tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64888293847088194502024-02-18T20:44:43.461-05:00Get Off My LawnCourtesy of the ranting voices in my head..end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.comBlogger62125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-15671200543538739702011-06-17T09:57:00.000-04:002011-06-17T09:57:51.005-04:00Oh Dave, You So Funny!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I never do this. I never snag web material for my readers, but this is too good to pass up. Dave Grohl and The Foo Fighters are notorious for their concert riders. A rider is an attachment to their contract for their shows, and it details their needs for the back stage areas and meals, and snacks and things of that sort.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Once again, they have out done themselves. Please read this, and recognize the humor intended. If you don't like The Foo Fighters, you will after realizing how incredibly hilarious they are.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span><br />
<a href="http://rss.thesmokinggun.com/file/foo-fighters-rider-11"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">http://rss.thesmokinggun.com/file/foo-fighters-rider-11</span></a>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-35626311397320235702011-06-14T12:29:00.000-04:002011-06-14T12:29:24.762-04:00Your Band Sucks<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.020817693090066314" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lemme drop some knowledge on you kids. Your Band Sucks. Also, Your Favorite Band Sucks. In fact, ALL BANDS SUCK.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let me explain to you numbskulls why I’m right.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You see, back in the dark ages of rawk, there we people who played INSTRUMENTS. They are things like guitars, pianos, violins, saxophones, trumpets, and basses. Drums? Well, I think most musicians argue over whether or not drummers are musicians, but I’ll throw them a bone for arguement sake. Yes, drums are an instrument.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggd5AUIMuXKgpv8vS_DWiblXxKP8l41PZTTtOadmEKZjvm1a-sJvBsJGxnxtkffyo72mbV2m9q9HyXMSEfSfg1NSty7aAYI4Qf9dMjAodqIyPaqF42gz2H9YxnX0fpbvjqHIzwJ1dfLI04/s1600/jimi-hendrix-40-years.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggd5AUIMuXKgpv8vS_DWiblXxKP8l41PZTTtOadmEKZjvm1a-sJvBsJGxnxtkffyo72mbV2m9q9HyXMSEfSfg1NSty7aAYI4Qf9dMjAodqIyPaqF42gz2H9YxnX0fpbvjqHIzwJ1dfLI04/s400/jimi-hendrix-40-years.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">If you don't know who this is, punch yourself in the face right now.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">So anyways, (pay attention gomer) these musicians played their respective musical instruments and then recorded them to tape. Sometimes they would get together in one big room, or maybe they would all be in different isolated rooms. They would try over and over again until they got the part right. Sometimes it could take days or weeks or months to record these “tracks”, and then they could be mixed down and edited by very talented men and women who would take the reels of tape, and actually cut and splice them together, then re-record the final product, after it was all said and done. It was an art form, not only performed by the musicians, but also by the studio engineers and the mastering engineers. Early in the days of recording you needed to all play together to record everything on two total tracks. These days, you can record as many tracks as your hard drive on your computer servers will allow.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fast forward to the modern era of rawk. (fast forward is what us old people would use on our cassette tape players) I can plug a guitar into a converter box and record a track on my laptop. I can then pitch correct the track, since I suck at playing guitar. I can also adjust the tempo in certain spots because I speed up and slow down as I play, because I’m just not that good. Drummer? I don’t need no stinking drummer!?! I’ve got all the drum patches of every super awesome rawk drummer that I downloaded from a torrent file sharing site. (FREEBIE!) My younger sister is doing vocals for me, because she loves Lady GAGA, and sounds just like her. (she’s 13) She sucks at singing, but if I put the mic in the bathroom, (better acoustics) she sounds a lot better. (she’s clothed, dude, don’t get all gross) Of course I’m gonna T-Pain up her vocal tracks with the Auto Tune, because it’s easier than learning the song and actually singing it correctly. (Cher, I blame you for this abomination) I can do all this in my free (stolen off a torrent site) copy of Final Cut Pro. Studio? Sheyah, right. Bedroom? Definitely. My sister is Rebecca Black, by the way, in case you were wondering.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMM6x0VSc8YKCtOC-lBTvo1s4w20hQUVCT_XHsKC3Kni8iJyDRwx_6CD-HNHgNp-6MsgxZ6MCM73UUFFfTB29mL1ej1zOz3bZXVegon-G4SlRMHfiY3sehY72pFBMfUGqdFhLtvO3v5jeZ/s1600/Rebecca-Black.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMM6x0VSc8YKCtOC-lBTvo1s4w20hQUVCT_XHsKC3Kni8iJyDRwx_6CD-HNHgNp-6MsgxZ6MCM73UUFFfTB29mL1ej1zOz3bZXVegon-G4SlRMHfiY3sehY72pFBMfUGqdFhLtvO3v5jeZ/s200/Rebecca-Black.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">^Anti Christ</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Still confused? Okay, listen up cheese dick, here’s the dealio: ALL BANDS SUCK: Music is an art form. Art is subjective. Therefore, not everyone will like your band. Someone out there thinks your band sucks. Therefore, ALL BANDS SUCK, it just depends on who you ask. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now go take your Hot Topic skinny jeans and your manliner and your whiny Morrissey wannabe vocals and shove them up your Glee Fan ass. Me and Jimi Hendrix will be over here slaying beasts and dragons with our rawkness. See blog name for further instruction. \m/ o . o \m/</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-46643961345048756902011-06-13T12:24:00.000-04:002011-06-13T12:24:23.185-04:00Day Of Reflection<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I made it. A whole year has passed since my unfortunate interaction with a Toyota Corolla. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The accident still plays in my head, often, in full color; a vivid memory. The jingling of shattered headlamp glass, the screeching of rubber, the sound of wind leaving my lungs as I tumble, the scrape of plastic sounds off in my ears as my helmet skids and pops and slams along the road. The smell of your own blood, mixed with earth and grass and hot asphalt. A memory that will fade in time, but will be permanently locked into my brain in between fuzzy old memories and all the little voices that raise up from time to time.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhzbAM3hU3j87Qg6Ai9-S7ZQHsVECCF7eLwpjDGxDXuJ5PF9J_TdOjh1UkC_-_X9TuLqRCixhO1FlaLJO81WRWnHGcrzuFKmjtziI8KseWLr6_kxzAsDio3iPwqy4cIg-Gea32lklcp9p/s1600/reflection.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhzbAM3hU3j87Qg6Ai9-S7ZQHsVECCF7eLwpjDGxDXuJ5PF9J_TdOjh1UkC_-_X9TuLqRCixhO1FlaLJO81WRWnHGcrzuFKmjtziI8KseWLr6_kxzAsDio3iPwqy4cIg-Gea32lklcp9p/s200/reflection.jpg" width="151" /></span></a></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m lucky. No, I’m not lucky, I’m downright INSANELY lucky to be here today. Nobody walks away from an accident like that. The nurses and the doctors all said so. But somehow..... I did. So I get to live some more, and I best better enjoy it, and be grateful for the opportunity.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here I am 12 months later. Thankful that I can walk. There were a few moments where I felt sure that I would walk with a permanent limp, or constant physical pain. (the knee ‘reminds me’ it’s there every once and a while) I still have issues with the flexibility of my knee, but I can in fact, walk. Thankful for that. I could have lost a leg, an arm, a foot, a hand, or suffered brain damage. (I think my doctor might argue that last point :-) ) Thankful that I didn’t, and damned lucky that I’m using both hands to type, and that both my feet are propped up on the ottoman right now. Kneeling to pray for thanks is only an issue if I choose to kneel on my right knee. Fortunately I have two. Luckily, I still have two.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My stamina is coming back to me, slowly but surely. Walking more than a block was a chore for so many months. I can stand up to watch a band play it’s entire show, without needing to sit and rest. (now if I could just find a band that doesn’t suck major ass) I can carry a ladder from the garage to replace a couple of light bulbs at my folks’ house. I can wash my car in the driveway. I can mow the lawn. (and stay the hell off of it, will ya?) I can exercise without being in severe pain 15 minutes later. Slow and steady wins the race.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are so many things to be grateful for today. Life, health, friends both real and on the interwebs, and humor and clear thought. I am humble and grateful today, and I am thankful for the opportunity to be here to share. I look in the mirror and smile because I'm happy, AND because, I'M STILL HERE.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-74025036823667146662011-06-06T09:03:00.000-04:002011-06-06T09:03:06.029-04:00Living The Dream..... Or Something.<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9430092179682106" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just spoke with an dear old friend. She said she was proud of me for following my career dreams and taking the risks to do so. Funny thing was, I hadn’t realized that I had been taking risks. That got me thinking.....</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9430092179682106" style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ec-1KKTw1Fv5Ttk4eAPUcctzxldBuZVD4PtqO6LWSS0D9V3kBwX2J-7WDeuTzW6TG3EgRwOlemx6wzH9tmNF4z8YL5KVyWYKj6xP-mSq6mpjQJnEdGhByG_-DVAv744coG-elXAZYjpp/s1600/g-flash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Ec-1KKTw1Fv5Ttk4eAPUcctzxldBuZVD4PtqO6LWSS0D9V3kBwX2J-7WDeuTzW6TG3EgRwOlemx6wzH9tmNF4z8YL5KVyWYKj6xP-mSq6mpjQJnEdGhByG_-DVAv744coG-elXAZYjpp/s320/g-flash.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Grandmaster Flash. The.Best.Ever.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Music and entertainment have always played a major role in my life. I started playing instruments way back in 4th grade, beginning with the Cello. Beautiful sounding instrument if played properly. I continued on through high school and also during my short stint in the college world. I met a neighborhood friend one night during college. He was a DeeJay. He showed me a few things about how that all worked, and I began to play records at the bar where he worked 1 night a week. My tenure as a nightclub DeeJay spanned nearly a decade. I made a very decent living, and had the opportunity to work at some of the best nightclubs in town. During the crazy, self indulgent decade that was the 80’s, it was quite a memorable ride. I wish I could describe it well.... I grew tired of carrying around my milk crates full of records(when I finally sold them years later, there were 18 of them!) and set out to find the next logical step. For me, it was becoming an audio engineer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Did you know there are schools dedicated to becoming an audio engineer? Wait a minute, you kids don’t even know what that is..... An audio engineer is the guy who makes the band sound good. He’s the guy in the studio twisting all those knobs on the recording console, and placing mics on the drums and in front of all the amplifiers. He’s often the guy who runs sound at your favorite live venue every time they have a band. We travel in vans and buses all over the world with any band that will pay us. We’re a mix between soldiers of fortune and audio whores. We don’t really care if your band is good, we just want to work and make money. It HELPS if your band is good, because then we will talk with you and hang out with you after the show, and not call you morons, and tell you that your band sucks major ass, and that my 6 year old daughter could play that solo better than you, ya douche.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrv6Qc0wEMU01FoNjwKuzEJkg2PtsswWtMHNkhaXd1rYguyKwX4VtrmdU5VHDkZ-M5a-PMMt2Mk9f6BatXUQhK0uradwEpVlYPsU1j8hyG1b6b034n5Tw90jPgA_hXWSBDWaob7nto44L/s1600/RatSound_Maroon5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrv6Qc0wEMU01FoNjwKuzEJkg2PtsswWtMHNkhaXd1rYguyKwX4VtrmdU5VHDkZ-M5a-PMMt2Mk9f6BatXUQhK0uradwEpVlYPsU1j8hyG1b6b034n5Tw90jPgA_hXWSBDWaob7nto44L/s320/RatSound_Maroon5.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Yes, I know what all the knobs do.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But risks? I hadn’t thought about that.... In fact there are quite a few risks that we take while chasing after the elusive brass ring. I spent time wondering if I would ever be able to really make a serious living at it. In the beginning, you often are working for next to nothing, and are juggling two and sometimes three jobs to pay the bills. Living with roommates, because you couldn’t possibly afford a place of your own. Working all day, then running to the club to run sound for a local band that needs your expertise, loading out the band gear by yourself because the band needs to be hitting on the last few bar flies that remain, grab your cash, go home, throw down some Kraft Mac and Cheese, sleep, and do it all over again, ad nauseum. Sometimes, you might not have many gigs at all. I recall one December that I worked 5 shows. 5 days of work before Christmas. It was a lean holiday for me and my family. But you can’t give up because you’re so close to getting another tour.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve got a pal that works for a very popular band. He tours internationally with them. When they are not on the road doing performances, they fly him home from where ever they finish their tour. He gets half his regular salary per week while at home. I was not so fortunate, as I worked for much smaller groups. When the tour is over, you’re unemployed, unless you’ve got something lined up. If you were able to save any money you made on the tour, you’ve got a little buffer until you can find temporary work, or a part time job. It was a roller coaster ride, both emotionally and financially. Many still hold out hope that another tour will come. For me, I had to walk away. I toured regularly for ten years. I’ve had the great fortune to do shows in 42 states, Canada and Mexico. Seeing this great country through the window of a van was tremendous. I did what I set out to do, and gained a pretty good reputation as being a hard working guy who would go the extra mile for your band. I still hear from old band members to this day, and love staying in touch with them.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The risks were high. Your friends at home, their lives keep moving forward while your gone. Friends fade away, as their lives go on. Family knows they cannot count on you to be home for every holiday, as who knows where in North America I might be at the time. Will I have enough money to pay rent for two months before the next leg of the tour starts?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I chose to find a regular job, hang up my guns and spurs, and leave the touring to the younger set. It’s fun to reminisce about all those fun and crazy and screwed up moments the world of rock and roll brings. And for fun, I get to run sound for some old local musician friends of mine. They will play at a dive bar every now and again. These days, it’s just for fun, and I enjoy visiting an old part of my career path. Sometimes I’ll even smash a glass. To be a rock star. Or something like that.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-23544420656083309372011-05-26T09:31:00.000-04:002011-05-26T09:31:43.348-04:00Paging Mr. Smith....<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.7272512835916132" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, my future ex-girlfriend Random Girl has sweetly asked for me to begin a series. I think she would rather have me IN a hotel, rather than write about them. But I digress......</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not all touring is wonderful and full of awesomeness. There are long, long drives through the middle of the night to get to the next show, or ‘gig’ as us professionals refer to the events where we make our pittance. Once, we drove from Boston, Mass to New Orleans. That’s 32 hours of driving in a van full of gear. We did it with 3 people, each of us switching off, so the others could get a cat nap before their next shift behind the wheel. 32 hours. In a van. Smoking Marlboros, guzzling Mountain Dew, and choking down a handful of Sour Cream and Chive Pringles. Pringles, by the way, are the perfect road snack. They come in a resealable tube. Your snack stays fresh and unsmashed. You can also pour them into your mouth. I kept them in the front cupholders, next to the Dew.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxMKJgyxUUwLUwPHl7FsrRe76-2Efynp1vjiKba2ozBZXFJacT7cm1Oomgy2wP2ry86FORFcLZo9V1KvBueusMMqtwdRTQv5BuRuPXZyxEZ2JvNgGfRrTFWzLX2FRm6GtoQkgVDOa2zaS2/s1600/jiggy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxMKJgyxUUwLUwPHl7FsrRe76-2Efynp1vjiKba2ozBZXFJacT7cm1Oomgy2wP2ry86FORFcLZo9V1KvBueusMMqtwdRTQv5BuRuPXZyxEZ2JvNgGfRrTFWzLX2FRm6GtoQkgVDOa2zaS2/s200/jiggy.jpg" width="194" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I'd use a fake name if I dressed like that, too</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I’m way off track here. Back on topic, which is how your mind wanders while driving. That's when the devious little games unfold..... </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were midway through our New England run, which was about 2 weeks of college and small theater dates. We were pulling into town to do a show at a little college. If you’ve traveled to New England, you may have noticed that many people, are, how should I say, ‘uptight’? They are conservative, and many (outside of Boston) seem to be lacking a great personality. We piled out of the van, and headed for the lobby of our hotel. We had been joking around (as usual) on our 5 hour drive, and when we got to the lobby, everyone just drops their bags on the floor and fills the burgundy floral easy chairs and Early American couches. It’s actually a tactic taught to me by a very wise tour manager. The front desk will do ANYTHING to get you out of their lobby as fast as they can when you’ve just set up an duffel obstacle course. I put my metal briefcase up on the counter and wait for the young girl behind the desk to hang up the phone. It seems she’s setting up her evening plans with her friends. She smiles, gives me the “just a sec” one finger in the air thing, and I open my briefcase and unload a pile of paperwork onto the counter, looking for my reservation notes. (no, this was before we ALL had fully loaded smart phones. Back in the stone ages, I guess.) She hangs up, and asks, “Hello, sir, do you have reservations?” </span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No....Yes, of course we have reservations....”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">She looks confused, like she’s not sure if I meant Yes or No. “The name?” </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Smith. The reservation is under Smith.” </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She shuffles through the reservation cards that she’s pulled out on her counter. “Um, Sir, I’m not seeing a reservation here for Smith.” </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I look over the counter and look over the strewn cards as she shifts them around on the counter. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, silly, there it is, right there.”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">“Which one?!?” </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, that’s the one.” </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sir, the name on that reservation is White, not Smith.”</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well yes, it’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">spelled </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">White, but it’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">pronounced </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Smith. It’s a family pronunciation.” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I said completely deadpan. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">She’s stunned. Her mouth agape, but nary a word can be heard. She blankly stares at me. I stare, with great conviction, right back at her. “Um, okay, Mr. …. Smith.... 5 rooms, yes?” </span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, we have 5 rooms.”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I then proceed to sign the reservation card as Mr. Smith, and hand her the corporate credit card that belongs to the band. It has the lead singer’s name on it, and now she’s completely lost. Mr. White signs in as Mr. Smith, and hands her what appears to be a bogus credit card. The band is getting fidgety. After all, we’ve been in the lobby a whole 8 minutes. The bass player and the drummer are doing human beat box and rapping Straight Outta Compton over by the snack machines. </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “Okay, whutever, here’s your room keys.” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thank you very kindly, Miss.”</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; white-space: normal;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.12109157792292535" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And off to our rooms we went. It’s not uncommon for musicians and people of a certain level of popularity to use a fake name when checking in to hotels and for dinner reservations. We of course, didn’t have to worry about anyone finding us. In fact, just the opposite! We wanted people to find our hotel and bring us beer and pizza after the shows!! Now of course my last name</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; white-space: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> is</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: small; white-space: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> White. We just wanted to mess with her conservative little mind just a wee bit. The corporate card was perfectly legal, and it’s commonplace for a band member to have one. We paid, we rocked, we slept til noon, and as we checked out, our Little Miss was back at the counter. I winked at her. “Goodbye, Mr. Smith, uh, White, um Smith.” We laughed all the way to the next town. The sun was shining as we left that little slice of New England behind us. On to the next spot on the map and a new adventure.</span></span> </span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-26048291814322260822011-05-24T07:24:00.004-04:002011-05-24T09:28:09.354-04:00The Switch Is On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9B8Vgxid0rvFxzQ8d8PbbCtWH5KIf6aOpEPBoUAN4TwC6uf3vH_W_WwyZkxImYafVssA_iri3GJSmlgRbU4iTdSwq470O4tcIYdt9O2GpyAR5wDCzIsD1PFvhtux0UUoZfDE9RfmJlKnU/s1600/VanTrail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9B8Vgxid0rvFxzQ8d8PbbCtWH5KIf6aOpEPBoUAN4TwC6uf3vH_W_WwyZkxImYafVssA_iri3GJSmlgRbU4iTdSwq470O4tcIYdt9O2GpyAR5wDCzIsD1PFvhtux0UUoZfDE9RfmJlKnU/s320/VanTrail.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Glamorous Life</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.6583164681214839" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, this writing prompt is too good to pass on. I could do a SERIES on Hotel stories, trust me. I’ll throw this little gem out there for you and the rest of the minions over at <a href="http://www.studiothirtyplus.com/">Studio 30+</a>. Read it and weep (laughing) peons!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The freaks come out on Halloween, and so do the merry pranksters. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I traveled the country in a van full of musicians and tour members hauling a small trailer full of band gear, t-shirts and duffel bags of partially washed clothes. We were a band, and we rocked North America nightly together for over 4 years.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We finished a particularly raucous Halloween show. We have said our parting words, and “Thank You Good Night!”, has been yelled as we walk out the backstage door. With the band loaded(literally) and the gear in the trailer, we head back to one of our regular hotels. We’ve been to this city numerous times, and we’ve always found this hotel to be a little nicer than some of our regular stops. It’s a lovely Victorian building with only a few rooms and 4 post beds. Wonderful menu in the dining room, too. We treated ourselves to this hotel every tour.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The guitar player informs me that he’s expecting a “special friend”. A Special Friend is someone a band member actually is looking forward to seeing again. Typically he knows both her first AND last name, and probably has her phone number. She’s driving 6 hours to meet us, and to ‘travel’ with us for the next couple of dates over the weekend. It just so happens that I’m acquainted with the girl in question. She’s from my hometown, and I actually introduced the two. For the record, if a girl travels with us, it’s the responsibility of the particular band member to foot the bill, and share HIS personal space, without inconveniencing the others on board. You may imagine hearing, “Stop it you’re touching me stop touching me you’re on my seat stop touching me.” You would be right. We are childish, sophomoric boys gone wild. Fart jokes hourly. Fireworks were lit off INSIDE the van once. Okay, more than once.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This little hotel is charmingly behind the times. Real brass keys with the little plastic key fobs. Folded down linens upon your arrival. The desk clerk knew all of our names as we would depart for sound check, and as we returned later to change into our shiny show shirts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I called the front desk, posing as the guitar player. I informed the front desk that I, the guitar player, was switching rooms with my sound engineer, (really me) so he could be next door to the singer, because they were working on new material together. The kind desk clerk made a note of the room change, altered the ledger to reflect who was in which room, and would change the wake up calls accordingly. I just successfully made it SEEM that the guitar player was residing in MY room, and I in his! The switch is on.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now, like I said before, we had a pretty rocking good time at the big show. Halloween, vodka, beer, cute girls adoring each of us, and dudes telling the band how much they totally were blown away. We staggered in around 1AM and flopped in our respective rooms.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">About 4AM, my room phone rings. It’s Lily. Remember, it’s the guitar player’s room, right? She asks for him, and I tell her that I don’t know what room he’s in, as he switched with someone and it’s really really late. She’s exhausted from her drive, and ready to collapse. I tell her to come upstairs, take half the bed, and just crash, and we’ll find your guitar slinging hero in the morning. I had no intention of taking advantage of the situation. Lily agrees that I should let her in, and she’s asleep in ten minutes. All curled up under the covers like a little spikey-haired rock kitten.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some hours later, my phone rings. It’s 930AM, and there’s a groggy guitar player on the phone. He asks if I had heard from Lily, because she was supposed to hook up with him last night, and she never called. He didn’t even sound worried, he sounded bummed because he didn’t get a happy ending. I said, “Lily? Oh yeah, she’s right here. Wanna talk to her?” He gulped and yelled, “WHAAAATT!!?!?!” “Yeah, she’s right here, slept here last night, said she couldn’t find your room.” (I’m howling with laughter inside right now, I just totally hosed this guy! Fist pumping my supreme practical joke skills) “You can’t be serious...” “Yeah, she’s right here. I’ll send her down. Hey... Happy Halloween, dude.” He pauses, realizing he had just been owned. “Fuck you, man.”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I sent my friend Lily down the hall, about 4 doors. I heard the door slam. I think he started speaking to me about 5 days later. Trick or treat? I’ll take trick.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Bow to the master, little guitar playing man. Bow. To. The. Master.</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-15324276532017673512011-05-21T13:51:00.005-04:002011-05-22T08:43:41.541-04:00It's Okay, I'm Methodist<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaQJ_pS3TCO-0Ww3BO8QRh3GIWRIZaK9nIsxg6S_NHSUPPzMKYl6Dbj50xHntDngqrkFtpDSU2fVTpql8o9xQy4k4gbke9K_02C2nEwKZjiO20uR-CxfJ33PlCdZHeqI4FNVtEGqnIPQw/s1600/angrypreacher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlaQJ_pS3TCO-0Ww3BO8QRh3GIWRIZaK9nIsxg6S_NHSUPPzMKYl6Dbj50xHntDngqrkFtpDSU2fVTpql8o9xQy4k4gbke9K_02C2nEwKZjiO20uR-CxfJ33PlCdZHeqI4FNVtEGqnIPQw/s320/angrypreacher.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Eternal HELLFIRE!!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> <span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was baptised, confirmed and raised Methodist. I went to church and bible camp, and youth group. Because I had to. It was required by my parents that we be rudely awakened at the crack of dawn on a Sunday morning to go to youth group at church. 8AM service. As a teenager, it was nearly impossible to actually be awake at 8AM, let alone be an active participant in anything. One particular Sunday, I recall a conversation that occurred in youth group about forgiveness.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">First of all, being Methodist was easy peazey lemon squeezy. Lent? Yeah, you should probably give up something. There’s no kneeling during service, so you can sleep sitting up during the entire droning service. Shoot, sometimes we didn’t even SING. And, best of all, we will be forgiven and absolved of ALL sins at the gates of heaven by Almighty God.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We were speaking about forgiveness in youth group. Todd and I were snapping each other on the arms with rubber bands. Mike looked completely stoned from a hard night. Ann Marie was playing with her hair. We half listened to our youth pastor as he explained to us that God would forgive us of all our sins, and we must try our best to live by the word of the good book. Of course I had questions....</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So if I poke my sister in the eye, I’ll be forgiven?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“No, you shouldn’t poke your sister in the eye, that’s just bad!”</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But if I do, I’ll be forgiven, right?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“I don’t think you understand how this works...”</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Pastor, you JUST SAID I will be forgiven of ALL my sins by God upon entering the gates of Heaven. Is God gonna get all picky about which things I’ve done?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“No, I don’t think so. But when you stand in judgement before God...”</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So he’s gonna get all judgemental on me?!? What about ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged.’ Kinda hypocritical, isn’t it?”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“Son, only God can pass judgement on any of his children. He will judge you more harshly if you do bad things.”</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But I’m STILL gonna be forgiven, so I’m feeling pretty good about my choices right about now.” </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wink across the room at Ann Marie- she smiles that little crooked grin right back at me. Todd is cringing while poking me in the ribs because he thinks Pastor is gonna hit me with a candlestick at this point. Which, according to him, he’ll be forgiven for.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>(heavy sigh) “Son, I don’t know where you came up with this idea, but you’re just flat wrong.”</i></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, but I’ll be having fun. Which apparently isn’t wrong, because I’ll be forgiven for it.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ann Marie laughs out loud, followed by a little snort. She’s been holding it in too long. Todd leans backward on the rear legs of his chair and falls right on his ass. Now everyone is laughing. I stand up and give Todd a hand up. “Todd, I forgive you for disrupting youth group.”</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Pastor sighs, storms out of the room and right out the side hallway door and lights up a cigarette.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Later that spring I got to second base with Ann Marie at a youth group sleep over. Ann Marie? she was the pastor’s daughter.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ll see you all soon. In the mean time, I’ll be surfing a wave of fire, listening to the Rolling Stones. I also have a seat saved at my table for you. In Hell.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-19693502911465951012011-05-18T13:38:00.002-04:002011-05-18T13:39:31.933-04:00Fallout<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSibE3-0eSG1pe-x3meJHxBrr5Uzn2A5Juf8Dk7OdWOCUSwdDarlKw28BUQZFeKgZfujJPx82NJNa0xDIY4PiO-3dHUhB_y2lKMUm7uScSKk5lgSzYn3JT_o-_lQVWiCNh2lbSoGtb4_1o/s1600/fatbeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSibE3-0eSG1pe-x3meJHxBrr5Uzn2A5Juf8Dk7OdWOCUSwdDarlKw28BUQZFeKgZfujJPx82NJNa0xDIY4PiO-3dHUhB_y2lKMUm7uScSKk5lgSzYn3JT_o-_lQVWiCNh2lbSoGtb4_1o/s1600/fatbeach.jpg" /></span></a></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.5185909934807569" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So, the big thing that happens to you when you spend the good portion of a year either laid up or recovering is, you become a huge gelatinous mass. Yep, muscle atrophy, unsightly weight gain, and absolutely no stamina. It doesn’t help that my current job requires much less physical labor than my last. I used to climb ladders, carry heavy stuff, load heavy stuff into big trucks, and hang off of ladders and scissor lifts while installing the big heavy stuff we loaded into the trucks.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I used to be very active by day. Now.... Not so much. Is it a big surprise that I’ve put on weight? No. But I did have some help from my Year Of Unfortunate Events. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let’s throw osteoarthritis into the mix. I was diagnosed nearly a decade ago. It’s so much fun, too! Lemme see if I can describe how that makes you feel..... If you’ve had that all over body ache associated with a really nasty case of the flu, then you’re right on par with what many people suffer through EVERY DAY. ALL DAY. It’s like your joints are in slow motion, like they’re very stiff ALL THE TIME. Sitting, lying down, standing, the pain is always there to varying degrees. Now if you listen to what your body is telling you, you have a hard time justifying exercising your poor joints, as you KNOW it will be even MORE painful when your through. (this is not always the case, but it is a very REAL thought that passes through your mind.) I played soccer all through my youth. Running is something I truly miss. Try hitting your knee with a mallet every time your foot comes down on the pavement as you run. That’s kinda what my knees feel like in a full on sprint. There is definitely evidence of bone on bone in my knee. The x-rays showed it. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Now I’ve had every blood test known to man done over the last year. My last battery of tests showed my doctor some very unusual stuff, in my opinion..... My sodium level is low. My heart is very strong, and I run an athlete’s heartbeat. (slightly lower than normal, but not dangerously so) Yes, my cholesterol needs some work, but I’m not going to die in ten seconds. My kidney and liver functions are perfectly normal. Figure that one out. I worked in the music industry for 20 years, and my liver and kidneys are fine? Wha?? Okay, I’ll take it. See? Kind of a bizarre life I’ve lived, I don’t know how I made it through those years and am still ALIVE, let alone fairly healthy. Weird.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got back into a work out regimen on Monday. A very short exercise session of stretches and some squats. Walking was a problem after the leg injury, so if I can get back to walking well, then I can do much more activities. Standing up for an hour at a club watching a live band? Forget about it. Tuesday I woke up feeling like I just finished a marathon. Aches and pains everywhere. But now, the message is, “Dude, don’t be a wuss, get back after it. YOU CAN DO IT!” Since I’ve been cleared by my doctors to do whatever I want, I’m gonna get after this fatigue issue pronto. It’s just gotta go away.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh, and thank you Holy Mama. I appreciate your kind words. Many people I know could benefit from having people in their corner like you. Thank you.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-17766163927018856982011-05-13T15:07:00.003-04:002011-05-13T15:19:01.055-04:00Flashback 3<div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.11324942554347217" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>*This post was lost in the Blogger server crash... Along with any comments... Meh.</i></b></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.11324942554347217" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZS0qg7IYt-riXPpqL_B-Jt0vPJdVqJjoMaZ0xU1f0TKNNZT5ebhEJlLZ8FMI13TEvpb5ubph2s1yEkrDB2DF-iXwyQNzFijsc4jWYmEdu5PKBn4zfgk352ZuX0EoHTwPkIO1kEztjJjH/s1600/orly_lemmony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbZS0qg7IYt-riXPpqL_B-Jt0vPJdVqJjoMaZ0xU1f0TKNNZT5ebhEJlLZ8FMI13TEvpb5ubph2s1yEkrDB2DF-iXwyQNzFijsc4jWYmEdu5PKBn4zfgk352ZuX0EoHTwPkIO1kEztjJjH/s1600/orly_lemmony.jpg" /></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.11324942554347217" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m having surgery. Again. Had my knee worked on after the accident to remove asphalt and road debris, now a hernia operation. I think I’d like a do-over for the last 12 months, if I can get one... ANYONE?? Come on, throw me a bone here.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When you have umbillical hernia surgery, they open you up at your belly button, and also do a couple of other incisions to stick hoses in your abdomen under the muscle tissue. One is to actually INFLATE you with CO2, so they can get the little nylon mesh between your organs and your muscle structure. It prevents the hernia from pushing back through the muscle structure. (That’s what was preventing my vertical muscles from engaging properly.) They inflate you to the size of a mini cooper, then stick in a cover from a McDonalds breakfast meal, or something. I begged them to use helium, because I thought it would be awesome to float out of the recovery room to the car. The nurse could just hold my hand and guide me through the automatic doors. No need for a wheel chair!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are on your back for a solid week. Yes, after a few days you can get up and move around, albeit gently, but the first couple of days I just slept. This surgery disrupts your entire abdominal area. This was a much different kind of pain than my knee injury. It was an all over pain. It seemed that my entire torso ached.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Went back to work ten days after surgery. That’s the longest consecutive period I’ve missed work in my life, I think, including vacations. At about the two week mark, my belly button started to get a little enflamed. It got worse for a couple of days, so I called the Doc to schedule an appointment. We played phone tag for 3 days. By now, my belly has a pie pan sized red area, and is so sensitive to the touch that when my shirt rubs against it, it’s painful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My doctor sends me for a CAT scan, and asks me to stay until the results are in. He admits me immediately. I’ve got an infection that requires IV antibiotics. Apparently, if I had delayed another day or two, they would have been admitting me into ICU. Thanks for the phone tag, Doctor’s office! I remain in the hospital over the weekend. My first full weekend off in over 3 months, and the first sunshiney weekend we’ve had so far this year. SUPER. Yeah, I’ll just make my motorcycle a museum piece, I don’t really want to ride it or anything. My Doctor releases me and hands off some antibiotics pills for one more week of meds. I will finish them off today. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Next will be the fallout that occurred while I spent a good portion of the last year recovering from various incidents.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Funny thing..... I’m not complaining about this crap. Sure, it’s been a tough year, but </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m still here.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> That little phrase has become somewhat significant to me over the last few years. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’M STILL HERE.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-64079521735773166512011-05-13T15:06:00.000-04:002011-05-13T15:06:05.152-04:00Flashback 2.5 (server crash special edition!)<div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.44867822038941085" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">*Since the Blogger servers went south for a couple of days, I thought I'd stick this one in, as it's now in order of occurrence.*</span></b></i></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.44867822038941085" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.44867822038941085" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(self)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hey dumbass, you forgot a huge portion of your story, shit for brains.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What are you talking about, self?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(self)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The STAIRS. How did you forget about the stair incident?!?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ohhhh, shit, I DID forget a huge chunk, didn’t I?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(self)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You are such a dumbass. You’re brain is fried, isn’t it?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Um, that means YOU’RE fried, genius.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(self)</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No way, dude, I’m on top of my game, I REMEMBERED the story. You didn’t.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Whatever, dude...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yeah, so in October, I was leaving a friend’s place. She lives on the second floor of this house, and her steps are like fire escape steps. Metal everything, all outside the building. I always thought they seemed a little steeper than a normal set of steps.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We had been out on a weekend evening, and I was leaving her place to head home for the night. I turned to say goodbye about 6 steps down the stairs. As I turned back, I reached for the handrail. I’m still nursing a small limp with my right leg from the bike accident, and my right boot heel caught on the tread of the step. It’s dark, and I just plain missed the rail with my left hand. If you miss a handrail in the dark, as your dropping down to the next step, you just might lose your balance. I certainly did, and caught the metal handrail under my left arm on my ribs. Down I went, and HARD. Little bit of a scrape on my left knee, knocked the back of my head pretty good, too. But my ribs were KILLING ME. It was a biting pain as I breathed. Yep, you guessed it, broke a couple of ribs. Limp, sore knee, lump on the head, broken ribs. What the hell.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you’ve had a broken rib before, you know that there is no way to cast them. You can wrap them with ACE bandage, and try to bind them, and keep them from moving around. Reaching the top shelf in the kitchen? Don’t even try it. Pushing yourself up from your desk chair? One arm only for a couple of months. Ribs heal very slowly, as they are constantly moving. That whole breathing thing keeps them flexible. Second time in my life I’ve broken ribs. Never a fun time.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So more time spent trying to just sit still and not be in pain. Note: Do NOT try and sleep on your side. Bad idea.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Motorcycle accident, falling down the fire escape, hernia surgery. I would like a do over for last year.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-17578358658643225372011-05-10T23:53:00.007-04:002011-05-10T23:56:29.964-04:00Flashback 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.16234945296309888" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The harsh reality of the motorcycle accident set in a few days after the fact. I remembered that I saw the driver do a ‘fake’ left turn, and that I had slowed down because he looked like he was turning. I was first in a line of traffic on this two lane road. He balked, stopped, and I twisted downward on the throttle, because he clearly saw me. Just as I pulled down, he pulled out! I hit him with throttle wide open, barely attacking my brake handle, clutch handle, and right foot crushing the rear brake pedal. Hit him behind the rear wheel, just before the bumper, and the bike went sideways, my left side facing oncoming traffic, and my right side taking full impact with the pavement. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpy47elVUwFvQyh2OTTuOvEcrqYfSij7La7k9geuE04t1Uku-lKEkHcC32jCd0bSIHoP3rqYZ3A4qzgH7RX_fl-b7neh_vzpeiPhY7GKVjDT0Jc3PDqdRZNGvRdPUcREyHkYJVdRPH3Hw/s1600/IMAG0041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpy47elVUwFvQyh2OTTuOvEcrqYfSij7La7k9geuE04t1Uku-lKEkHcC32jCd0bSIHoP3rqYZ3A4qzgH7RX_fl-b7neh_vzpeiPhY7GKVjDT0Jc3PDqdRZNGvRdPUcREyHkYJVdRPH3Hw/s200/IMAG0041.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m laying in bed at home as this all appears in my mind. Full leg immobilzing brace. My knee literally the size of a cantalope. Pain meds help some, but not enough. My right arm lost skin down to the dermal level near my elbow. It’s wrapped up fully from wrist to shoulder. Not exactly how I had envisioned my Summer Of Freedom.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Doc says I will be in physical therapy after my wounds heal for 9 weeks. Three times a week for 3 full months. Super awesome!! No physical activity for about 4 total months. I’ll let that sink in for a minute.... Think of all the things you can’t do when you can’t stand, kneel, or drive. For 4 months. (Barreness, for some reason YOU came to mind when I wrote that. ;-) ) Yeah, so not a lot you can do during those warm summer nights.... Maybe sit at the local cantina and enjoy a cold drink, but hobbling back to the car just seems so... Humiliating in a way.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">During my physical therapy, my wonderfully cool therapist observes that my stomach muscles aren’t working in their proper manner. It doesn’t appear to be from my accident, as I didn’t suffer any abdominal injuries. She suspects that I may have suffered a hernia, and I should see my regular doctor about it. Annnnnnd, she was right. Umbilical hernia it is! What the eff??</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wasn’t able to get to my Doctor for two months. His work schedule (he’s a sports med doctor, and works for a team) and mine prevented me from being seen right away. Doc says it’s an old injury, and he’s surprised that I didn’t notice it earlier. Well, I’m a guy, we don’t all stand in front of the mirror admiring ourselves and showin’ off the gun show and loving the washboard every morning. So no heavy lifting until we can get you in for surgery.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Two months after THAT, I get my surgery. So that gets all you little freaks just about up to date.... The next post will take you through the wonderful world of internal medicine, and what I’ve learned about surgery over the last 3 months. Stay tuned.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hey, YOU wondered where I’ve been, you’re finding out, so lay off. At least I wrote something....</span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-59515387903341569342011-05-08T20:26:00.000-04:002011-05-08T20:26:33.701-04:00Flashback 1<div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9560113886836916" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In order to get you up to date, I need to go backward a bit. A flashback, of sorts. So, to shed some light on this .endtransmission. character that a few of you have come to enjoy, allow me some latitude to put this together in a way I feel will be right and true. Truth, for a change.</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9560113886836916" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What follows is a true story. (Linda, I've added a bit here for the minions so they can understand all of it.) It was first written last year to my dear childhood friend Linda. (She visits here and is an amazing writer, as well as a lovely human being both inside and out. I cherish her friendship. So here goes.....</span><br />
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.9560113886836916" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUfQqt4dOz4QBDgaQnTja1B1x9fpoXk6vJeUJMhkfO4yKLkV46ayFh2rrlfvnGOXrfyG6ovZtJO3NjoVp6TsmY50SHfwzn6Ztu8dWkdXCvq42Rah_OKNCjKDh_Yv8Ocav13vLNGZfYLIK/s1600/P1010093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUfQqt4dOz4QBDgaQnTja1B1x9fpoXk6vJeUJMhkfO4yKLkV46ayFh2rrlfvnGOXrfyG6ovZtJO3NjoVp6TsmY50SHfwzn6Ztu8dWkdXCvq42Rah_OKNCjKDh_Yv8Ocav13vLNGZfYLIK/s200/P1010093.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9560113886836916" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got divorced in June of 2010. Bad idea to get married in the first place, but 3 wonderful teenagers needed a good role model, so I felt I could be 'that guy'. It's not necessary to go into this further, it's old history, and factors not into this story. So 2010 was my "Summer Of Freedom". You know the stuff, free living, wanton lusting after girls who's name you forget the next hour, walking around your place in your underwear because YOU CAN, eating fast food for every meal, and most importantly, riding my vintage motorcycle that I rebuilt with my own two hands ANYWHERE I WANT.</span><br />
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.9560113886836916" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While riding to work one Thursday morning, a young man who felt he needed to text his fiance' while turning left in front of me changed my summer plans..... I broadsided him doing 45 mph. The bike went down on the right side, and as it went down, I realized I didn't need to hold onto it anymore. My black beauty went skidding off like a rocket, and somehow I remembered that I needed to relax my muscles, and rolled like a rag doll. 20 or so yards later, I came to rest in the oncoming travel lane. I rolled off into the grass, pulled off my full face helmet, (thank God I'm not an idiot) and cussed like a sailor who'd just shot himself in the foot with a flare gun. I lifted my head to see my vintage ride lying on it's right side, steam and dust rising from her engine, spilling fuel. She was some 30 yards down the road from me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My right arm was bleeding from wrist to nearly my shoulder. I couldn't really feel my right knee or foot. I bent my ankle and figured it was still attached, and then as I rolled onto my back I found that my right knee would move enough that most of it wasn't still lying on the blacktop somewhere. My hands hurt, too, but thankfully leather gloves did their job. They were shredded enough that I could see skin through the double insulated palms.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Somehow, I never lost consciousness.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKVSAKeUes4AAGOFLhQjVMtGPkgSdbwAksw3ztfhMFQ7tjd1iSqt8G2rMG6VyJ50uZgjeXIz-TuDihD3yZUv4m0C80tU1gxhFfcmcSdBf2b1LH_K7gOSr_WURTwT__EkBdah1BYonvXn6/s1600/IMAG0046.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKVSAKeUes4AAGOFLhQjVMtGPkgSdbwAksw3ztfhMFQ7tjd1iSqt8G2rMG6VyJ50uZgjeXIz-TuDihD3yZUv4m0C80tU1gxhFfcmcSdBf2b1LH_K7gOSr_WURTwT__EkBdah1BYonvXn6/s200/IMAG0046.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"You just had an accident.", a voice said from behind my head. I looked up to see a woman in purple nursing scrubs looking down on me. Knowing that I never lost consciousness, I was puzzled as to why there was a nurse looking over me in the moist freshly cut grass. She went on to say, "I almost stopped you yesterday for riding too fast through traffic." Um, not for nothing Nursie, but if I was passing YOU, I doubt you were stopping me. By the way, I was probably trying to GET AWAY FROM YOU AND YOUR BAD DRIVING. I looked up at her, from my bloody resting place in the roads' shoulder, and said, "You can go now".</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The medics arrived minutes after my accident. They were nice, professional, and attentive. They also understood that I was in a rather jovial mood, because I was still alive. We joked all the way to the ER. They made me feel comfortable and calm, and truthfully, kept me from bawling like a little kid. I was in severe pain, as my right knee had impacted the car and the pavement, then the bike landed on it. My right arm was one big raspberry from forearm to shoulder. It felt like someone took a cheese grater to my arm. Bloody, but still intact. The toe of my right boot was severely dented, and I ended up with just deep bruising on the outer side of my right foot. I had my clothing cut off of me, down to my Hanes His Ways, and collared and boarded, before being put on the the gurney. My helmet had scuffing on two places on the front chin area, one on the forehead, and a nice scrape on the rear. I did not have a concussion. So yeah, I’m hard headed.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I left the hospital later that day. My wounds wrapped, my Mother in tears, and my head spinning, trying to grasp exactly how I was going to enjoy my summer. I was walking with a full leg brace and a set of crutches. I guessed that I wasn't going to be hittin' the clubs and riding to bike nights any time soon. The big shame was, I had just got my old vintage bike finally running the way it was meant to run. Loud and proud I took those corners on that big steel monster. Dragging your foot pegs through corners can be exciting. Dragging pegs have a whole new meaning when you do it because of someone Else's negligence.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The nurses asked me how I hit a car at 45 mph and didn't break a single bone..... I told them I was Wolverine. Must have been the morphine drip. I guess I’m just really lucky. I personally thanked my helmet, gloves and boots at a later time. But for now, I'll just dwell on the fact that I'm a really lucky person. Next summer will be here soon enough. (Written Winter, 2010)</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Tahoma; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thanks for sticking around.</span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-24760141360847291532011-05-05T20:43:00.000-04:002011-05-05T20:43:23.151-04:00Letting The Paint Dry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KbTHx52ThGIX71Ww5ZucgydatwFSXkcAaEZM65Q0DoChgico618f9ZfI4L223n0OMyDcKqKZoA3lfXml1Cs2GzBNR90MVe1iESzeHYtIdc4SMdmXFPl-5fldTNDFanLeUgGJbpDqOSdz/s1600/spilled_pills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_KbTHx52ThGIX71Ww5ZucgydatwFSXkcAaEZM65Q0DoChgico618f9ZfI4L223n0OMyDcKqKZoA3lfXml1Cs2GzBNR90MVe1iESzeHYtIdc4SMdmXFPl-5fldTNDFanLeUgGJbpDqOSdz/s1600/spilled_pills.jpg" /></a></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.40160065912641585" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I’m trying to make sense of the different words swirling around in my Percocet fog... That’s what the doctors gave me for my pain. There are some old stories that need to be written, in order to bring clarity to the newer works. I believe I’ve found my voice again, and am hoping it sticks around for a while this time. Writing has become a challenge over the last few months. This week is no exception. I’m buried in work; hardships both personal and family related, but I will try.... I will try to eek out a couple of pieces to get things back on track.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-663927554107644582011-04-19T10:44:00.000-04:002011-04-19T10:44:06.979-04:00Put Down The Paint Brush<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7kMembv1p5xMmFzlCDgRvWkW7AILcLPrCHenKCam5YSIP2Ewamvcrma9E0NwKOYQJKnPmDXUBWYhbu_hB5XUJMCAYeH_K-n9NnWtLZ7SMfu0629HA5FD9G4iO4n7qIUrRvsgvVGbf09h/s1600/painted-into-corner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs7kMembv1p5xMmFzlCDgRvWkW7AILcLPrCHenKCam5YSIP2Ewamvcrma9E0NwKOYQJKnPmDXUBWYhbu_hB5XUJMCAYeH_K-n9NnWtLZ7SMfu0629HA5FD9G4iO4n7qIUrRvsgvVGbf09h/s1600/painted-into-corner.jpg" /></a></div>I've successfully painted myself into a corner. I'm contemplating my approach, angle, and future. Mind blocks are being pushed aside, and progress will be forthwith..end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-42149712205926822072011-03-30T08:45:00.001-04:002011-03-30T08:45:07.182-04:00Yeah, So...I'm takin' a break. Get over it..end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-18821651580585354582011-03-23T20:42:00.007-04:002011-03-23T21:29:20.194-04:00Truth And No Dare<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjl4t2TnDKEPV4pUATFPaUGxxc-p_GhcNAdYzLikLa0wH2IsbsQzc6sYLywMstCqhqBGJQ8QDQ0u-5zjqFHEUCmkOHKgnftUSJHPRqpfzyvQqCCOD1MuHUVQHrs28-MWb2qvjfKc2BLtRY/s1600/versatile-blogger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjl4t2TnDKEPV4pUATFPaUGxxc-p_GhcNAdYzLikLa0wH2IsbsQzc6sYLywMstCqhqBGJQ8QDQ0u-5zjqFHEUCmkOHKgnftUSJHPRqpfzyvQqCCOD1MuHUVQHrs28-MWb2qvjfKc2BLtRY/s1600/versatile-blogger.jpg" /></span></a><span id="internal-source-marker_0.9748694577720016" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have received another award! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My dear friend Linda, from <a href="http://shoesforanimaginarylife.com/">Shoes For An Imaginary Life</a>, has passed this award to me. I get to offer up more truthiness, and lay down 7 facts about me. I personally think that there is a conspiracy, and people out there are trying to figure out who I really am. Because, well, EVERYONE wants to know who I am. Right? Damn you, Linda, another round of truth or dare without the dare part! But at least we’ll always have that one game of spin the bottle back in middle school, right? Now that I think about it, Linda did kind of double dog dare me to write this post. So here goes....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Freaky Factoids:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m the tallest person in my family. By a few inches taller. I’m also the only left hander. My sister (my only sibling) and I are both light hair, light eyed, and our parents are dark haired, dark eyed. We suspect the mailman.....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have was never suspended in school. Detentions, ruler across the knuckles, paddled, but never suspended. I went just up to the line, but never crossed it. Well, never got caught is more accurate. :-)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My view on all things romantic is really skewed. It always has been. No surprise that I’m disappointed in that portion of my life. Often. Hope springs eternal.(See? I’m totally screwed.) It was, at one point, an occupational hazard, and to some measure, still is.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Something I’ve learned from my parents, and carry with me to this day: Don’t ask the question, if you don’t want the answer. Please, local musician types, don’t ask me what I thought of your set. The answer will likely not be favorable.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some of my favorite cities: Phoenix, Arizona. The way the sand and green grass and mountains all play together is simply something marvelous to behold. Make sure you get a window seat, and be awake for your approach to the airport. Magnificent!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Chicago, Illinois. Diversity, small town feel to some of the suburban areas, yet this expansive downtown, the miracle mile, and the museums. Oh yeah. Giordanos Deep Dish Pizza, FTW!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Florida Keys. Peaceful evenings sitting at end of the keys watching the sun set, sipping on umbrella drinks. If I had been a pirate, I wouldn’t have minded being marooned there one bit.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">New York City. I could live there. Maybe I do, who knows? :-) It is without question the greatest city in the nation. It has everything you could ever dream. As an urban explorer, NYC excites me. So much to see and do, and it’s ever changing, evolving, and just down right fun. I also like driving in NYC. Because it’s as close to NASCAR as I’ll ever get.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am a motorcycle enthusiast. I’m not a biker. Bikers have leather vests, leather skin and poor manners. I’m also not a poseur. I didn’t buy a bike for the instant cool factor. I didn’t buy 800 dollars worth of tshirts and jackets. I bought a bike because they can be beautiful in their simplicity. They are fun to tinker with, modify, customize and create. So, I guess I’m more of a gearhead than anything else. I change my own oil, and always wear a helmet. (more on why later this year.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I like my job. More accurately, I have truly enjoyed a large majority of my career. I have few regrets in that area. This month, however, happens to be our busiest month of the year.</span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-38069043965304821372011-03-16T08:48:00.000-04:002011-03-16T08:48:03.037-04:00untitled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.755019175587222" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All that lies before me is destruction. There’s nothing left but rubble, twisted metal that used to be cars and boats and buses. Everywhere I look I see empty windows, broken and shattered panes of glass. Someone was looking through that window just a few days before. I cannot find our home, nor can I find my parents. My auntie and uncle did not make it out of the house, they were too slow, and just too old.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I yell out for my Mother, but she does not answer. My throat is dry, and sore from crying and screaming for her. It’s cold, and I forgot my jacket. I pick up a torn one from the ground. It is salty and wet, but I feel better with it on. I want to find Mother and Father. All I see is wood and sticks and stuff lying everywhere. There are no people here.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve walked all day it seems. I saw the sign from the front of my school. It was under a car and a big boat. There were some school papers on the ground. I saw one with one of my classmates’ name on it. A drawing of our school, with the sun above it. We were all holding hands and smiling. I liked that picture. But he is not here now. I wish I could find him. I wish I could find my Mother, too.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTg6B2qrtOijZ7L2Fsg7894HuVRNHw9Bru8GUXkRjE3ev3S-vIDK4KZ-Obv077XPfsH9vWq7-q7I7-maXH1rMK9_NrjIZGKKBfs1_eimbyosHCpUwyXX_en7j1ZaqTA2fVempJKp7oqdFn/s1600/eq1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTg6B2qrtOijZ7L2Fsg7894HuVRNHw9Bru8GUXkRjE3ev3S-vIDK4KZ-Obv077XPfsH9vWq7-q7I7-maXH1rMK9_NrjIZGKKBfs1_eimbyosHCpUwyXX_en7j1ZaqTA2fVempJKp7oqdFn/s320/eq1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s almost night time. I’m very tired and hungry. There is food all over the place, but it’s dirty, and I don’t want to eat it. I stole a bottle of water out of a crashed car. I was so thirsty, I couldn’t wait for Mother or Father to bring me some water. I’m sure they’ll find me. I hope they find me soon, it’s getting dark, and I don’t know where to go. It’s getting cold and windy, too.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There is a fire over there. I see people! Perhaps it’s Mother and Father! Oh I hope it’s them, I’m scared out in the dark by myself. Father never lets me play outside after dark. “When I’m older,” he says. The people let me sit by the fire. They are cold and wet, too. They do not know my parents, and have not seen them. They will let me stay with them, though. A nice lady with a bloody shirt hands me her blanket. She wraps me up in it. She called me by a different name. She is crying as she holds me to warm me. Mother and Father will come soon for sure. I just know it.</span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-65293238898630265362011-03-14T09:36:00.000-04:002011-03-14T09:36:33.610-04:00Brandi, You're A Fine Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvjXH9uJAW61lCFHN349tyrbie25ZLIdHZ0f_FSWq-wHrM57nHA5xD7rkdMyjAhfrpGM_RFoBABr3t2Vx0ehnWh1mSwzbRthW41tj2z_0IfzpzkgIvWvq2wymnG6OuJt6mJCwS91h-3DZ/s1600/Seven_facts_award.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvjXH9uJAW61lCFHN349tyrbie25ZLIdHZ0f_FSWq-wHrM57nHA5xD7rkdMyjAhfrpGM_RFoBABr3t2Vx0ehnWh1mSwzbRthW41tj2z_0IfzpzkgIvWvq2wymnG6OuJt6mJCwS91h-3DZ/s1600/Seven_facts_award.jpg" /></span></a></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.11426438204944134" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i><u>7 Truths About Me</u></i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve been tasked by Brandi from </span><a href="http://brandisplaceblog.blogspot.com/"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Brandi’s Place</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to post 7 facts about me. Since I enjoy a certain amount of anonymity here, this might be a little tough, so let’s see where my brain takes me for this exercise in truthiness.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Truth... Hmmm... I dunno, it’s against everything my blog represents.... I make up stories, therefore they are not completely true. I’m male, so as a self fufilling prophecy, “Men Lie”. (Hang on a minute here, was that my first truth? I dunno.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b><i>Facts About End Transmission...</i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have an unrepentant sweet tooth. There are 5 major food groups, right? The Pasta group, the Fast Food group, the Asian food group, the Pizza food group, and the Dessert food group. There are always cookies in the cupboard, and plenty of ice cold milk on hand. Had some coconut cream pie the other day. Delish!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have no pets. I love dogs and cats, but my allergies prevent me from having a little furry ball of energy around the ET compound. If I did have a dog, it would be a Rottweiler. Because they’re AWESOME.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I used to be a long haired rock and roller. As a concert sound engineer, someone paid me to go to rock concerts and drink beer. It’s good work if you can get it. I have since cut off (or more accurately lost) all my hair, and went corporate. Music and audio are still a big part of my life, but I sleep in my own bed every night. Well, almost every night.... nudgenudgewinkwink</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am a </span><a href="http://getoffmylawnblog.blogspot.com/2010/11/museum.html"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">neatnik.</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> You can blame my mother for this. Yes, my closet is color coordinated. That’s not hard to do when 80% of your wardrobe is black. (have ya seen my avatar people?) I learned long ago that it’s much easier in the morning to just reach in the closet and grab something without thinking. No brain power needed in the early hours before work. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t watch much network television. The TV is constantly on, sometimes even while I sleep. It’s usually on some cop drama or Dirty Jobs or some other basic cable stuff. It’s NEVER on any reality based programming. Because, well, it’s not REALITY. Favorite show of the moment.... The Cape. How many shows can you say have a midget, a stripper and a magician in it? (besides Jersey Shore)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have had one vacation as an adult. (Adult meaning over 30) I’ve been all over this continent, but only for working vacations, or just for work. I’ve worked in 42 states, Canada and Mexico. My one vacation was to Folly Beach. It was a family vacation, and it was a flippin’ nightmare. I’ve never been overseas. :/</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I often make time to appreciate the world around me. Even though I’m stuck in a gigantic concrete building for most of my week, I make sure to take time and step outside and look around. I’m looking forward to watching a few more sunsets this Spring and Summer. Take a few moments to enjoy one. I highly recommend it.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-78016466878004707802011-03-09T06:36:00.000-05:002011-03-09T06:36:37.994-05:00Pendulum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><div style="background-color: transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJ_zkW-yhlXAWoysZzRmAR8K9NT-RZ8q41vooVg9AHRSXcM5MHSnTClhRhS131-AhVjqm0eekcFpHsjJIKDyJJ6k4_QK3Me2ekatrIKAIL9RTW2NIhRT1xI4g_er2Q6X26fbeq19ZF4gv/s1600/pendulum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdJ_zkW-yhlXAWoysZzRmAR8K9NT-RZ8q41vooVg9AHRSXcM5MHSnTClhRhS131-AhVjqm0eekcFpHsjJIKDyJJ6k4_QK3Me2ekatrIKAIL9RTW2NIhRT1xI4g_er2Q6X26fbeq19ZF4gv/s320/pendulum.jpg" width="202" /></a></span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.6290847505442798" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pendulum is swinging back in my direction, and it’s heading straight for me, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I’m just one little ball away from being toppled by it’s mighty blow.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m looking after my parents now. You see, this is the time in life where the roles have changed, and we, as children, ,must do our best to look after our aging parents.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s not an easy task, as I’m still their little boy in their eyes. (and many times, in mine.) They are creatures of a very regimented schedule, and strict habit. Casual living is not my parents’ strong suit. Taking it easy, and relaxing does not come easy to two very busy, and involved people. They have been forced to slow their breakneck pace due to illnesses, old age, and well; life. Technology has rolled over them like a locomotive. They refuse to leave their one cell phone on when it’s on the charger. They don’t even have call waiting.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am responsible for getting them to and from appointments with the doctors. I also stop by every now and again just to have dinner, and get them caught up on my mundane and docile life. They look forward to my visits, as their friends are mostly over the phone friends these days. I help them put away the holiday decorations, as the boxes are just too big to carry down the basement steps. I fix the plumbing, and the electrical, and put up new shelves. These are all things my Father would do on his own, and I know how to do them because he took the time to show me 'how to'.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am conflicted often about having to drop everything and run over to their house. I go, kicking and screaming, and cursing as I drive. I argue with myself at how selfish I appear to be, and how dare you for a second act that ungrateful to the two people who brought you into this world, and gave you so much for so long. I hang my head in shame from the guilt I feel about my thoughts.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, I’ll fix a ceiling fan that’s on the fritz. Mom will hug me for what seems like a full 10 minutes, thanking me profusely. Dad will shake my hand, and pat his Mr. Fixit on the back. And I will leave, with a smile on my face, as I’m reminded that paying it back comes in many different forms. This is my job now, and I’m perfectly suited for it. I’ve got to run for now. It’s pizza night, and a light fixture needs new bulbs.</span></span></span></div></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-83427348677493707702011-03-06T02:22:00.000-05:002011-03-06T02:22:10.567-05:00Living In The Dark<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.6427802960388362" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I just walked all the way to the kitchen, in the dark, reached for a glass in the cupboard, and poured a glass of water from the sink. In the dark. A full glass of water. Not a light on anywhere, and I didn’t spill a drop.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not really groundbreaking material, but it reminded me of why I know how to do that. I’ve always worked in a dimly lit environment, but tonight, this reminded me of why I can do things like this.....</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I grew up near the state school for the blind. In fourth grade, our teacher invited their fourth grade class to spend a day with us, in our classroom. We would share desks with a ‘buddy student’ and spend the day, seeing the world as they see it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My assigned buddy, Darren, was a little taller than me; stocky, and walked with his eyes closed. Odd watching a person walk around this world with their eyes closed. (metaphorically we see it all the time) I guided Darren to the coat room, where he hung his coat on the hook next to mine. He had his hand just on my right elbow, as we navigated through the rows of desks. I bumped into about 3 desks as we reached our seats. He giggled, and commented that “I should know where the desks were.” As we walked, he gently touched each chair and desk.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After our morning studies, Mrs. Jennings instructed us to allow our sight impaired Buddies to lead us to lunch. Darren, got up, put his hand out, and said, “Follow me. I’m starved!” He put my hand on his elbow, and he walked me out of the classroom. As we walked, he told me how many steps it took to get past the 4 desks and chairs, and that we must turn left before the bookshelf, and then take 17 steps to the doorway. We would then go to the right, and as he touched his hand along the wall, he told me it was 5 doors to the lunchroom. He guided us to a table near the windows. He said, “I like to sit in the sun, it feels so nice and warm. Are we having pizza today? It smells like pizza.” I was completely dumbfounded. Darren had been in my school for less than 3 hours, and knew more details about our classroom and building than I did, and I had been there for 4 years!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGd6iwImNyGb6P5Jh8SUakovlwKJItKhFL7Y-hVETFlHzyCJdNu3qUslmRLwozmEb6hUkrbb4A7-KHjeRVFrAFs7vx8DUE-zdOpCpsYm9oeOzU41M90VPOXe7XGX5CtJQ9Cc9LbE-0l89D/s1600/darkhall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGd6iwImNyGb6P5Jh8SUakovlwKJItKhFL7Y-hVETFlHzyCJdNu3qUslmRLwozmEb6hUkrbb4A7-KHjeRVFrAFs7vx8DUE-zdOpCpsYm9oeOzU41M90VPOXe7XGX5CtJQ9Cc9LbE-0l89D/s320/darkhall.jpg" width="213" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can find anywhere in my house now. It’s a matter of closing my eyes, and visualizing what I can actually see every day. I can pour that glass of water, because Darren taught me to listen to the water. As it fills the glass, the noise gets higher in pitch. You can drop a finger over the lip of the glass to make sure you don’t spill anything.</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Darren, thank you for your gift.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-55402106002776710642011-03-02T20:57:00.000-05:002011-03-02T20:57:00.318-05:00Take Notice<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.030808343552052975" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will cut you off as I enter the freeway, even though there are no cars behind you for miles. I’m in far too much of a hurry to use my turn signal, or share a wave of thanks in my rear view mirror as I triple lane change and speed past you at 90 miles per hour.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I will speak loudly on my cell phone while rushing into an already crowded elevator. I will not move to the side as you try to exit, as I’m much to busy relating my graphically detailed exploits from last evening to my BFF on my phone.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the long lunch line at the fast food restaurant, I will complain about the cashier not paying enough attention to me while I order something that’s not on the menu. It’s just the way I like my processed meat sandwich, and I don’t really care that I could pull the pickles and tomatoes off myself. It’s much easier for me to slow down the line. And I said NO ICE, get it right.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s time for me to take another long lunch. No, I don’t really have to pick up the latest CD from Taylor Swift on my lunch, it’s just much easier than trying to fight the store after I clock out. Yeah, I know I was supposed to actually get some work done, but I’m having way too much fun playing Solitaire and Bejeweled on my company computer. I’ll get around to getting some work done sometime. When it’s more convenient for me.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I rush through the open door in front of you, even though you are struggling with your grocery bags. I step over your can of corn that fell out of the bottom of one of your bags. It’s okay, I’m just trying to get to my apartment first so I can turn up my bad music and stomp around on the floor as if I had no neighbors below me. I’m cooking with curry again this evening!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m getting into this already jam-packed subway car. No, I’m not going to let any of the departing passengers off first, I’ll just crowd right in there and turn my Ipod up louder. I will sit in the handicapped seat, even though the poor mother of two on crutches is trying to wrangle her 5 and 7 year old kids while limping on her cast. With my headphones blaring, I’ll just act like I didn’t see her while I fake read my magazine.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am the only person on the planet today.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-39588102258971322042011-02-27T17:15:00.000-05:002011-02-27T17:15:37.003-05:00Mother Nature Has Gone Rogue<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: transparent; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t know why this winter needs to be so god awful long, but apparently, Mother Nature has cancelled Spring. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">AGAIN.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">SnowIceSnowSleetBlizzardIceySnowyMixDriftingWindChillBlizzardFreezingRainSnowIceSnow.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m fed up with you, Mother Nature. We’ve been at odds since oh, I’d say about October, and I’m just tired of asking nicely for 5 full days of sunshine. It can still be cold, I don’t mind the cold, I just miss the sun. Cold isn’t too bad, when you can look upward and get warmth on your face. You know, that big orange ball of light behind the layers upon layers of blanketing gray clouds you’ve sent our way? Stop bogarting the melatonin, bitch! It’s not all about </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">YOU</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, okay? Some of us pale pastey-skinned humans </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">NEED </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">to see the sun, and benefit from it’s rays on occasion. Even when I’ve got SPF 50 and my big sombrero looking gardening hat on, I still like to get a little color from my knees down to my shoes. And occasionally on my forearms, when I’m not wearing my protective armor jacket on my motorcycle. No, a farmer’s tan is quite okay, I’m not asking for the aged leathered old lady in Miami skin. Just a little color would be nice. And no, gray is not a color. Not for skin tone anyways. I’m so white I’m almost clear right now, for chrissakes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All I’m trying to say is that we like to know that the sun is </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">THERE</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, so we can actually go out in it when </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">WE</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> want to.... It’s not something you can just take away and never give back to us. Hey, we devoted alot of our youth to that damned ball of fire, remember? Lazily sunbathing on the front of the boat on Lake Cumberland? Yeah, that was me. Shirts and skins pick-up hoops game at the school yard? Me, again. Frisbee in the back yard with Dad that one summer when I got the big sunburn blister the size of Rhode Island on my shoulder that my sister thought it would be funny to pop by slapping me really really hard? You guessed it, me. A crying, whimpering me, but nonetheless, I liked being out in the sun until I burnt like a french fry. Do I even need to remind you about all the drunken outdoor rock festivals? You were there, you remember, I’m sure...</span><img height="380px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rN3P-ipszoDTLGGXs8PAtkdfRStvqV33x--xufbtHbr0PH8ZYk_1fCSBmEA5CDT1UGgz1Atg6YGIPx8GBogLBLo2f5EnU8g69FyDpZjC07wBOSv2wQ8" width="380px;" /><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All I’m asking for is one more chance to look like a raccoon one more time. I like wearing my Oakleys all summer, you know. Just asking for a chance to do it in the next couple of weeks, old girl. What do ya say? Maybe you could throw us a solar bone? If not for me, do it for the little bunnies. I wanna see the little wild bunnies hop across my lawn, because they’re just so snuggily and cuddily cute and adorable. Come on, do it for them.</span></span></div></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-20872487047995585322011-02-26T11:09:00.000-05:002011-02-26T11:09:46.253-05:00And The Award Goes To.....<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.7079208311624825" style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So this chicka <a href="http://erraticquestions.blogspot.com/">Hannah,</a> dropped an award on me, because she's got a big crush on me an stalks my page like I'm made out of chocolate filling. I graciously accept my award, and pass on the required information below... THANK YOU HANNAH!!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_-IGn5VY6M4moKFZ4BYP1tILbHLkeH8AR2Y3XCVXUHGxBZsVFyjE47JvXs6r57m1aCJ5WEKpPH-90RxQTjyNzZGQqO-SsdhSyYVV4sKNKLORzEBuDuUIXGbnpZ4htth_GAlGL1YzsvNx/s1600/stylish-blogger-252baward2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI_-IGn5VY6M4moKFZ4BYP1tILbHLkeH8AR2Y3XCVXUHGxBZsVFyjE47JvXs6r57m1aCJ5WEKpPH-90RxQTjyNzZGQqO-SsdhSyYVV4sKNKLORzEBuDuUIXGbnpZ4htth_GAlGL1YzsvNx/s1600/stylish-blogger-252baward2.jpg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.7079208311624825" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; white-space: pre-wrap;">To accept the award, I am required to write seven things about myself, eh? Well this will be difficult, as I am in witness protection, and cannot divulge too much personal information. Here goes!!</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">1: I believe in reincarnation. I have to, I’ve screwed this life up pretty bad, so I’m hoping for a do-over. No really, I’ve been here before. Why else would I have no patience for stupid?</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">2: I believe we are all created in God’s image. Some of you were created when God was hungover.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">3: As a dear friend recently revealed, yes, I was in marching band in high school. And orchestra. And jazz band. And symphonic band. And a rock band. And a country band. Call me a band fag, and I’ll do pentatonic triplets ON YOUR FACE.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">4: I am pro capital punishment. I am also pro corporal punishment. I think the latter helps prevent the former.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5: If I ever went to Sturgis or Daytona Bike Week, I would actually ride my motorcycle there, not put it on a trailer and haul it. Because my motorcycle already has EFFING WHEELS on it, and that’s why it also has a seat. SO YOU CAN RIDE IT.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">6: I wear my hair cut short. Real short. Razor cut short. In the shower.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: white; font-size: 13pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">7: I like long walks on the beach, Fuzzy Navels, snuggling under a blanket by the fire, and my favorite movie is Death Proof.</span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-27992822029311938902011-02-23T01:12:00.000-05:002011-02-23T01:12:02.915-05:00Where It All Started<div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Ive been trying to think of where my love affair with writing began. I’ve tried over the years to come up with silly little stories, and it’s been fun off and on to see what comes out of my head.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some months ago, I was encouraged by a dear friend who pointed out that I should be writing. She felt that I had enough skill, and why not try writing, and share your observations and humor with the masses? She was, and still is, my muse, and an ardent supporter. I will be eternally grateful to her for pushing me to try writing again. She is very dear to me......</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">When I set out to do this blog, I chose to take a road less traveled..... There are some wonderful storytellers out there in the blogosphere, and I admired their ability to spin a tale. So I said, “Why not try that path?” Come up with two stories a week, create them, edit, and post. So far, I’ve been generally satisfied with my efforts.</span></div><div style="background-color: transparent; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I started to think about when I first remember enjoying writing. It had to be freshman English class in college. (there were to be no more English classes after that one, I ran out of money for tuition) Our professor asked us to write a “process paper”. We were instructed to describe in detail, the process of doing something. It was up to us to decide what that process would be. We would edit our papers twice weekly in class, switching with another student and helping them by editing their paper for them. Pretty simple stuff, even for freshman English.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My professor questioned me each editing day, asking me, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“Where is your paper, sir?”</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> “I will turn in a completed paper at the end of this exercise.” He was not happy, because with an even number of students in the class, I was the wrench in the works! I’m throwing off the whole system by not having a paper to edit!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The morning it was due, I sat at the typewriter (that’s a thingie that people used to write with before these here lappy toppy thingies.) and prepared my outline, according to the requirements for the class. I then typed my paper, off the top of my head, and hurried to class, arriving only a few minutes late. My professor scowled as I flopped into my seat, and handed him my paper.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He rolled his eyes as he said, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>“Are you satisfied with your submission, sir?</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">” I nodded yes, with my cheshire cat grin.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The following week, my paper returned to me. I received an A- for my last minute efforts. The topic of my process paper you ask?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 11pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i><u>“How To Procrastinate While Writing An English Paper.”</u></i></span></span></div>.end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6488829384708819450.post-12911659859093352432011-02-21T20:21:00.000-05:002011-02-21T20:21:20.139-05:00I got nuthin'I never do this. I've got nothing saved back, and I've got nothing to write about. Literally. It's either rain, sleet, freezing rain, or snow storms, so no outside activities, unless you call falling on your ass on the way to the car an activity.<br />
<br />
This is a rare occasion, minions. I will get back on track in a day or so. I've been arriving at work in the dark, and going home in the same, going on 3 weeks now. Sleep, laundry, work, repeat. I'll get back to normal in a few days, now that I'm coming up on a couple of weekend days off. Oh, okay, just one, but I'm planning on catching anal glaucoma on Friday.<br />
<br />
See you soon. Miss you all..end transmission.http://www.blogger.com/profile/11100368775312320957noreply@blogger.com7