotion while writing before. It has really messed me up. In a good way...I honestly don't think I can go on. I need a good cry. Well, not really. That did not sound very manly. What I meant was, I need to go hit something. Something soft. Not an angry hit. Not at all. There is no anger in me right now. Only Love.

2007-09-17T19:05:00.000-07:00

As I was on my way to Vivian's open house this evening, a truck passed me on the freeway at a high rate of speed. Now, when I say a truck, I do not mean a Ford Ranger or some other light truck. I am not even referring to something larger like a Chevy Silverado..... I am referring to what Vivian calls a "monster truck." I grew up knowing a monster truck to be Bigfoot or something of the like. What passed me on the freeway was not Bigfoot or even really close to be honest, but it was big. The tires were about as tall as I am. This truck did not just have a lift kit, it had it's own FAA number. As this truck passed me, the first words out of my mouth were, "Well, he is obviously compensating for a small penis." We all think that don't we? Am I alone in this? I think not. We all assume that the drivers of these vehicles feel like they need to make up for SOMETHING so we automatically go to the penis since it is an extension of manliness...Right? It is, right? That's what I have heard and I always assumed that is why some people accused me of being gay.....Joking....Really.....I am all man, dammit. Back to the topic. This truck had no sooner passed me that I noticed his license plate. It was a personalized plate (go figure) but I was shocked and very amused when I saw what it said.... COMPNS8. That's right folks. It was the word "compensate" in license plate short form. How freaking funny is that? Here is a guy (or girl but probably a guy since the driver was a guy) who is so self-aware that he put on his plate what he knows we are all thinking when we see that behemoth of a truck. I laughed my ass off for the next mile or two and it got me to thinking.... What happened to the art of self-deprecation? Putting ourselves down before others can do it. I am not talking about lowering our self -images by pointing out our faults. I am talking about pointing out the obvious problems with ourselves that we are fully aware of and have no intention of changing. Jack Benny was a master at this. He portrayed a cheapskate. It is well known that in real life he was not but on his TV show he was a staunch cheapskate and damn proud of it. Who can forget the classic scene where he was approached by a mugger and told "You're money of your life!!!!" and there was this long pause.....The mugger repeated himself, "You're money or your...." and he was interrupted by Jack Benny who yelled, "I'm thinking!!!!!" Classic example of self deprecation. Think abou the stand-up comedians, John Pinnette or Ralphie May. These guys are on the hefty side. Okay, they are massive. They both spend most of their routines talking about their enormous girth and yet I have heard people say they don't like these guys because all they talk about is being fat. EXCUSE ME????? What would you like these very funny men to discuss? Yeast infections and the annoying itch that accompanies them? How ridiculously stupid have we become as a society? It is no longer okay to talk about our own problems in a humorous manner? I know why.... We might offend someone. There might be a fat guy in the audience who takes personal offense to John Pinnette bitching about his chafing problems. We are too sensitive!!!! Way too sensitive. We spend so much time worrying about what might offend someone that we have forgotten to take a step back and just enjoy the show. Am I encouraging people to go out and make fun of fat people? No. Do I think it's okay to berate ugly people because they are ugly? Not at all. What we need is for the fat people to accept that they are fat and unless they are going to do something about it, they need to lighten up. I am saying that ugly people need to grow a pair and poke fun at the fact that they are ugly before some 5 year old walks by and starts crying when they look at their face. It happens. We are all different. We all have our short-comings..... Speaking of short-comings, back to the guy in the truck. My hat is off to you Mr. Small Penis-Big Truck guy. You are a Real American Hero in my book. Have a BudLight on me.......