PART I: I know you are!

I got into an "I know you are but what am I" fight with an eleven year old this weekend.  Sure, it was all in jest and it was supposed to be funny, but yeah, I was wayyyyyyy out of her league and she totally kicked my ass.

Essentially, my daughter and her friend wanted me to help them carve a pumpkin.  I was soooo happy that they only wanted my "help!"  This means that I am supposed to do the part that involves the knives, and nothing else; nothing messy!

So, I cut the top of the pumpkin open while they completed their design.  Then they both put on a shirt of mine as to not get their clothes filthy.  They both put their arm in the pumpkin to pull out it's "guts."  They both belted out a resounding "EWWWWWWWW" as if they had never done this exact same thing before. 

Without any words they both pulled their arms out, wiped off with paper towels and started making a fort in the back of my truck with ropes and blankets.  I was left to take care of the uncapped gourd spread out on newspaper in my front yard. 

So I foolishly accused them both of being "cut-open-pumpkin-cleaner-outer-quitters!!" and THAT'S when the "I know you are...." fight was on.  My daughter being the younger of the two opted to let the older child lead in the debate in which each of us knew about the other but had concerns as to what we ourselves are (a.k.a. "I know you are but what am I!"  keep up with me).

This was a wise choice for my kid to make.  I might've stood a chance against her.  I'm still able to successfully pull the Bugs Bunny/ Daffy Duck Wabbit Season/ Duck Seasons Switcheroo on her!  You know, where your kid says "nuh-uh" and then you say "uh-huh" and then they say "nuh-uh" and you say "uh-huh" and then they say "nuh-uh" and you say "nuh-uh"and then they say "uh-huh" giving you the go ahead win!!!! 

Of course, being out of practice for "I know you are" combat, I slipped up and threw in a poorly worded and not well thought out variation by saying "I know you are but what are you?"  The pressure of my error proved to be a great distraction.  At my next volley of words I was able to get it right, but on my final assault, I blew it!  I actually inadvertently threw in the previously mentioned BB/DD WS/DS Switcheroo (shortened version of "Bugs Bunny/ Daffy Duck Wabbit Season/ Duck Seasons Switcheroo" so I don't have to type it out again and oh damn look what I just did anyway....) in and used it against myself! 

I heard the words coming out of my mouth "I know I am...." and started to panic.  I tried to real it back in and correct, but any correction was a trivial compensation for already admitting that I knew I was and there for I had already lost... "I know I am ... but what am I" is what I got out.

The older child's eyes turned to steely eyed slits.  She knew she had won.  I hung my head in shame and walked away to carve the pumpkin, in defeat.  I'm almost certain my standing fell a few notches in my daughter's eyes.  But nonetheless, she was on the winning side.

Of course, this sent me into a deep philosophical self examination whilst I carved the pumpkin in a defeated silence, but that is too much to get into right now.  Yeah this may have to be a two-parter...

Essentially, I do know what I AM in that I exist, but in turn, as a person, as a cognitive being I really do not know if I can properly answer the question "but what am I..."

Oh yeah, to add insult to injury, both girls intermittently hit me with the un-provoked attack of "nuh uh YOU" as they played in their fort.

I'll have the Stress Espresso

Here's how your day starts.

You get to sleep in (on a workday) and you're not going to work.  It's a rare "day off" and you opt to take advantage of it and do absolutely nothing!  You even convince yourself that that is your goal, to do absolutely NOTHING!

This is a good plan for you!  You need this.  It is healthy to simply let your body and mind rest and relax.  As a people we have gotten so far away from relaxing. 

"Way back when, people relaxed all the time" you tell yourself.  "They didn't have all the stresses and stimulation that we have.  They knew how to relax!"

And that's true.  People didn't have to work a 9 to 5, 5 days a week way back when.  They didn't have to worry about school REALLY REALLY way back when when there was not so much to the world.  It was a simpler time.  They didn't have the stresses of their neighbors having better stuff than them or their kids having a better education.  They didn't have to worry about paying bills....  They had it easy back then.

So there you go, you're going to relax from your day to day job that anyone else, with the right education and / or experience, can do.  But you have more experience and you just don't feel appreciated, so dammit!  DAY OFF!

You wake up from your night of peaceful slumber ready to tackle your much deserved day of nothing. 

You turn on the television.

You scroll through the guide because that's the only way you know hot to find something on TV what with all the overwhelming stress inducing channels we have today, that we have to pay for (I might add).

You see the movie The Right Stuff is on and you think to yourself "Awesome!  I love this movie!"  So you watch.  "Wow, these guys are ten years younger than me" you think to yourself.  "Wow, they're really risking everything" you keep thinking.  "Wow, I got that paper cut at work the other day..." you change the channel.

Saving Private Ryan is on.  "Wow.... I had an altercation with a co-worker the other day.... that was a bad day" you think to yourself trying to find a conflict comparable to the Normandy Invasion.  "Huh, these guys are like 15 years younger than me..."  you consider pouring yourself some bourbon at 9 am.  "Man, what an awful way to die" you think about how many paper cuts it would take to feel that bad.

"Okay, but these are people from the modern age... they have the stresses of modern problems..."  You turn on the History Channel.

The narrator reads "the black plague killed millions" you change to the other History channel.  "These people lived off the land" he reads and you think to yourself how simple and how nice and "RELAXING" that would be.  "They risked death at every turn, scrounging for food all day and all night every day, just to survive.  And those who were not nomadic formed an agricultural society farming and raising livestock" the bastard narrator reads on....

"Huh.... well this sucks" you can't help but think to yourself.

Yup, the world has become like stress espresso when you think about it.  What used to be stretched out each day, over the course of a week, every week, every month of every year we now cram into Monday through Friday if we can.  We get more time to relax than anyone before us and more than some of us even now.

There are people out there who work every day of the week non-stop to make our world better.  Offhand I can think of a few careers that guarantee no rest.  You  know like farmers, the military (mostly those deployed) and cruise ship workers just to name a few!  It's non-stop for them all.

So, you think about all of this and almost feel very guilty about your day.  I say "almost" because, you really do need this time and people throughout time always have needed this time.  Why don't you just wipe away that guilt by doing some laundry, walking the dog and going to the grocery store, you know, to "scrounge for food!"  Besides, you need milk.

Ironically, I'd kill to make the espresso a little bit stronger and only have to work four days a week!

I just can't seem to commit.

As I am growing older and re-acquainting myself with living as an individual I am starting to realize that, as already mentioned in the title of this particular post, I just can't seem to commit.  I am having issues with commitment that I never really noticed within myself before.

Let's face it, I just can't seem to stay involved with seeing the same face, or even faces, on even just a weekly, let alone daily, basis.  There are just endless stories and they flow together and drag on day after day, week after week.  And sometimes, they don't flow at all.  From one day to the next, I just don't know what to expect. 

And the Drama!  I don't even know what to do about it.  It just seems like the same thing over and over and over and over again.  I have enough of that at work.  I don't need to come home to more drama day in and day out. 

I just want to laugh! 
I want to smile! 
I want to be carefree and spontaneous. 
I don't want a routine!  And I certainly don't want to be a slave to certain things having to happen at certain times.

Until recently, I've had these pressures in my life for a long and I am simply no longer up for the challenge!

But I do realize that this is my problem.  I am, in some essence within myself, going against what has become the norm.  I am the living embodiment of "It's not you it's me" syndrome when it comes to this.

Of course, I'm talking about following and watching TV shows.  I just can't do it! 

Every network has all of these shows on and they tend to be the same thing over and over again told a different way but the same story.  For the most part, most television programming is brilliant and it's not the shows fault.  It really is me.

I have found that I do not have the patience to watch a TV show on Tuesday at 9 and be left hanging at the end of the episode waiting to find out what happens next Tuesday.  This angers me.  Not only do I spend the next week in anticipation of some astounding revelation but now I know, a week in advance, that I am going to have to be set and ready by exactly 9 PM the following Tuesday to find out what happened.  This is Ludicrous to me!

"Why don't you just DVR it?"  You might ask me?

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST KEEP YOUR THOUGHTS TO YOURSELF!!! THIS IS MY BLOG!!!" I might reply!

But, instead of replying with such an angry tone which would really be my way of saying "you know what, I hadn't thought of that.. what a great suggestion... ain't modern technology grand?"  I will reply in a much more thought out manner as I have thought about doing so and I have lived in an environment where that was done.  It doesn't actually help.

See, the DVR is wonderful.  Yes, you can instantly defeat all commitment issues by just DVR-ing your show and then watching it on your time whenever you want.  But, life is busy and "your time" never really comes.  In fact, should you wish to watch the show, you still have to make time for it.  You still have to commit some portion of your life to watching this show, which, as I have mentioned before is just the filler between commercials.  So really, you're just eking out what little "you time" you have in your day, to watch other people who really want to sell you stuff to keep you occupied during some other part of your day.

So with that, I had a few people in my life (and I know that there are many many others) who would actually get themselves into tears because of all of the shows they had recorded on their DVR that they needed to watch to be "caught up" before the season finale.  Seriously, the season finale might be in two nights, so for the next two nights, they would be all stressed out having to watch their shows as if they were cramming for an exam. 

These are intelligent educated people who are so angry with everything around them because that "everything" is causing them to not be able to watch their show when it originally aired so now they have to watch 8 episodes in two nights.  And they do this with multiple shows!!! 

THAT'S INSANE TO ME!!!  But I still watch TV.

There is one show on television right now that I actually know when it airs and I do DVR it.  However, I only know because another friend is gracious enough to text me each week to remind me.  She knows my deep dark fear of commitment.  And as it is this very day, I have four episodes of this particular show (maybe 6) stored on my DVR for this season alone and I've only seen two of them.  It's a GREAT show... laugh out loud funny!  But I am just too wishy washy to promise myself that I will be seated in front of my television on the night it airs.

So, I watch sports when I see them on.  Or, I'll peruse my movie channels and see what's on but if all else fails, I'll watch the History Channel.  At the very least, in the mornings I may watch the news just to see what the weather is like.  That's about as dedicated as I get when it comes to watching particular shows. 

Of course, I DVR the HELL out of Phineas and Ferb and I like to think I do that for my daughter, although, on occasion, when no one else is looking, I watch it without her.  Honestly, that's the only series I'm truly caught up with.

So, I DVR two shows, but I still can't commit.

I am sad and I am going against my own rule and writing about it.

As I begin typing, I am not entirely certain that I will even publish this one.

I am fine, but others around me are hurting, so I hurt for them and am therefore lost in thought.  Life is like that.

A dear friend of mine passed away this morning.  She fought a very brave fight against cancer.  I am proud of her.  From what I gather, she won the first few rounds but when it came to the final bout, she accepted it.  Of course, she could have continued fighting but that would have meant more suffering for her and her family.  She faced the inevitable and I am of the belief that she left with grace and dignity.

She was once a neighbor of mine but only for a few years.  From what I gathered back then, she was recovering from what I perceive as a terrible end to a marriage.  In the years we were closest, I saw her struggle, I saw her recover and I saw her find peace with a new marriage.   I also got to know her kids, who were closer to my own age than her.  Even with distance, I am certain I will maintain a relationship with them even if it is only to check in every so often.

She was a good person.  Knowing that she would soon be gone, I've recently spent  a lot of time thinking about how much she influenced me in just a few years.  In focusing on just her kindness and comforting nature I realized that she actually impacted my own child, whom I do not believe she ever met, in two ways.

First, and probably most significantly, when my marriage hit a "bump" and looked as though it was over, she talked to me in a very calm nature about not giving up on what you believe in and working through the pain even though you have every right to walk away.  Even with what she had endured, she still believed in marriage and so did I.

Eight years later the end result of my marriage proved to be unavoidable, but at least I knew that I had tried and was always willing to save it, but mostly, four years after we had our "talk(s)" my child was born.  Had I not stayed or tried to save it all, well.....

She also introduced me to something I still share with my daughter today.  She gave me Wallace and Grommit.  Sure it's a children's program and she didn't actually "give" them to me, but more than four years before I became a parent, I fell in love with a show that my child now loves to watch with me.

I had not seen her in years, but I feel a great loss in her passing. 

At the same time, I have an Aunt lying in hospice care expected to die any day.  She is a lovely woman whom I never heard complain or say a disparaging word unless, of course, her dinner was taking too long to be served in a restaurant.  Granted, if she ever did say anything in anger in my presence I would most likely have not understood her. 

She is 80 and was born in Japan in either '31 or '32.  Imagine being a child in that era on the Japanese mainland.  Imagine the hardships she must have endured.  Imagine being a teenager watching a neighboring town go up in an atomic explosion.  How do you find peace?  How do you accept the world?  How do you go on?  Well, you just do.  She just did.

Some time in the 70's she met my Uncle, in Japan, on leave from the Vietnam War.  They fell in love and she came home with him.  Shortly after she became a US citizen in the late 80's, he died.  She stayed in the states. 

I didn't really get to know her too well until the 90's although I had met her and spent some time with her as a child but I was probably more focused on Lego's.  I did go through a phase in the early 80's where I didn't really trust her.  I was sitting in a History class one day when I learned that her people had attacked Pearl Harbor!!!  THEY DID WHAT?  Oooooooooo.....  I was a very offended by this.   Before I was born, my parents and siblings lived in Hawaii!!!  Granted, that was some 28 years after the initial attack, BUT STILL!!!!

Yeah, it was a short lived lack of trust and the panic I felt passed because, you have to let go.  But at least I got to have my moment of drama before I got my world of understanding.

I found her a very enlightening person.  She had her faults but I had a hard time seeing them through the kindness she always showed me.  We had interesting conversations about religion that, although they weren't long, have really given me a better understanding on a grand scale.  She wasn't a Christian (spoken in a whisper) but a lot of her religion was remarkably similar to mine.  From this I took away "truth is truth and peace is peace."  I think that helps me out a lot when I hear people using their religions incorrectly (even my own) to hurt others and pass judgement.

I think as a teen I once asked her to teach me how to fight.  She looked at me and said something like "saw karate kid?"  She taught me nothing.  I asked her to teach me some Japanese. She didn't really teach me much, but I did learn the Japanese words for boyfriend and girlfriend... Boyafrienda and Girlafrienda....  Fabulous!

We laughed a good bit on occasion, mostly due to language barriers.  I was lost in a conversation with her once when I assumed her senility had gotten the best of her and she actually believed she owned two high priced American cars when she was complaining about her problems with her "Cadirax."  She didn't drive.  As it tuns out, when a confused twenty-something in the Southeastern USA hears a Japanese person talk about their Cataracts they assume she is saying Cadillacs.  It turned out that she was quite coherent and I was the fool.  She got better with surgery.

I am touched by and grateful to both my Aunt and my neighbor for their presence in my life as brief as their presence has been.  I know for a fact I have spent less time with my Aunt than I had with my neighbor, but overall I have taken away from them both the example they have set in accepting life's pain and hardships and moving on and living.  I have not been as good at that as I would like to be.

I think that is what life is about.  We try to learn from others.  We share experiences and cherish those memories.  We can live forever in each other and through those whom we pass our experiences on to. 

Others who have spent more time with these people may not have seen in them what I saw.  However, I feel I have been blessed by what limited time I shared with them.

I am of course lost deep in thought about all of this and I am sad.  There are so many others living and thriving who have impacted my life.  Most of them passed through my life in what now seems like a blink of an eye.  It's like the movie "It's a Wonderful Life."  We don't see how we impact others.  We typically don't have the chance to ever know.

I just have to say that there are many people out there, some who have hurt me terribly but most have not, whom I am grateful to for how you have affected my life and molded the person I am still becoming.

Thank you.

I am a Block-head...

I have writer's block.

It's a neat thing to have when your life doesn't rely on being able to write and you only choose to write for no reason.  No seriously!  Granted, any sort of mental block is bad, but I would assume that some sort of arterial block or colonic block or driveway block would be much worse.  But again, only if you aren't relying on your writing to keep you alive.

Okay, I guess it's not "neat" like "oh cool, I have writer's block... ain't it grand?"  But more like "oh bother I have writer's block.  I think I will go to Starbucks and waste away for hours as I try to explain to all whom I might meet my concerns about a dystopin future society that is already presenting itself within the media."  In that sense, writers block makes you feel like an important arteest (real slick type of artist), who is able to make misery trendy!

And when I say it's bad for people who are relying on their writing to keep them alive, It's not like I'm talking about someone who is about to die due to a lack of verbiage.  No no no, I am referring to someone who has "writer" or "author" in their career title.  If you are a writer and you cannot write, you cannot generate income for your livelihood and then Queen Latifah* will come and harass you into writing and killing off Will Ferrell and nobody wants that! 

*That was a reference to one of my most favorite movies.  And honestly, I would TOTALLY want that to happen to me.

Although I guess it would be bad to have writer's block if there was someone holding a gun to your head speaking something at you in a fake yet Hollywood-esque German accent saying "vee hahv vays auf maykeeng you write dee verds on dee papers or vee shoot you unt zee head!  YA!!!"  I've known German's and they almost never talk like that.

But yes, that would be an unpleasant time to have writer's block.  You'd probably have the previously mentioned colonic blockage as well.... or maybe the exact opposite.  I don't know.  I'm sure I never will.

It's not like anything I write is going to compete for a Pulitzer.  And sadly, it doesn't bring in any sort of income.  I just put out this stuff when it comes to mind.  But lately nothing is coming to mind and so I feel like I have nothing to write about.

Oh sure, I could write about any old thing at any old time, but where is the challenge in that.  Not that I got into this for the challenge.  I got into this whole blog writing thing to get stuff out of my head that was taking up space.  However, I feel my theory has backfired.

It turns out my brain works like some folks front yards.  If you burn it down it just comes back thicker and fuller.  So, the more I write, the more I seem to have on my mind.  The harder it is to focus.  The more stuff that wants to escape from my brain hole (no idea what the scientific term for this is) so the more chance it'll all block up on the way out.

And voila... I have NOTHING I can focus on to write about, ergo... Writer's Block!

A Letter to Don and Swampy

They are going to make a movie of Phineas and Ferb!   This excites me more than many of you may know.... errrr... I mean, this excites my daughter more than any of you may ever know!  I'll just have to tell her first before I fully comprehend the level of her excitement!  I just hope that I (she) can wait a year or so before the movie is released in theaters.

As a parent I love the creativity of this show.  This is an ingenious program that really touches a child's imagination.  Also each episode has an entirely new soundtrack which consists of really catchy music.  The creative team on this show is, well, extremely creative!  And, as an adult who is comfortable watching children's programming, it's a really good show for all the same reasons.

It's almost, too good!

Whereas in my childhood my parents were concerned that I might lure someone out into the desert with bird feed and then try to push a boulder off of a cliff in an effort to "take them out," I am curious as to what deviousness the makers of Phineas and Ferb are trying to create within my child.

I wrote a letter to them a few months back to address just that:

Dear Don and "Swampy," (a.k.a. the creators of Phineas and Ferb),

Please stop putting ideas into my daughters head.

In the past few weeks, she has become more and more obsessed with the idea of turning some simple canned meat into "rampagey meatlings" that will do her bidding, destroy her enemies and help her achieve world domination.

I mean seriously, how would that even be possible? Could I simply go down to the Publix, buy some canned meat, introduce it to some sort of inator and voila, MEATLING?

It sounds like too much power for my little girl to control. Yet, it sounds so simple. I mean, I'm sure I could control it! And it would be very beneficial to me to have a rampagey meatling to, you know, do my bidding and destroy my enemies. But, well.... hmmmmmmm......

Dear Don and "Swampy," (a.k.a. the creators of Phineas and Ferb),

Please stop putting your brilliant ideas into my head!

Thank you,

Signed, "Cautiously Interested!"

For those of you who have read this far, should you have no idea what I am talking about, you may wish to count your blessings.... or you may not... I dunno.

What I have learned from the wisdom of They.

They say that if you are standing on a ladder and you fall, don't grab for anything on your way down.  Let yourself fall to the ground as grabbing at everything around you is less likely to stop you and more likely to cause you more bodily harm.

Of course, I've only heard them say this about being on a ladder on the side of a house anywhere from one to three stories tall.  I have never heard if this is the same thought process for being on one of those fire truck ladders 10 stories up or a ladder on top of a television tower or something else very very very tall, but I understand what they are trying to say.

I can't exactly tell you who "they" are other than that they are several different people I have met in my life, including one relative.  So, I guess I lied in that I can tell you who one of the "they" in question is, but, honestly, is it really necessary? 

C'mon, by now, if you keep up with me at all on here, we need to have reached a level of trust where, if I use "They" as a reference, then you must accept that They are experts in their field.  Who They are is moot, just know that I trust them and I accept their advice.

But that, is exactly the point that they were trying to make; "that" being to Accept!  Well, honestly, I think that their point was "if you're falling, let yourself fall and don't grab at stuff that will hurt you or rip off fingers or even arms and stuff." 

Which I, of course, heard as "if you're falling, Accept that you are falling and let yourself go.  It may not be very pleasant when you hit, but you're just going to make things harder for yourself if you fight it all the way down!"

They are pretty wise!

And this is one of the cores of my personal philosophy.  It isn't always easy, but, I have learned that quite often, I have to accept what happens to me and the world around me.  Fighting it just doesn't help me.

It's very peaceful when I can let it happen.

Someone cuts me off in traffic...  I can certainly vow a vengeance upon them and pray for them to suffer some horrible turmoil in their life like, a flat tire, or, death by papercuts, or something like that.... but that does me no good other than getting my blood pressure up.  I can return the favor and speed around and cut them off, but that just makes me as much of an ass as they are...  So, I must accept that it happened and just let it go.  Their foolishness affected 5 seconds of my life and I'm fine.

My daughter is growing up...  I can fight it all I want, but it IS going to happen and she IS going to grow up and become her own person.  So, I can offer her guidance and I can pick her up when she falls, but I have to accept that she is going to grow up and make mistakes.  If I fight it, I'll just push her away.

My dog feels she needs to put a paw on my face at 5:10 am because she thinks I like that (and she is sorely wrong)...  Well I can either react to it, which is all she wants, and get mad at her and get up, or I can accept it and roll over and ignore what she has done.  She may only do it 10 or thirty more times, but eventually she'll stop.  Sure, I could get rid of her but that takes me back to pushing my daughter away. 

Really, getting a pet and then getting rid of a pet can upset a child a whole damn bunch!

So I accept things.  I accept that I have to go to work.  I accept that some people feel the music in their car needs to be heard in every car around them.  I accept that delicious foods tend to be rather quite bad for me.  I accept that I am going to have to walk for at least thirty minutes tomorrow because I ate some delicious food today.  I accept so much.

And those are little things.  In the past few years I have had to accept major traumatic events like the deaths of family and friends and divorces, only one of which was my own but most of them have been for the wrong reasons and they are all sad to witness and live, and THE CUBS which also is often traumatic for the wrong reasons and is always hard to witness and live.... I could go on.

In fact, I think being a Cubs fan is a great thing to be if you wish to grow up with a mindset of acceptance.  Sure, I could pull for another team or I could just bitch about the Cubs, but I find that if I just accept what happens to them every year, this will humble me and encourage me to simply accept what I enjoy as well as what I cannot have.  And if one day they do win the series, I will be thrilled and I will accept that no more goats will need to be sacrificed!

Anyway, I seriously do believe that a path to peace within ones self (aka "inner peace" which is much shorter to type but used way too often) lies within being able to accept the world around you and the things that happen without your influence.  I say influence becuase I am not entirely convinced "control" really exists.

It may sound depressing but we all have our ladders to climb, and we all fall.  Quite often, we are pushed!  How we handle ourselves during the fall may not lessen the blow,  but it will aid in how soon we are able to get back on our feet and start working our way back up that ladder.

I accept what They have to say to me.  I learn so much from the people around me.

But, just for the record, I may accept that that guy cut me off, but that doesn't mean I like it; perhaps, just a few paper cuts?

Let's have a Schrödinger Christmas!

Okay, who thinks just by reading the title that I'm talking about the strong silent piano player that the psychologist from Peanuts was in love with?  Of course he's a great artist and he brings any party or holiday alive when he tickles those ivory keys.  However, No.  You're wrong, that guy is named Schroeder.  I'm not talking about him.

I wish I was talking about him, because his name doesn't have an umlaut.  Although the two dot thingy over the "O" has an amazing history (if you're into that sort of thing) I don't like having to type it.  I'm NOT into that sort of thing.

So, I am talking about Schrödinger. He was an Austrian Physicist (aren't they all) who devised a "Thought Experiment" to point out a problem he had discovered with some other Physicists theory in Quantum Mechanics (obviously NOT Austrians).

All technical mumbo jumbo aside, the thought experiment known as "Schrödinger's Cat" (they weren't overly creative in nicknames for experiments back in 1935) breaks down to putting a cat in a box with stuff that can kill it.  Having no idea when the cat will die and every understanding that the cat will die, we are left to assume that the cat is entangled in a state of being dead an alive at the same time.

This is a depressing concept.  I feel It is a way to annoy people at parties (not fun parties) and try to impress someone at some point.  Knowing this serves no great purpose to me other than to point out how little love there is for cats out there and that dog's are cuter.

And this is why Pavlov was a lot more fun to have at parties!

So, right now you're probably thinking to yourself, "okay, but what does this Schrödinger guy have to do with Christmas other than the joys of just being able to pronounce his name, umlaut and all, may bring?"

To that I might reply something like "good question, but umlauts bring NO JOY!"

So I ask you, what happens to us as we grow up?  Why must we have what we want and not be able to accept just the thought behind what we have received?

Have you ever given a kid a cardboard box with a gift in it?  Half the time these kids are all about that box!  They are excited to see the present and they'll get around to it in a bit, but, "Hot Damn!!! A BOX!!!!"  Eventually, I got the point with my own child that I would just bring home boxes from time to time.  She was THRILLED!!!

It's like being that guy at the party talking about Schrödinger's Cat (in the box).  Whether the cat is alive or not is a moot point.  The whole point of excitement is what might be in the box.  Again, this is the thrill we all feel when we are given a gift.. any gift!  We need to appreciate that more.  The thought is wonderful.  But to a kid, what's more exciting than a box?

Really, these days there's little left to the imagination with many toys.  They are made for one purpose and they are played with for that one thing.  But, A BOX!!!!  A box can be a boat, a fort, a house, a basket, a car, a train, an oven, a television, a box.... it goes on and on and on.  Amazingly enough, you can get a refrigerator box, open up both ends and roll down a hill or across your yard.  YOU'RE A HUMAN TANK!!!!

Oddly enough, I find I save cardboard boxes all the time.  I'm no hoarder, but whenever I get something in the mail, maybe from Amazon or some online vendor, I always save the box until they pile up and I have to throw them out.  I think this is some sort of attachment issue from my childhood.

Anyway, as kids start to grow up, they start to forget the box.  They want the loot.  And many of us maintain that sort of thinking well into adulthood.  Why? 

Is it the whole "I want what I want when I want it" mentality that we seem to be developing as a society?  An instant gratification type thing?

What if we try to start getting away from that and return to our basic need to be appreciated.  I really do believe that the gift is not as important as the thought.  Getting the box is more important than what is inside the box!  Does that make sense? 

As hokey as it sounds, I look at the child like appreciation I see when a kid gets "presents!!!" before they even open them.  It is an exciting concept and thrill to see their minds running wild with "look at all this stuff, what could it be!"  Until they open their gift, the thrill is in not knowing.  The younger they are, the more they appreciate the whatever... as they get older, the content becomes too important.

Right now it's the time of year where I'm hitting what I call "the birthday season" during which, for the next three months the majority of the people I know and love (including me) have their birthdays right before and around Christmas.  There's a lot of gift giving going on.  I want people to know I'm thinking of them and I truly wish I could give more, but I simply cannot.

I hope they appreciate me as much as I appreciate them. 

You know what though, I do have all of those spare boxes.. and, there are a lot of stray cats in my neighborhood.... hmmmm...

I think my Brain is full.

I like to write about the simple moments that make me laugh. I prefer to reminisce about happier unexpected moments in my life.

Recently one of those moments happened and came in the form of the lady I saw who obviously was an obsessive weight lifter with big man arms.  It's not that a woman with muscular and cut arms is not feminine and attractive, but her arms we're right up there with Clubber Lang meat hooks!  And they were attached to a small blond woman's frame.

Anyway, she was walking two dogs; in her right hand she held the leash for the dachshund.  In her left she was holding the leash for a St. Bernard.

I looked at her and laughed.  Only then did I notice that she could easily squash me with her big Clubber Lang arms.  But she was overall petite and she looked at me curiously and did not kill me.

"Do you have to switch hands with them every block or so as to keep one arm from getting bigger than the other?"  I heard myself say in a humorous manner.

She chuckled and said "Oh yes.  Yes, yes I do.  They keep me busy!"

We both chuckled and she kept walking on as I carried groceries into the house.

Even though I stood about a foot or so taller than her, she could have just hammered me into the ground like a spike if she had wanted to.  What the hell was I thinking?

Well, I was thinking that she was a dog person, like me, and that she would see the humor in my comment.  Luckily for me, she did and I am not a little pile of squishy pieces on the sidewalk.

And that's the kind of stuff I want to write about.

Lately I have found it more difficult to stay focused and write about these every day moments I share with friends, family, strangers and people who most likely bought some Clubber Lang bits off of e-bay.  I think that once the school years started I became more focused on my child's homework and became too distracted to write.

It is really tough having to relearn every thing I forgot I learned that I had originally learned so that I could learn the stuff I needed to learn.  Still with me?  Well, neither am I, but that's the kind of thing that's been going through my head lately.

Maybe now you understand why I've been posting less often?  If you do understand, can you please explain it to me?

How Marty, Marvin, Chuck & Johnny brought out the Johnny within me!

I think it's safe to say that we all have a love for music.  Many people find comfort in diverse forms of the art.

I find comfort in what is often referred to as "Classical" music which is somewhat inaccurate as I prefer the Romantic era more than Baroque, but whaddya gonna do; you know what I mean when I say "Classical" even if it was written just yesterday.

In a similar vein (not really in any way) I like Jazz a lot as well.  What with the ad-libbing and free form of the style and the expression.  Mmmmmmmm hmmmmmm.... Add some Blues to that too!

So, I like Classical, Jazz, Blues and I also really like Rock, and Classic Rock, and Pop Rock, and Punk Rock, and Alternative Rock....  "Here a rock there a rock everywhere a rock rock Old MacDonald had a band, rock on Rock and Roll (I just wrote that)!"  It's as if there is an avalanche of rock music (do ya like that?) and I'm open to almost all forms of the genre. 

And hey, Nay sayers may say "nay" now (say that 10 times fast), but I also really like Rap.  Spoken word is one of the most relateable forms of music out there and rap covers so much territory.  I can't say that I relate to all forms of rap, but a lot of it is really impressive to me.

Country.... well, I've really tried to like country and some of it is catchy, but David Allen Coe was my introduction to country music and  for the most part he was right... trucks, mama, being drunk, death and heartbreak... It's mostly sad music to me and makes me feel worse when I am sad.  My God, if Robert Smith (the Cure) and Morissey had started a country band I'm almost certain there would have been enough murder and suicide caused by their collective musical efforts that Pol Pot would have been impressed.

Overall life is good.  Anybody reading this blog or anything on the Internet probably has a better life than the majority of people on the planet.  I'm no statistician or facts checker, but I'm sure that the majority of the planet doesn't have Internet access.  Whereas having access to the Internet does not imply that you are happy or are successful but it does imply that you can afford to have what are called "First World Problems."

Now that is such a big issues to tackle and it isn't what I'm gearing towards in this blog, I'll probably try to get around to that some other time.  The point I'm trying to make is that if you have the daily opportunity to listen to music and check the Internet, you're doing A LOT better than many of the people on the planet who are worried about where they're going to get their next meal.

Sooo, the point I am getting at, is that for the most part, life is good and it can easily be compared to a cheery or heartfelt/ touching piece of music.

This dawned on me on my way in to work this morning as a very simple, yet cheerful, catchy and surprisingly ahead of it's time piece of music came on the radio. 

It is a rock song from the late 50's with a driving blues guitar riff and a repetitive rhythm section.  The lyrics are straight forward and not very deep about a man who goes from rags to riches through the power of music. It still stands the test of time as you can play it for children today and they love it.  It was ahead of it's time because, as simple as it may sound now, it was aggressive and a new use of the blues.

Of course, there is some question as to how the song came about as there is a paradoxical conspiracy about the songs origin.  I can only say for certain that I am personally grateful that Marvin called his cousin Chuck to tell him what Marty McFly was playing and the Enchantment Under the Sea Ball that particular night!

Seen Here, Historical PROOF!!!

Johnny B. Goode is one of the GREATEST rock songs of all time!!!  There, I said it!  And we all have Marty McFly to thank for it!

So, yes, I find it quite inspiring and cheerful to say that my life sometimes is good enough to be compared to the song Johnny B. Goode!  Chuck Berry should be praised and has been many times over for his contribution to Rock Music.  He was ahead of his time and stands the test of time.

So, I think comparing your life to something like that song may be presumptuous of your future greatness.  However, it's not bad to think of that song as a song that fits you and your life.  Johnny B. Goode covers everything as far as feel good music, feel good story, being a trend setter and being ahead of it's time.  This is a great song to hear on the radio and feel it resembles your inner self!

Unfortunately for me, the version on the radio this morning was the Sex Pistols version of Johnny B. Goode.  As much as I like the Sex Pistols, having Johnny Rotten singing his version of Johnny B. Goode as your life's anthem is NOT a good indicator of where you are in life.

I'm just sayin'.



How my childhood beliefs have corrupted with age. A.K.A.- No Santa, Nooooooo!

There were a lot of cute mystical beings that I believed in as a child.  I think these were the adults way to keep me relatively well behaved and just add excitement to relatively humdrum things.

Of course, Santa is the best!   Here's a guy who knows all of my dirty little secrets and he passes judgement on me.  Around the end of the year he brings me presents to reward me for my good behavior.  This is a great tool for parents for the most part.  However, as we all got older, we stopped believing in this character.  I think the first step in it all falling apart is that we suddenly realise that we've been really crappy kids all year long and yet, we're still getting loot!!!

But where we, as new found grown ups who no longer believe in Santa, pay for our crimes against the world is when Santa is replaced by another mystical character.  There is another being who, as adults we understand is the physical representation of the organization that now knows all of our dirty secrets and passes judgement on all of us whether we've been bad or good, but it mostly seems like he passes judgement on those who are good and struggling.  Of course I mean The Taxman.

He keeps a list, and I think I he probably checks it more than twice.  He doesn't need to find out, as he already knows and simply doesn't care who's naughty or nice.  He just comes to town and nails us all whenever he can.  I picture him in a suit similar to Santa's, but it is grey pinstripes and it's made of baby seal fur.  And he has a monocle. 

Well, we also had The Easter Bunny.  As a kid this is a rabbit who brings kids chocolate and small gifts and quite often nice clothes for children to wear to church on a Christian Holiday.  I'm sorry?  Were there a lot of rabbits at the crucifixion?  They seem to be missing from all of the pictures that were taken that day.  Not to be blasphemous, but I'm almost certain that had there been a bunch of cute bunnies bouncing all over the place, they really would have lightened the mood and the judging mass probably would have not been in such haste to pass judgement as they would've been happily playing with all the cute bunnies!

But no, as we grow up we learn that the rabbit is a pagan representation of procreation along with chocolate eggs and that these were just thrown in to combine a pagan festival with a Christian holiday or mourning and celebration.

Now, I am absolutely no biblical scholar by any means, but growing up and learning about the bunnies and how they have nothing to do with Easter yet have become the most commercially celebrated part, much like Santa vs. The Birth, is kind of a painful part of growing up. 

So really, again, whereas Santa pretty much becomes just the opposite as the tax man for grown ups, I'm going to have to say that the Easter Bunny pretty much became the fairy for any and all marketing campaigns out there.  The Cadburry Bunny is what has the Easter Bunny has become.  As I grew up to know that there is no Easter Bunny, the Bunny simply evolved to become a marketing whiz. 

I can just see him in between takes for those chocolate egg commercials.  He probably hops out of a limo fueled by the tears of babies, walks into the studio and removes his three piece bunny suit (made from more seal pup fur) and says in a thick scratchy Brooklyn Accent as he hands his stogy to his assistant :

"C'man, less dooo this.  I don'd gad all day yeah.  I do a few clucks I make a few bucks. 

Whaddya gonna do eh..."

Heartless marketing bunny.

So I also believed in the tooth fairy.  Here is a loving fairy with an enamel fetish that collects your dead teeth for cash.  HOW AWESOME IS THAT we all thought as kids!  We endure a gross by product of growing up and make a buck without having to cluck for the camera!  SWEET!!!

Then we grow up and there become a lot more fairies for dealing with aspects of growing up, but these fairies don't pay us a damn dime for our suffering:

• The Zit Fairy who turns our faces in a general plague area
• The Low Metabolism Fairy who helps us start to fatten up some time after 27
• The Presbyopia Fairy who makes your vision poor and if you are truly cursed she'll leave under your pillow a life altering secret written out in a note, that only you can read,that is written so small you'll NEVER be able to focus on it.
• The Hairclub Fairy who takes the hair from your head and relocates it to your ears as well as in a path traveling down your back

THESE FAIRIES SUCK!!!

Now much like the Easter Bunny really did exist but turned out to be a marketing rouse, I do believe that one fairy truly does exist but his message becomes hurtful with age. 

Cupid is magical.  The way he sneaks up on you and shoots you with an arrow.  Most people would get life for such a thing, but nope, not cupid!  As a kid just by standing next to someone you might be in love with them for a whole day or so.  It happens all the time.  Sometimes is happens 6 or 7 times an hour.  Cupid's great!  And Valentines Day has really become a celebration of his goodness... or at least it had...

As you grow up, cupid is still there, but his affects wear off on some people and not so much on others.  Some of us still fall in love six or seven times an hour and others can't seem to accept love.  And then Valentine's day simply becomes a reminder of either something you have to do or a grim reminder of what you do not have.

Cupid, you're aim may just might be getting bad with age; our age, not yours.

So, there, I'm being all negative and grumpy about how cruel the fairies are for either not existing or for transforming along with us in age. 

Sometimes reality is just unfair.

At least I'll always have The Great Pumpkin!!!

My MANLY Secret

I was in the fifth grade the last time I switched schools mid-year.  This happened to me a lot growing up.  Apparently the US Navy felt that transferring sailors during the school year helped their kids build character.  I'm CHOCK FULL of character.

Anyway, I remember walking into my new class for the first time and hearing those unforgettable words that I had heard so many times before:

"okay everybody, we have a new student in the class today, his name is....."  MUD

They all stared at me as if I had a target on my head; the new classmates always did.  Except that this time, something was different.  There was one guy who stuck out.  Even now as I try to remember the moment, every one's face is blurry except for this one guy.

He wasn't a huge guy and as I recall, he wasn't even looking at me.  His eyes were Clint Eastwood squinty, but it wasn't an ethnic thing; He might've been somewhat Latino.  He was a bit tan and had on a red t-shirt.  He had short jet black hair and pretty much looked like any other fifth grader, that is, other than the mustache and soul patch.  I kid you not!  This guy had facial hair... IN THE FIFTH GRADE!!!!

Now there is a chance that I may be exaggerating a bit.  It's not intentional, it's just how I remember him.  We were in school together for many years and that is just how he always looked.  He lived right down the road from me and he was the first kid from my age group to grow facial hair.  He had beaten all of us by years!  That is NO exaggeration.

As I recall, he was one of the nicest guys I went to school with.  I do not remember him ever getting in a fight and I don't recall him ever being in trouble.  He was very quiet in my experience.  We weren't friends as in we never socialized, but we were far from enemies. 

But everyone was afraid of him.

He had a reputation as being "dangerous" and "tough."  As best as I can tell, this was based solely on the fact that he had facial hair, I'm assuming, since birth.

I sooooo wanted to grow facial hair as fast as possible.  I could not.  I'm pretty sure I blamed my parents for this.  I had heard that if I started shaving, I would start growing hair uncontrollably.  Of course, in that line of thinking I then though I would grow enough facial hair to be "dangerous" and "tough" like that guy.

Years went by.... nothing.  No scruff... no fir... No fuzz...

I think I was in the 9th grade on the "day of wonderness and awe."  Dad collected me from the dining room table after dinner and I'm almost certain he said something like:

"Son, come with me.  You're a man now and now you must do manly things!!!" 

Then he took me to the bathroom and taught me how to shave my face!!!  A choir of angels sung out in praise.  They were either singing praise or they were just standing by to collect me due to all the blood loss.  Seriously, I cut myself up pretty bad.

Dad also took this opportunity to show me how to use deodorant.  I assumed that this wasn't because I smelled bad, but because he wanted me to smell good so that I could attract a mate!!!  I was wrong.  It was totally because I smelled bad.

BUT I DIDN'T CARE!!!!  I was a MAN now!  The only way it could have gone batter was if afterwards Dad had taken me out back and said something like:

"Now I'm going to teach you how to grill a t-bone

and tomorrow I'm going to teach you how to grill a t-bone using only dynamite!!!"

He did not say that.  In fact, he pretty much taught me how to shave in one direction and give myself serious razor burns and nicks (no offense to guys names "nick").  It wasn't until my first senior year in college (yes I said first) that I had a girlfriend encourage me to shave closer because my scruffiness was irritating her skin.

About 4 years after that I kind of got lazy and started growing a Van Dyke which is the goatee and mustache combo that people often just call a goatee.  They are incorrect as the goatee is just the hairs on your chinny chin chin.  So I have now had a quite stylish Van Dyke on my face for 17 years.  Okay, it was stylish back then. Now I have it mainly because I fear my chin and upper lip will seize up from hypothermia if I remove their blanket of masculinity!  Granted, I also worry that with my boyish face, I'll look like a twelve year old if I shave it all off.

So, bacl to that magical day, all those years ago: I walked out of the bathroom, with my Dad, feeling all regal and proud and manly!  My face was covered in tissue chunks, my face was shiny with razor burn and my armpits reeked of secksie!

I looked at my Mom as my smile beamed from ear to ear.  She smiled at me and said Wow!"

Dad then said "now don't go rushing off to school and tell all of your friends about this.  This is a personal thing."  What made him think I would tell?

So, Ladies and Gentlemen, today, at this very moment, in this very blog, I am going to tell you, the reader, the deep secret that I held in and so wanted to share that very next day roughly 24 years ago:

"DUDES!  CHECK ME OUT!!! I SHAVED!!! AND HERE, SMELL MY PITS... I'M USING DEODORANT NOW TOO!!!!"

We're just big dogs that talk!

I don't think I believe in re-incarnation, but sometimes it's fun to think about.  Should the opportunity present itself to me, I'll try my best let you know if that happens; hopefully no time soon.

If it does happen, I think I'd like to be a dog.  Of course, I want to be a dog that grows up in happy carefree loving, dog friendly, my house is your house type of dog home like my current house.  Seriously, I think my dog won the puppy lottery sometimes.  I'm THAT loving!!!

Anyway, It is quite possible that, in a past life I was, or in my next life I will be, or in my current life, I am a dog.

I don't mean "Dog" as in the whole "Girlfriend, that BOY is a DEEE-OHHH-GEEE DAWG!!!" type of way, but more in the actual "furry creature that just wants love, affection, food and attention," type of way.

First off, I would LOVE to be able to just sleep anywhere at anytime and have it be perfectly fine and healthy for me to do so.  This is actually some portion of my definition of Heaven.  Granted, it is also a portion of the definition of "homelessness" too, so I must clarify. 

I would LOVE to be able to just sleep anywhere I wish in my house at anytime,  and quite often, I do.  When this happens, I call it "the weekend" or a "sick day (nudge nudge wink wink)." 

My dog will play play play and play and then drop wherever she is and sleep.  It may be in the front yard, the bathroom, the bedroom, on my bed, on my daughters bed, on my futon, on the kitchen floor, on my dining room floor, on my couch... I get her off the couch when I catch her, but she is cunning and moves before I bust her.  She does leave a remarkably warm dog shaped dent in the couch that I try to use as evidence, but she does not understand the evidence against her and plays stupid in a very cute and acceptable way!

I wish I could play play play play and when I am told to stop, or I get in trouble for doing so (because I should be working, or keeping my eyes on the road...) I wish I could just play stupid in a cute and acceptable way.  I've tried this.  Nobody seems to think it's very cute and I get tired too easily but that leads me back to wanting to sleep anywhere.  Of course after sleeping too much I have to get up to go to the bathroom.

I wish I could go to the bathroom anywhere I wanted too!!!  I kind of "can" go to the bathroom wherever I want, but it is very much socially unacceptable.  My dog can go wherever she wants and as long as I am willing to clean up the cleanupable stuff, no one complains.  But if I pee on one neighbors car tire, suddenly I'm "not welcome over here anymore!!!'' Jerks!

I would love to be groomed and pet ALL THE TIME!!!  Seriously, I wait a long time between haircuts so my hair gets thick and long.  That way, when I go to the "groomer" they have to take longer.  They get a little unnerved when my leg keeps twitching but if they take long enough, it'll be reflected in their tip! 

My dog wants to be pet all the time!  Well, so do I dammit!  My dog can just walk up to anyone, rub up against them and BOOM, they'll start petting her.  Well, when I tried that....  you know what, I'm actually not supposed to talk about that...

Moving on...

There are just so many aspects to a dog's life that are just wonderful.  I could totally handle eating the same thing every day, as long as it was pizza or steak for breakfast and dinner.  And I wouldn't get in trouble for cleaning the bone on a t-bone or a pork chop.  I get stared at a lot in restaurants when I'm eating a t-bone or a pork chop.  I'm not proud....

Now I haven't just come up with this belief myself.  No, I think this was generated within myself by the many comparisons and other treatments I have received from women in my life.  Honestly, I've never been called a dog by any woman I've known (to my face at least) but when I've done good, or seem distracted, or seem sad, many of them pretty much give me a treat and pet me.  I'm totally fine with this!!!!

I really think women mostly see me and many of my people as big talking animals whom they wish to fatten up for the kill!!!  Again, totally fine with this!!!

Yup, a stress free dog's life sounds perfect to me.  I just don't know how I feel about the whole "being neutered" thing....

I need to rethink this.

The "Unchained" beast within...

This morning I woke up with the Lionel Richie song "All Night Long" stuck in my head.  I wish I could say it was the song on the radio station when my clock radio alarm turned on, but alas, no.  I woke up to no such alarm.  No, I woke up thirty or so minutes before my alarm to a lovely dog playing what I can only guess was the drum beats for the song "Wipe Out" on my chest; I believe she was actually playing the FAT BOYS version.

But the dog is not the story here.

I don't mind the song "All Night Long" but I don't ever hear that song.  Why it was on my mind I may never know.  "Everyone you meet, they're jammin' in the street, All Night Long..."  All. Morning. Long....

I liken having this song stuck in my head to when I used to have "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" stuck in my head way back in '84.  I was in the 9th grade and that song was the song that the local Top 40 station, (which was the only station I could get) would play at the exact same time every morning which was the exact same time that my alarm clock would go off on school days. 

Surely we all remember how I feel about TOP 40 RADIO!!!  I might have implied back then that I liked some of the Top 40 of my day, but not so much when it came to the songs that got stuck in my head and haunted me.  I've just recently learned, from Pandora Radio, that I liked what is called "80's Alternative" for the most part.... hmmmm....

Well, I also liked 80's ROCK AND FREAKIN' ROLL!!!!

So, with my head stuck in 1984 and my dog tormenting me for a walk I decided I would kill two birds with one stone!!!  Actually I was going to DEMOLISH one bird with the stone, that bird being the song "All Night Long" stuck in my head, and the other bird would be spared because that bird was really my dog and I would like her to live, so I just took her for a walk!

Anyway, I decided to take the dog for a walk at 5:45 am and felt that some good old fashioned 80's Rock n Roll would be the tunes I would listen to for my walk.  I thought to myself, "self, what better way to erase a pop hit from '84 (although it was released in'83 "All Night Long" didn't start tormenting me until '84) from my head than to listen to some rock and roll that I listened to A LOT in 1984!"

So I loaded a Van Halen album on my phone... yup, I'm sure you know which one...

FAIR WARNING!!! 

At 5:45 am. walking in the dark, with your Golden Retriever wearing a pink collar with a matching leash, Fair Warning really helps get you going and balance out your badass level.  I don't typically concern myself with my level of badassery... I am of the belief that those days are long gone.  I am too old (not that I'm old) and too tired (I am sleepy a lot of the time) to really care about what anyone thinks about my bad self.  I am also pretty humbled most of the time.  I don't have time to be a badass... just a Dad! 

However, when you're walking your dog at 5:45 am, in the dark, using pink doggie control stuff and singing "All Night Long" you may, and should, have a badassery dilemma within yourself.  "All Night Long" just doesn't help.

So, Van Halen, FAIR WARNING, it is!  Stepping out of your driveway and walking out into the dark with the first track "Mean Streets" playing really gets you feeling intense.  Ready to be a COMPLETE badass... walking your dog. 

The second track "Dirty Movies" is a lot more mellow but still gives you an overall feeling of awesomeness!  It's unavoidable.

Tracks 3 and 4 really keep you going with a sense of how cool you are.  "Sinner's Swing" and "Hear About it Later" just add to the energy within you as yet another ingredient thus far added to the mix of "badassery cake" you have become listening to this album... whilst walking your dog.

But, by the time you get to track five, there is an aura of badassedness that is consuming you.  You lose yourself in the moment as soon as you hear the first few notes on Eddie's guitar grinding out the opening riff to "Unchained!"  As Dave shouts out "ALRIGHT" and Alex and Michael bring in the rhythm it is so easy to get lost in the intensity of the song...

Only 21 seconds in, when Dave has just finished screeching out "ahhhhh hah hah hahhh" you are exploding within trying to contain the outpouring, dare I say "unchained," badass that you have become!  Even your dog can see it as she slowly tries to inch further away from you.

As you are lost in the intensity of the combination of each performer, you can see them, in your minds eye, right in front of you... Dave doing his high kicks, Eddie jumping up kicking both legs out front and back all the while tearing away at his strings, Alex wearing sunglasses and looking angry as he pounds away at his drum set and Michael, just standing there smiling.

It is important to note that, at times, life is like a deck of cards and as excited as you are to add more of the stack to the tower you make of yourself, it can all come crumbling down in an instant.

Listening to this song in private, or with a group of your "bro's" it is okay to play your air guitar in a badassery bond session.  However, at 6:02 am (as you are now over 17 minutes into the album), in the dark, walking a golden retriever wearing a pink collar with a matching leash, in a public park, with other people around, you should in fact NOT play your air guitar. 

Sadly, this morning, I did. 

I also added the occasional David Lee Roth signature "leg kick straight up in the air" (although I can't kick that high) along with the equally thrilling signature Eddie Van Halen "jump up and kick one leg out forward and the other backward all the while playing your air guitar and holding a dog leash" maneuver as I walked my dog in the park.

Not one person in the park knew what was going on.  I can only imagine what they thought seeing me as a silhouette walking my dog off in the distance, suddenly kicking my legs about and jumping in the air screaming "ahhhhh hah hah hahh."

No one would make eye contact with me after that moment. 

No one held out a lighter and shouted "more." 

I was broken.  I had NO badass mojo within me.  I was just a guy, walking his dog, with the pink stuff, now in the glow of pre-sunrise, ostracized by my "peers."

Coincidentally, that's when the sad slower sixth song on the album "Push Comes to Shove" came on.  It is as if Van Halen knew when they originally recorded this album that by the time you got to the sixth track you would have made such a fool of yourself you would need that song to comfort your foolishness.

As I was finishing up my last lap around the park I caught up to one of my witnesses.  He looked at me, almost nervous.  So I spoke.

"Watch out for those squirrels over there.  THEY ARE NUTS!!!  I had to jump away from one and scream at it a little while ago."

That seemed to calm his nerves. 

I added to his comfort by making myself appear absolutely nonthreatening and I walked away singing "All Night Long (ALL NIGHT)."

Chihuahua Loan Shark

I'm too tired to write so much today.  So, I'll keep it short.  At the very least you can understand where I'm coming from.

It was beautiful and cool outside this morning. The orange and pink rays of sunlight breaking over the horizon were radiating through the blue sky dotted with cirrus clouds drifting on the breeze. It was perfect for an early morning walk around the park.

About halfway into my walk, the strangest thing happened. A giant dog paw came down from the sky and started smacking me in the face. It was as though I was late in paying some loan shark the money I owed and his big giant dog had come to collect; so much violence for such a beautiful scene.

I kept closing my eyes hoping that the paw would simply go away but it would not.

I quickly shut and opened my eyes one last time when I realized that I was still in bed.

It was at that moment I also realized that my dog is not only a shylock, but she is also convinced that she is a chihuahua and standing on my face is an appropriate way to wake me up.

She is soooo very much wrong on both counts.

I am guessing that this was the dog's way of telling me that we weren't actually walking as she would really really like us to be.

So much for "sleeping in" today.  We just walked for 45 minutes....

Ahhhhhh, the change of seasons are so wonderful!

Ahhhhhhh... the days are getting shorter... the nights are getting longer... the world is a little cooler... there's a breeze in the air....

It'll be fall in just a day... how nice....

Seriously, I am so stoked about this!

I do like the summer, except for all the heat.  Heat sucks!  I must admit that this past summer was my first "Seattle Summer" in that it rained nearly every day.  I've spent time in Seattle.  It has NEVER rained any day I've been in the Pacific Northwest.  I am almost convinced that all the folks up there just make up the "oh it rains all the time" story to keep the rest of us away.  GREEDY!!!

So yeah, it rained a lot here this past summer.  But it was still very much warm. So my yard was very lush but I had to mow it more which meant more time in the damned heat!  It also meant opening myself up to mosquito bites.

LOT'S OF EM"!!!

We had an "outbreak" of West Nile Virus around here.  A friend of mine even contracted it.  From what I understand he's okay.  With all the bites I got, I think I am immune.  I am not certain but some days I swore I just knew:

"Hmmmmmm.... I don't want to go to work today.  Ah well, must be West Nile."

But my body fought it off and although I felt sickly and itchy, I made it to work.   Damn my work ethic.

I live in the Southeast of the US.  We have very hot summers with little rain and very cold winters with no snow.  By "very hot" I mean that we break the 100's quite frequently.  I cannot believe people used to live here without AC.  Granted, as I've said before, if you didn't know you were missing it, then you didn't really miss it.  But I bet you sure as hell appreciated it when you got it (AC).

But we had a mild wet summer here this year what with all the rain.  However, again, the mosquitos were the worst part.

And when I say we get "very cold" here I'm kind of joking.  I mean it is cold but, well I spent a significant part of my childhood in Chicago.  School NEVER closed there in the winter.  It never got TOO cold or snowy for school and it was in the negative below zero mark plenty of the time.  I don't think we hit negative anything very often, if at all, where I live now.  We get to the teens often and the less than ten rarely, but those are few and far between.

Everyone runs out and buys milk and bread when that happens.  I never understood that.  You'll hear the weather man say "It's gonna be in the low teens tonight so..." and then WHOOSH all of your neighbors head to the store to buy milk and bread.  WHY?  Cocoa, firewood, matches, marshmallows... I can see those as "whoo hoo it's cold" type groceries but milk and bread?  I don't know.  I think people get that because they're sure we're going to die and they want that as their last meal?  No, that can't be right.

Anyway, last winter, there were no rushes on milk and bread.  It had to be the warmest winter I've spent in the south.  It was awful... I had only ONE fire in my fireplace and that was premature.  It hit 40 one night early on in the fall and I got all excited and started a fire.  Then I had to open my windows and doors because it was so damn hot in my house.

The news has said that part of the reason for all of the mosquitos this summer was because of the mild winter and all the rain this summer.

One of the things I like best about the cooler weather is that I can wear more layers of clothing.  I never got over the whole grunge look I guess.  I always liked all of the layers.  Not that I am "grunge" anymore.  But I still like layers.  I wear undershirts year round... just the shirts... year round...

In the summer you can't take off enough to be cool.  And if you could, the mosquitoes would just get you in places you never dreamed possible; sounds awful.  Oh yeah, and you might get arrested too.

So, the fall will be here tomorrow and soon it will be cold enough to kill off the damned mosquitoes.

I hope I can hear them screaming in little mosquito agony as they freeze outside my window, begging me to let them come in for a nice warm cup of my blood... DIE MOSQUITOES DIE!!! I WANT MY BLOOD!!!! YOU DIE!!!!

Wow, this one took an odd turn.

Ohhhhh Dream Weaver....What the hell were you thinking?

I have heard it said that "dreams are the windows to our souls," and sometimes I can believe that. 

Of course, sometimes, I am concerned that my soul may burn in a pit of hell fire with some of the dreams I have, because, you know... they can be kinda dirty...  or angry.  But angry/ vengeful dreams are rare.

Most of the times, I have really happy dreams about stress free livin', so, you know, those are fantasy dreams!

Often I dream of spending time with my child and just having wonderful moments.  But those dreams can make me sad because I start to get distracted by the time I don't get with her.   But sad dreams are few and far between.

Sometimes I have dreams that are sooooo dull that I wake up bored.  Seriously, I had one dream of me sitting at a small table in a kitchen (not my kitchen).  I was wearing a white tank top and pj bottoms, just sitting at the table hunched over reading the paper while I smoked a cigarette and drank my coffee.  The kitchen was black and white and so was my dream.  I was watching myself in my dream and it had a whole "film noire" black and white type feel to it.  Because I was watching myself, I couldn't even tell you what I was reading on the paper.   IT WAS SOOOO BORING... I DON'T SMOKE!!!! 

So I woke up, got out of bed and read some stuff online.

Overall, I am fascinated by the messages that I am able to discover within my soul from tapping into my subconscious mind.  However, for the most part, what I take away from my dreams is that:

• I really love my little girl
• I wish I had superpowers
• all of them
• I would prefer to win the lottery
• I really like women
• I want absolute revenge on all my mortal enemies
• and the immortal ones too
• I'm sad sometimes
• I want to dive more often
• I want to work on more Calrec audio consoles
• Seriously, I really like women....

And for the most part, that's it.

So a few nights ago, this is what I dreamed.....
This is the point where you say "wheedlie wheedlie wheedlie" a few times and wiggle your hands next to your head whilst everything you look at gets all wavy-like...

It was a quiet fall afternoon.

I went for a walk and wandered off, about two miles east from my house. 

I found myself standing outside of a friends house.  I decided to go to their front door.  It was cracked open, so I walked in.

I surveyed the house.  Everything was fine, but no one was home.  Their television was on in the downstairs living room.  It was football; college, football.  

I stared at the television and decided to wait.  However, even though I was staring at the television, I couldn't see what teams we're playing.  I could only hear the audio.

What I could see was laundry sitting out.  So, I decided to fold it. 

I started folding the laundry on their bed, but, they don't have a bed in their downstairs living room.  As I was folding the laundry, I noticed that I was folding underwear that was MUCH too big for anyone who lived in this house.  

Maybe I was in the wrong house?

I decided to leave and as I walked out the front door I could see another door on the front of the house closing as someone walked in.  I looked back.  It was the right house.

I decided to walk back home.

That night I took my date to a party.  The person who's house I went to during the day was there. 

He and his wife were very excitedly telling everyone that someone had broken into their house and folded their laundry that afternoon.

I woke up.

WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO TAKE AWAY FROM THAT DREAM?!?!?!

I really have no clue.

I got out of bed and started a load of laundry.  Then I read stuff online. 

The Cookie Minions

Recently, whilst doing my best to fight off an awful craving, I had an epiphany!  A thought entered my mind and I was finally able to figure out a grand conspiracy that has been pulled over on all of us!

I am convinced that there was once an elf who's only goal in life was to be one of the Keebler Elves. He served as an apprentice for years learning the trade and baking the best cookies. All he wanted to was to bring joy to the masses through his cookies made with love.

But, as always happens in the corporate world, not every apprentice could become one of THE Keebler Elves. A choice had to be made.

It was down to our elf in question, who I imagine had a cute little elf name like “Scout” and one other Elf who I'm sure was a really popular jerk named something like “Biff.” Scout and Biff had one final cook off and I'd be willing to bet that Biff put some alum (just like in the Roadrunner/ Coyote cartoons) into Scout's flour.

When the baking was done, Scout's cookies were awful and Biff won the job.

Scout was destroyed and lost his dream. He spent many years listless and broken begginr for justice only to vow revenge!  Evil eventually corrupted his soul and victory over Biff an Keebler became his ultimate goal (oh cool that kinda rhymes). Scout's new purpose in life became domination of the cookie industry and proving to those damned Keebler folks that he IS better than them!

Scout devised a plan.

Slowly he built his empire and his eventual domination was in full swing. He started with a few recipes but did not have the cash flow to distribute. That is where his evil ingenuity truly shined. Scout didn't have to pay distributors to sell his cookies. He would have no stores for overhead. He would start an "organization!!!”

This is the part where in your head, you sing a dramatic “DAH DAH DAHHHHHH...”

He would convince parents around the world to get their daughters to join a "club." In doing so, these parents would pay HIM for the honor of selling and distributing his cookies only ONCE every year. And his business would thrive!!!!! These Girls would simply stare into the eyes of and guilt any adult into buying Scout's precious cookies.

They could not be stopped!

I imagine that at this very moment, Scout, in a three piece tailored suit, is sitting in a large 100^th floor office, behind a desk made from Keebler's tree, rolling his fingertips together repeating “Good.... Goooood” in an evil tone as he watches video of his agents doing his bidding on a monitor bank in front of him.

Well, HAH SCOUT!!!! I only bought 7 boxes of your cookies from 4 of your agents last year. This year I will probably, almost certainly, only buy 6!!!! I'll show you!!!!

But, ummmmm, purely hypothetical here, if my little girl works for you, do I get a discount?

My Life in Television: As it turns out, I still play with toys.

"There is an every day product that is most likely in your house that can kill you and your family right now, without warning... we'll tell you about that and much more coming up during our hour long newscast... stay tuned!"

I worked in local television news for thirteen years of my career.  I am a behind the scenes guy.  Should you ever see me on the news, it's probably because I robbed a bank... because local television doesn't always pay so well.  I'm kidding... I won't rob a bank...

I specialize in audio.  When I told my Mom what I did, she sent me this.
I come by my sense of humor honestly.

In television I have met some of the most amazing, generous, emotional and colorful people I could have ever imagined, outside of theater life.

When I was in school, a professor once asked our class, "What are television stations on the air for?"

We all knew this was a noble purpose.  We all knew we could easily find the right answer.  We all were wrong...

"To keep people informed"

"To serve the community"

"To protect our community"

"To keep the government in check"

"To report the news!"

The list went on.  Every member of the class tried to out do each other with the pure nobility that is working in the news.

Please keep in mind that I am not knocking on news.  I have much respect for the people who work in news.  Many of my friends still do so and there are times I often miss it.  Live television is a rush and a challenge, and being a part of a team that can reach your community with an important message can really ignite a spark within you.  Granted, I'm sure there are people that feel that way about working in fast food.   Seriously, click on this link.  There is a career out there for every one to feel passionate about.

But what our professor told us about that day was a rude awakening...  however, it was very much true.

" You have it all backwards.  Television stations are on the air to televise commercials.  TV stations are on the air to make money!  All of the shows you watch, including The Cosby Show (this was a long time ago) and even the news are the filler between the commercials!  Commercials make money!"

"HOLY CRAP.... TV is a Business" we all thought to ourselves?  It is.

So, when you watch the news, they want to keep you watching.  They need you to see the commercials.  It's a fair trade.  Really, you are staying informed and the news is staying on the air.  But the term commonly used, in the business, is that news can become "infotainment!"

After 13 years in local news, I left and made the step into commercial production.  It's a lot of fun and a completely different challenge and it's more closely affiliated with the core purpose of television; making money.  I didn't necessarily wish to leave the news game as I really did love it, but commercial production gave me more of a creative outlet and was more conducive to my home life and time with my daughter.  She is, quite often, my driving force.  Big surprise there, huh?

But I still have the bug for live television.  I still love the challenge and the thrill.

So now, I freelance in sports production.  It is wonderful!  I wish I could do it more often but I am sort of a "weekend warrior" in the field.  As well as the previously mentioned "challenge," the camaraderie is wonderful!

Depending on the scale of the show, everyone shows up on site for a broadcast either a day, a few days or just six hours before broadcast, or "air."  Whether there are 20 or 100 members on the crew, everyone knows their role for the broadcast and their place in the hierarchy.  Each member is focused on their job and typically they do this very professionally!  We work together as a team and we usually work together quite well.

I have a lot of respect for most of the people I work with.  Inside jokingly (I think I just made that up), I mostly respect the audio people.  I am an audio people and we are seriously outnumbered on these shows... we have to stick together!!!!  But overall, we all get along well, doing our respective jobs.

Quite often these are ten hour work days.  We spend the six hours before the broadcast setting up our equipment and making sure everything works.  We spend the first few minutes of the broadcast on the air hoping nothing broke since you last checked it.

Being on the air is the easy part.

And then we spend a few hours after the show putting everything away.  I love these shows and I love these days.  And in all seriousness, I would never sit back with my feet up on a console during a broadcast.

I walk away from these shows with a real sense of accomplishment having aired a live program that was very challenging/ exciting, that was aired to very much keep you entertained while not even hiding the fact that it is making money, without any pre-determined outcome.  It's very fulfilling.

So.... this past weekend I televised a women's soccer match (yes yes yes..." football" for the non-American readers out there... I have no idea why we don't call it football here.  The name seems very accurate for this particular sport. Moving on...)

I had told my daughter that the game would be over by 4.  It was over by 4:05.  At five she called me from home very upset.  "Daddy... why aren't you home now?  You said the game would end an hour ago?!?!?"

Of course I explained to her that I would be home soon and that we were all working very hard to clean up everything we were using to put the show on the air.

She took in what I said and replied with "So, you've been playing with your friends all day and now you have to clean up your room and put away all of your toys?"

With a tear in my eye and a smile I could not hold back, I simply replied "yes dear.. exactly!"  I was home within the hour.

See what I've done here? 

I typed this terribly long story about how serious I am about my career and how much I understand and appreciate every aspect of it only to really tell you how sweet my kid is and how wonderful a child's perspective can truly be!