I'm Back-ish!

New stage in my life, I think. Actually, just a new abode. We moved from the old house to this kind of newer apartment building. For me, moving to a new house is a new stage. There's a whole bunch of things I have to get used to again. For example, I have to get used to the fact that I'm going to have to unpack that stupid box eventually so that people don't keep tripping over it. It's not even filled with anything cool. Come to think of it, the only thing I know for sure is in there is a tipped over cup of thumb tacks. Where the heck am I going to put those? I suppose I could tack them into the wall and make something artsy out of them...no, that's stupid. You can't make anything artsy with just multicolored thumb tacks. At least, I can't. Well, I can, but I really don't think it would be worth my time.


Anyway, the new place is kind of nice. It has two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen/dining room, a bathroom/laundry room, and several closets. Perfect for three bachelors. I've gotten used to the new carpet smell, and I think it's because everything in the house smells like it now.


I almost want to post pictures of the new place here so you all can see it, but I don't know...there are a lot of creepy stalker-type people on teh interwebz. I don't feel like giving them pictures of my new sanctuary. YOU HEAR ME, CREEPY STALKERS?! YOU CANNOT HAZ MAH HAOUUUUUUSSSS!!!!


So, I just wanted to post this here, let you know that I might start blogging again. I've been kept away by one or two really really awesome TV shows. But now they're done, so I have an obligation to put my mind to work in some other way.


Hope.


You.


Are.


Happy...

Now You've Done It

Now you've done it. You said something that implied that you're gay, and now she'll never think of you as anything other than "my gay best friend."

Now you've done it. You tried to make it a dirty joke, but it just turned out dirty. There was nothing "joke" about it. He may have lost a little respect for you just now.

Now you've done it. You just realized that your fly was undone pretty much all day. Awkward.

So, today's post is about awkward moments, and how to get the heck out of them.

Getting out of awkward situations is an art. For millenia, humans have been human, which means that pretty much everyone has been in an awkward moment since Adam started wearing fig leaves. Yet, we still seem to have trouble fishing ourselves out of a sticky situation.

The key to getting yourself out of an awkward moment is by playing up how awkward it is. It's already a weird situation, so why not go ahead and publicly acknowledge it? If you're going to acknowledge it, why not make it fun and see how far you can take it before the other person is weirded out or disgusted by you? That way, in the end, you can always say it was planned or just a joke. Let's take a look at the examples I listed above.

Okay, so you implied that you're gay on accident. What was it you said exactly? Let's take a look back - You: Oh yeah! Me and Keith sometimes sit on the love sack and share a bucket of ice cream while watching Sex & the City. - Now that's just bad mouth control on your part. How are you going to keep her from thinking you're gay? 'Cause you know, if she thinks you're gay, you're chance to hit that goes out the window. Stay calm. Here's what you do: First, you play it up by saying something like, "Whoa! That sounds gay...Yeah, me and Keith, we sit on the love sack together, but we don't cuddle or anything. And we do share a bucket of ice cream, but we each use our own spoon...but we are totally not gay! If there was one thing in a million that we weren't, it would be that we're not gay. I actually really do like boobs and what not. Keith is kinda flat and hairy...not to mention he's a guy...anyway..." Second, you throw the ball in her court to get her mind off you, "So, do you watch Sex & the City?" She's either going to say, "Oh my gosh, YES! I LOVE IT" or "uh...no." As long as you get her to think about the show, and not how gay you just made yourself look, you're on your way to safety. Lastly, you flatter her. Who cares if you actually think her outfit looks like she poured blended bunnies on piss colored fabric! Flatter her! Flatter her till your flattery makes no sense at all! The more you get her feeling good or self conscious about her image, the less she focuses on your awkward, gay mistake.

SO, dirty jokes. Nobody appreciates a good dirty joke like I do, especially if it's a "that's what she said" joke. Some TWSS's can be so freaking clever, it's unbelievable! The subtler you are, the awesomer the joke is. But this time, you screwed up. You just dropped the ball on this one. Your boobs are saggy and wrinkled, if boobs were a metaphor for dirty jokes. What was it you said, exactly?...in retrospect, I'd better not repeat what it was. It was pretty bad. Now you and your friend feel like you've been swimming in sin. Don't worry, stay calm. First, play it up by saying something like, "Whoa! That was uncalled for. I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I was thinking. I mean, I guess I was thinking it was gonna be funny, but it clearly wasn't. I was just trying to do it right and I failed. And you know that that's what she said!" Good. You turned your excuse for a bad joke into a TWSS. He loves those jokes as much as you do. Second, change the topic. Talk about that new film you watched last night. Talk about how you think your butt still looks good in skinny jeans. Talk about whether or not you think shaved cats are still cute. Anything to get his mind off your awful dirty joke. Lastly, flatter him. Who cares if you think his outfit looks like he borrowed newspapers from the hobos that live next to the Poor People's Swap 'n' Shop and made clothes out of them! Flatter him! Flatter him till you start thinking that newspaper shirt actually looks kinda nice! The more you get him thinking about how awesome he'd look at the Hobo-Model Runway, the less he's thinking about how dirty he feels because of your bad joke.

Your fly was undone all day. Everyone just about got a good glimpse of your Perky Perry or your Harry Hoo Hoo. This is one is a bit harder to get out of, because you risk sounding like an idiot, and you might ruin your image a little bit. But sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do. Am I right? Okay, first of all, stay calm. Who cares if your fly was down! Be proud of it! You have nothing to hide! You are proud of your...erm...pride! Calmly zip up your pants and grin from ear to ear. Second, make up some story about how good air circulation has scientifically been proven to decrease the number of non functional sperm/eggs. Also, you don't sweat as much. People will think you're making some kind of joke, then they'll laugh at you. This is okay, though! You want them to not be thinking about your Jimmy Jenkins. Now they think that you're clever, or so confident that you don't even feel embarrassed about being caught with your fly down. Lastly, flatter them. Who cares if you think their pants look like they were made with afterbirth and then dipped in guano! Flatter them! Flatter them till they are convinced that walking around with their fly down is awesome! The more you get them thinking about their own zippers and Pecky Peters the less they'll be thinking about yours...unless of course the whole point was to get them to notice you in the first place...that's for a different blog post though.

This is pretty much the way I've been getting myself out of awkward moments for most of my life. It makes your life interesting, and you may find that people will like you more for it.

She's The One For Me

Last week I visited my family in Chicago. We had a jolly good time talking, reminiscing, etc. During one of my conversations with my mom, the question came up: What is your type of girl?

Honestly, I really have to think hard about this one. I dated an amazing girl for five years or so, but it ended up not working out, and that's okay. It's better to have loved and lost than to stop loving someone you end up living with forever.

In many ways, I don't think this post will do my future woman justice. It's hard to know everything about someone you're interested in. There are so many variables that can make or break a relationship. I hate trying to rationalize these kinds of things because love, after all, is not rational. Even if the person of interest matches your criteria for "Future Mr./Mrs. Me," you might find out that what you think you wanted in a person is not actually what you really wanted. A little confusing, but, c'est la vie (French for: it's life). On the other hand, he/she may be the complete opposite of what you were hoping for, and somehow you end up falling in love. That's how it is with my parents. They're both so different from each other, but they seem to love each other. I mean, they did have four kids together and are still happily married. Maybe they're happily married because they needed each other to survive the holocaust that is having four kids like my siblings and me...

However, if you were to point a gun to my head and force me to describe the girl I want for me, I suppose I would give it my best shot. So here goes. You're not holding a gun to my head, but for your sake, I'm pretending that you are. Not sure where this is going so I'll get back on track.

I really could do a better job of showing this, but my faith is very important to me. It seems cliché, but there's a reason so many couples need a common faith to keep them together. Faith means to believe with conviction in something you can't grasp physically. If you have faith, you're going to have values and morals that support what you believe. If I'm going to spend the rest of my life with someone, we had better share the same values or we will never see eye to eye.

Obviously, beauty is a factor. But this doesn't mean I hope she looks like a model. Please feed yourself, future Mrs. Me! I've always felt that a person is as beautiful as they feel. My type of girl would feel confident in her own appearance. I know everyone has things about themselves they don't like, but this goes beyond thinking you look perfect. Carry yourself with pride in who you are! So you have a pimple on your nose, or freckles on your skin, so what! You were made in the semblance of someone bigger and more beautiful than life. In other words, you were made beautiful. The more confident you are in that little fact, the more beautiful you are to those around you.

My kind of girl would acknowledge that you can't get everything you want, but would still not be afraid to dream. More importantly she would not be afraid to try to make her dream a reality. We live in hard times. Having something to work for gives you direction and purpose. It motivates you and shapes the way you live your life. Also, then your life will be more like a graceful antelope and less like a limp noodle. Not sure where that was going so I'll get back on track.

Love offers a lot of happiness, but also an equal amount of hardships. Sometimes you need to give something up for the person you love. My girl would understand the importance of sacrifice. How can you say you truly love someone if you aren't willing to give up something that's better for you for something that's better for both of you? Obviously, individuals in a relationship are important. But the awesome thing about love is that it needs to grow beyond the self of each person involved for it to work. There are different levels of sacrifice, but someone who truly loves you will be happy with the sacrifice no matter how big or small. You can't buy that kind of companionship.

I want to be respected. I want to be respected as person. I want to be respected as a man. I don't feel like this needs explaining.

I want her to think I'm funny! If I can't make her laugh, how will I ever know if she's happy? Also, nobody likes to laugh alone, unless you're that loser weirdo who actually does like to laugh alone....I do sometimes....It would be nice if she thinks my sense of humor is actually funny, and not so stupid that she gives me pity laughs for trying so hard. I would like her laughs to be genuine. Which leads me to my next point.

I would like her to be genuine. If you have a problem with the way I do something, tell me! If you love the way I do something, please tell me! I don't want you to have to fake having fun. Why make yourself suffer that way? The most awesome girls are the ones that don't hide behind the person they think everyone will like. That's right. I'm saying if you're not yourself, you are unawesome. I might even go as far as saying if you're not yourself, you're a smelly fish turd. You don't want to be that do  you?

I realize I've been switching between second and third person for my direct object. Just bare with me. Up yours, otherwise.

Please be supportive. It can be difficult to keep the love flames burning if only one person is doing the supporting. I don't feel like this needs explaining.

Have an open mind. The hardest kind of girl to love is the one that is always right. Okay, I know girls are actually always right, but throw me a bone here. If I have an idea that I think might be cool, don't shoot me down. I guess if you really really really don't want to me to follow through with it you could say something like, "Are you sure that's a good idea?" or something that isn't really aggressive. Maybe I'm asking for too much. Yeah, you're right. You're always right. Forget I said anything.

I shouldn't have to say this, but love should obviously be a factor. I'm not going to go into detail here. I just wanted to say it so you would know I actually think this is important. I guess if you really want my take on what love entails, write it in a comment below or text me or whatever.

I feel like the list could go on, but like I said, I don't like to rationalize this kind of thing. I might meet her and find out I love her even though she's a complete...well...she might be reading this, so I'll stop while I'm ahead. No reason to have marital strife before the marital part has become reality.

And Mom, sorry I didn't tell you this when we were talking about it. Actually, the two days after you asked me this question, I spent a lot of it thinking and mulling this question over in my head.

I hope this has given everyone a satisfactory inside look into what I think my kind of girl is. If not...well...not much I can do for you...

Seraph (Prologue)

I have finally made some headway with my fantasy story. The title of the story is Seraph. The following is still a rough draft (actually, it's my first draft), but I thought it was clean enough to give you all a sneak peek.

Seraph: Prologue

                Long ago, when Time had not yet been born, there was Erhu. Erhu lived alone in Eternum. Time and Space, Life and Death, none of them was yet in existence. Erhu began to grow lonely, so he created four beings to live with him fill the void of his loneliness, thus becoming the First Creator.

                First he created Expansum, or Space, in our tongue. Upon Expansum he entrusted the task of creating a world that was pleasing to him. And so, the world of Effendrim was born. Expansum forged mighty mountains and rolling rivers, lush valleys and arid deserts, cool ponds and vast oceans, and Erhu was very pleased.

                Second, Kronnus, or Time, was born. Upon Kronnus was entrusted the task of recording and organizing the events proceeding creation. Every action, physical and ethereal, was written down by Kronnus in the Scroll of Time.

                Third came Zivo, Life. Zivo’s task was to create living beings to populate the world of Effendrim. Everything that now draws breath was created by Zivo.

                Among the creatures created by Zivo was humankind, the most precious to Erhu. Of all Zivo’s creatures, man was the one that closest resembled the First Creator. Erhu bestowed upon them riches and gifts, and they grew to love him dearly. But Zivo had made man’s heart weak, and blackness soon began to grow, filling minds with greed and jealousy. Erhu’s gifts had ultimately made man scorn beautiful Effendrim and lust after the power the creators possessed. An army was raised to strike Erhu and his three children from Eternum and seize their seats of power. In man’s repeated and relentless attempts to breach the Heavens, Effendrim was ravaged by fire and destruction. Erhu grieved deeply for the ruined beauty of Effendrim, and more so for the corrupted hearts of mankind.

                And so, Nekros, Death, was created. So grieved by was Erhu by man that he gave Nekros the task of bringing all life to an end after a time. Every man was given a brief moment of life to mend the wounds caused in Effendrim. At the end, Nekros would come for their souls.

                The sentence of Death led many of the first humans to repent and strive to make amends. But many also remained who hated Erhu and his now repentant followers. Their loyalties divided, two factions were formed. Those loyal to Erhu became the empire of Orda. Those who still hated became the kingdom of Eris. Eris and Orda have been in an endless war since then, Orda, defending Erhu and those loyal to him, and Eris, still attempting to slaughter their way to Eternum and wrest Erhu’s power by force.

                For four thousand years Orda and Eris have been fighting. The death toll increases daily, as does Nekros' soul harvest. 

And there you have it! The first draft of any complete thought for the fantasy short story (but I think it won't actually be THAT short).

Please feel free to leave comments or suggestions in the section below. :)

The Elusive Sandman

It's hard to say when he left the room. I would say he was never there in the first place, but the little piles of sand prove otherwise. The only thing I can say for sure is that it's 5:15 a.m. right now and I'm not asleep. Could it be that I'm distressed because he left little dumps of dirt all over my floor? Maybe I'm upset because he was creepin' in my room while I tried to sleep. In any case, I'm awake, and it's his fault.


Seriously, man. You've been doing this job for at least three hundred years. Maybe age is finally catching up to you? I mean, I suppose lugging around an eternally heavy bag of sand from room to room can get tiring, but you're not even human. You should be able to do this without getting tired or sloppy. I work at a place where the customer is always a priority. I know I don't pay you for gunking up the corners of my eyes with sleepy powder, but I still should be your top priority, especially if you're gonna be creepin' in my digs!


You know what happens when I can't sleep? My mind wanders. You name the fantastical place, my mind has been there. I've seen three horned unicorns (yes, I know, that would technically make it a tricorn, but in my mind it made sense), gumdrop waterfalls, pickle orchards, talking mushrooms, poor leprechauns, rich beggars, trees with teeth, trees with wings, trees with girlfriends...the list literally goes on forever. Now whenever I try to sleep I'm terrified. I'm beginning to think I might not be as sane as I was hoping.


I don't know, I guess I should be thankful that you put sand in my eyes and not in my pants. Waking up with dirt in your crack doesn't sound pleasant. Speaking of cracks, all that dirt that you spilled on your way in/out of my room, it doesn't fall between the floor boards. You could at least sweep it under the rug or something.


Ugh, now that I'm actually trying to be creative I feel you creepin'. My eyelids are getting heavier as we speak. You sneaky, sneaky villain! You don't let me sleep when I want to, you don't let me stay awake long enough to try to be creative.


OKAY! FINE! You win. I'm going to bed. But I'd better fall asleep dang near right away or there will be dunes of pain coming your way. I'm not sure how to catch a sandman, but I'm guessing you really wouldn't like a glass of water dumped into your sandbag.


You've been warned, Sandman. I sleep, or your precious sleepy sand gets the precious wakey water.

Unleash the Storm!

It has been tornado junction in this part of the Midwest. Two days in a row we've had tornado warnings/sightings/etc. Now, I've never actually seen a tornado in real life before, so this had me pretty excited. Not "excited," as in, you're going to DisneyWorld, yay, you're so excited. I mean "excited," as in, oh my gosh I just got a text message maybe I do have friends I'm so excited!...It's going to be really awkward if I find out that I'm the only one that gets that excited over a text message...


Anyway, I decided that I'm going to quit my job at the restaurant. I've decided to become a storm chaser! Have you ever watched that show on Discovery Channel? I think it was called "Storm Chasers" or something...but in this show, they drive up to a random pavement, drop some cone thingy with camera jiggers in it, and drive away. The little cameras then record rubble (that's right.....rubble. "Rubble," as in, little pieces of dirt and pebbles and poop) as it flies around the cone. Among other things, this gives the storm chasers how fast the wind spins around/inside a tornado.


That's what I want to do. Well, I don't want to stop driving and leave the comfort of my seat. And...I don't want to carry a heavy surveillance device that would slow me down when I need to be uber fast so I don't get blown to death by a tornado. Also, I don't really care how fast the tornado is spinning, I just want to chase it. So, I guess there's really only one thing I want to do from that Discovery Channel show.


First thing I need to do, is get some wheels. I don't think my friends would appreciate getting tornado poop all over their car. So, I guess I'm going to need some money. I guess that means I can't quit my job.


Oh well, I tried. A cool dream has come and gone. I can't wait to find out what the next one will be!

To My Brother From the Same Mother

I want to take a moment to publicly recognize someone who is very important to me. This person has been, in many ways, my role model, my guide, and my inspiration for who I've decided to become. Acting as my conscience, adviser, mentor, and keeper, this person has done so much for me and I have never taken the time to thank him. Daniel, brother, this one is for you.


Few people know you, bro, the way I do. Years of living with you have taught me to be able to see behind your eyes and into a deep, contemplative, complicated mind. You have always been a thinker, and by that I mean you would actually go places alone and do nothing but think. You would think about books that you've read (and you've read a lot of books), movies you've seen, people you've heard, and you would try to make them all work together, just to see if it was possible. I think your college years were your happiest. You had a chance to read more books, watch more movies, listen to more people, and do much more thinking. Eventually, you hoped you would get the chance to put all of that thinking to the test.


Then came life after college. I think it's safe to say that life after college is pretty much never what graduates expect. You weren't able to find a job consistent with your degree right away, but that was no big surprise. Almost no one does. You tried being a sales representative. As someone who's been there, I can say that it must have sucked hard core. I was always impressed with how you stuck with it and always came back with a goofy grin because something weird happened to you that day. When I was a sales representative, I just came back tired and cranky. Anyway, it just seemed like your life was full of adventure, especially when you almost died in Peru or wherever. That was quite a story to hear!


However fun or adventurous your life may seem on the outside, I know that it must cause you quite a bit of stress and pain. How could it not? Being on the verge of poverty has been something you and I have grown up with, but it has never been something to get used to. We've both been scratching and scraping to pay off college debt, and it never seems to end. I know our lives have not been the stuff from fairy tales where they live happily ever after. I know that we've both done things that we will regret for the rest of our lives because we can't forgive ourselves even though every one else already has. We both have been living lives that punch us in the face and kick us while we're down. I've tried to imagine myself not stressing over money, but that seems like an impossibility. I know you have probably been thinking the same. I also know that you probably have many more problems that I may never hear about. But I do know that you will come out winning, like you always have.


So when you feel like tearing at your hair and crying out, "what the hell am I supposed to do now," consider everything our family has gone through and still come out alive on the other end. We lived in a country where corruption was a way of life, but Mom and Dad fought the flow and held fast to their moral standards. Even though doing business honestly was not the most profitable way to live, we are still alive. Remember how our uncle would criticize Americans until we were bleeding from the ears from listening to him? He wasn't the only man like that. The majority of the people in our neighborhood hated Americans, for no good reason, but we are still alive. When we moved back to the United States, we came poor and we stayed poor. Job after job, problem after problem, it just seems like life keeps pelting us with shit, but we are still alive.


Sometimes, life is just hard to live. We live in difficult times, and it seems like everyone in our family has a shit magnet stuck to our backs. Everywhere we go, trouble follows. We can't seem to get a break. I know this has been the case for you. It has been for me as well. But don't think for a second that your problems are your fault! Life has a way of testing you, of tempering you until you are nigh unbreakable. Daniel, you have been through more problems than anyone else I know, and you've always come back up swinging your fists for more. Yes, you would get beat down, but then you would get up and puff up your chest in defiance as if to say, "Is that really all you've got?" Mom always talks about how problems roll off of me like water on duck feathers. What she probably didn't realize is that I have become that way from watching you. Your ability to have an unshakable faith in God being right, no matter what the circumstance, has always been your greatest quality. The meaning of the name Daniel is: God is my judge. This means that the only living being to be able to dictate your life is God himself. What a terrifying and comforting realization, knowing that there is literally nothing in the world that can stop you from achieving your dreams because God is the only one that can actually tell you "no."


If you ever feel like you are under appreciated, first of all, forgive me for not thanking you for being my keeper. But also know that there are many people who have been positively affected by you, possibly without realizing it. You have never been a man of many words, bro, but we all know that actions speak louder; you have always been a man of action, and that is what everyone is going to see. People can see your integrity, your honesty, your desire for the good of humankind. You have the heart of a stalwart defender, a fierce attacker, and a caring steward. People see this in you. We can see that you are what it means to have faith the size of mustard seed and still be able to move mountains. Maybe it doesn't seem that way to you, but that's only because you can't feel the weight you've lifted from my shoulders time after time.


If you feel like nobody cares about you, you've never been more mistaken. Mom and Dad planned you. You weren't a broken prophylactic. Mom and Dad loved you before you were an embryo...and then they made you and embryo, but we don't have to go into details. Your siblings have always cared about you too. We may have teased and pestered you, but that's only because we find ourselves unable to express our undying respect and envy of the person you've become. And of course, never forget that God nailed eternal proof of his love for you on a common crucible so that all people, dead and living, could see that you are someone for whom he gives a damn. Bro, that kind of love can't be severed by a thousand swords. There is no pit in Hell hot enough to consume the love directed toward you.


I wrote this because, as I've said, I've never taken the time to thank you for being my big brother. Reading over this post, I can see that it could bear to be revised and polished, but I choose to leave it as is. I wrote this from the heart. You deserve to have my thanks in its raw form. Maybe that only actually makes sense to me and not to anyone else....The point is, you are who I want to be when I grow up (I still have quite a bit of growing to do I think). Thanks for being my moral compass. Thanks for being the one to side with me when no one else would. Thanks for lending a helpful hand when mine are full.


Thanks for being my brother.

Guilt Tripping

If you know me, you know that I'm a super nice guy. I might be too nice, in fact. I'm so nice, if you asked me to give you a bite of my sandwich, I would. I'm so nice, if you asked me to give you a thigh massage, I would. I'm so nice, if you asked me to take off my clothes and give it to you, I would. In short, I'm kind of a push over. Please don't make me do stuff...

I actually might not do everything I said I would, but if you really really wanted me to, you would just have to guilt me into it. My biggest weakness is other people's vulnerability, especially if it's a girl/lady/crone. If you ask me to do something and it looks like I really don't want to, here's a list of things you can do to get me to change my mind:

Guilt Tripping Techniques

• Look down at your toes. It makes you look dejected.
• Do that puppy eye thing. Seriously, my freakin' kryptonite.
• Threaten to end our friendship if I don't comply.
• Whine.
• Pretend to ask other people to do it and not find anyone that's willing to help you.
• Tell me that I'm your last resort. That will offend me, since you thought about me last, making me want to show you up by doing what you ask me to do.
• After I say "no," don't say anything. If you don't say anything you make me feel like I killed your guinea pig.
• Whine.
• Tell me that I'm a good person and I'm the only one that ever does anything for you. Why would I want to prove you wrong?
• Say there's a baby involved. Any baby but mine will do.
• Pretend to cry. Don't worry if you're bad at acting. It actually still works on me. Not even joking.
• Whine.
• Say something like, "Remember the time when you told me you'd help me?" It doesn't matter if it's not true. I have so little faith in my memory, I'll probably believe you.
• Ask repeatedly. It's like hitting someone time after time with a spoon. Eventually something will break.
• Of course, whine.

I'm sure there are more ways you could guilt me into doing things. It's not hard. I've tried, on occasion, to try to just say "no" and walk away, the idea being that I would become a little less of a push over. What actually happens when I say "no" is that little parts of me die inside. The little dead parts stay in me for the rest of the day. I lose sleep over it. I lose my appetite. I repeatedly kick myself mentally. It's a pretty serious emotional attack.

The magic of the whole shebang is that "guilt" implies I've done something wrong, even when that isn't necessarily the case. So when you make me feel like I'm hurting you by saying "no," you wreak mental, psychological, and emotional havoc on my insides. Imagine throwing an assortment of fuzzy little rodents in a powered blender. Imagine being the little bird the cuckoo pushes out of the nest. Imagine a happy family of sea squirrels getting mauled by sharks. That is what you do to me when you guilt trip me. Maybe you're the one who should be feeling guilty next time!

Short Story "Teaser Trailer"

I would like to thank all those of you who voted and helped me pick a genre for my short story! The winning category was FANTASY!

I don't want to give away too much, but I will tell you this: The main character's name is Seraph. He belongs to a centuries old order of holy protectors of the empire he lives in. His empire and an opposing empire have been at war for a long, long time. Both empires are aided by deities, Seraph's empire by one, the enemy empire by at least four.

I'd like to offer an opportunity to you, as a gift for being faithful readers. I'm having trouble coming up with a names for characters that will be in the story. I have a concept for what I want some of the characters to be like, but they're just ideas without names right now. If you would like your name to be in the story, go ahead and type your name in the comment section below. You can submit your name as is, or you can alter it to sound "fantasyish."

Don't be afraid! I would be thrilled to have you in my story! :)

Also, based on the number of comments I had when I asked for votes on a genre, I think it might be safe to say that everyone who submits his/her name will be in the story. So don't worry about being outsubmitted!

The Cuckoo Bird

Recently I've been having a little bit of writer's block. Actually, I didn't really realize I had it until I sat down in front of the screen just now. What causes writer's block? In my case, not being able to do something that I'm usually able to do is caused by something new taking up space in my mind. 

Are you familiar with the cuckoo bird? When it's time for the mother cuckoo to lay her egg, she hides among the bushes, waiting, watching for other mother birds to leave their nests. When she spots a mother bird leaving her nest to find food, the cuckoo flies to the nest, lays her egg, and leaves. When the baby cuckoo hatches, it wobbles around in the nest, pushing the other baby birds or eggs over the edge. This ensures that the baby cuckoo is the only one left to feed when the mother of the other birds returns. It's brutal. It's cruel. It's heartless. And it's just what that new something does to my creativity.

Sometimes finding the baby cuckoo of my creativity helps me get back on track. But identifying the little jerk isn't easy. Am I being distracted by a new game I've gotten into? Am I thinking about a girl? Am I hungry? Am I concerned that I'm dreaming about banging faulty grenades against hard surfaces to make them blow up? It could be none of the above. The dumb thing is it could also be all of the above, i.e., a girl that's distracting me with a new game when I'm hungry and also asleep, dreaming about banging faulty grenades against hard surfaces. That's the only way I can rationalize it.

Of course, writer's block doesn't have to be caused by something blind, naked, and ugly, like the evil cuckoo demon-bird-baby from hell (I decided to add some adjectives. What kind of baby kills other people's babies?!). It could be something awesome or beautiful that's just so good, it distracts from the task at hand. For example, it could be a new game you just got into. It could be a girl. It could also be a dream about trying to blow up grenades that just won't blow up. Who cares if they do, you're asleep and you can't die. How awesome is that? See what I did there? Two different points of view for the same problem. I'm a freakin' genius.

Sometimes the best way to deal with a problem is to use the problem against itself. Like what I'm doing here: instead of being a pee pants about my literary inhibition, I'm making it the source of my creative awesome. Do you have problems that you're stressing over? Try this approach. It might work. Okay, let's say that your in-laws are over at your place. Big problem. You hate your in-laws. They're always talking about how your husband/wife was better off before you got married. Also, they hate your new hair cut. Don't worry. All you have to do is get them to start talking about themselves. Ask them about their dog, Mufasa. Didn't he have some problem with his whatever? So how is he now? Oh my, you had to get him neutered! I would not like to be in his position. Yes, I can understand why that would make you feel terrible. How could you not? You basically just shot Mufasa's legacy in the jewels!

See? You got them to talk about themselves, completely forgetting you in the process. Of course, if you have a really good relationship with your in-laws you won't have to try this. And if you do, you came up with the idea on your own, you understand? Note: I would like to apologize to any in-laws who might have been offended. I'm not married, so I don't have any, but in case you read this after I marry your daughter, you have my sincerest apologies.

So, what do you do when the baby cuckoo pushes your creativity babies out of your nest? Do you pout and stomp away like a little girl (I'm not being sexist...that's just what little girls do...)? Do you man up and kick your creative block in the ass (I'm not being sexist...that's just what men do. That's why we say man up...)? Note: I would like to apologize to any girls who might have been offended while reading this paragraph. There is no way I think guys are superior to girls. That would be silly! That would be like saying a king is superior to a queen, or that the father is the head of the family, which, of course, is untrue and absurd. I'm not married, but just in case my future wife is reading this, you have my sincerest apologies, my love. I'll make you a candlelit dinner with wine to make up for it.

Why Did I Trust You?

Why did I trust you, o, bagel toaster?

Why did I let you heat up my snack?

All I asked for was a slightly crispy treat.

Instead, you mock me and char my meal to a cracker thin crisp.

There will be no bagel phoenix rising from my bagel ashes.

There will be no salvation for my food condemned to Hell.

I asked for a golden, honeyed brown.

You gave me firewood instead, and turned my smile upside down.

This layer of cream cheese barely masks the flavor of your prank.

I can taste forever the cancer you seared on my plate.

There will be no next time, demon bagel toaster from Hell.

I will never again fall prey to your heinous misdeeds.

Prepare to meet your maker, ogre spawn from the murky below.

Where once you had a friend in me, now I am your darkest foe.

Choose Your Destiny...

Alright, blog fans! Today's post is going to be quite short, and here's why: I decided that it'd be cool to write a short story of some sort, but I can't decide on the genre. I'm going to list a few of the ideas I have in mind. What I need you to do is to vote on which one you want to read most.

Pick Your Story:

1. Mystery: This will be heavily influenced by Sir Arhtur Conan Doyle's work. It will probably be nowhere near as epic as the Sherlock Holmes stories, but I'll give it my best.
2. Fantasy: I'm not sure how I would do this one. I'm not sure whether to create my own creatures or to draw from other works (meaning, use the typical fantasy creatures: dwarves, dragons, elves, fairies, etc.).
3. Historical Fiction: I love history. Protagonists for this short story will likely be selected from the Renaissance or earlier (Rome, Greece, Vikings, etc.).
4. Romance: I've never written a romance, and I don't really think I could write one that is convincing and not extremely sappy. But I'm willing to give it a go and be subject to criticism.
5. Zombie Apocalypse: The whole point of a zombie apocalypse is to stay alive. The best way I could think of making this worth your while is by making it a "choose your own adventure" kind of story. This would take considerably more work on my part, by I believe it could be fun.

And there you have it! To vote, just post a comment in the comment section below, stating which genre you would like me to write. If you know my phone number, a text message is acceptable too.

Your Worst Enemy...Is YOU!!!

Almost everyone has a time in life when he/she goes through a process where they realize they aren't who they should/want to be. This leads to varying degrees of identity crises, during which the individual goes through personal transformation. What does he/she hope to accomplish through this metamorphosis? Generally, self fulfillment.

Self fulfillment can mean a lot of things, but the best way to explain it is that it's when someone (let's aka this someone as Keith) feels satisfied with who he is. This often means that Keith will either change until people think he's socially acceptable. Or Keith will just decide he doesn't really care what other people think. Actually, the "I don't care what people think" stance is sort of weird because most people that "don't care what people think" are people who want to be seen by others as the people who "don't care what people think," which mean that they actually do care what people think because they want to be viewed a certain way by society. That was quite a mouthful. And that's what she said.

But seriously, how many of you have not been through this stage? If you haven't, you probably will at some point in your life. Take me for example: I'm a single, sexy, bachelor on the prowl. But right now I'm a bit self conscious of a certain protrusion (mah belleh!) that I keep trying to hide when I meet people. Did you not get the "mah belleh" reference? One sec....

Yeah...if you haven't guessed, the protrusion I spoke of is mah gutsikinz, my tub of happiness, my frontal camel hump, my "wiggle him and see him jiggle", the place where my food goes. If you still don't know what I'm talking about you must have been dropped as a kid...a lot. Anyway, let's not focus on my belly.

So I decided that my identity crisis and my fat-vat are connected! The way I see it, when the gut of doom goes, so does the lack of self confidence. Also, then I'd be hawt. So what am I doing about this revelation of mine? Well, one of my challenges for this year is to develop a habit for exercise; I started a twenty-three day long trial, one day for every year of my life. The challenge is to get myself to go running every day (except for the days when I let my muscles recuperate...or when I decide to stay up blogging....) at 2 A.M. Why at 2 A.M.? Well, that's when all the people in town are asleep. People sleeping means fewer (if any) eye witnesses to the bobbing mass that's thudding passed their house. Also, I'm up that late every day anyway, so, might as well.

What do I hope to accomplish after my challenge is complete? Hopefully the habit will stick and the twenty-three days will turn into something I feel uncomfortable not doing. I get to a point where I want to be able to parade my body in front of those who care to look. Oh, and I'll be healthier to. Minor detail.

Another side affect of completing this challenge could be that I start to pick up other healthier habits. This way one good thing leads to another and eventually I'm that guy that every girl wants.

Man. I really seem to be hung up on this people thinking I'm attractive thing....which is understandable, because, I am attractive...somewhere...I'm sure of it...

You know about snowballs, yeah? You're at the top of a hill, get a little ball of snow, roll it down, it gets bigger and heavier and rounder. Well, that's what I want to do with good habits, except bigger and rounder and heavier is something I don't really need for myself right now. But that's what this challenge is supposed to accomplish. Completing this challenge will lead to my eventual self fulfillment. I'm sure there's a proverb somewhere concerning habit building: "Shake it 'til you break it" or "If you poke it long enough it eventually caves" or "yay! that there pile's bigger than it used to be" or something like that. I don't know. I shouldn't be awake right now.

But in what way have you gone through an identity crisis? What did you do/are you doing to reach that state of self fulfillment?

On A More Serious Note

I felt the need to write something a bit more serious this time. So far, every post has added a bit of humor to different aspects of my life. This makes for fun reading, but it also might sugar coat or glaze the point I'm trying to make. While this isn't a bad thing, I think tonight deserves something a bit more introspective.

Last night my friends celebrated my twenty-third birthday with me. We had some great food, some cake, a few beers...it was a great night. Seeing my friends around me made me feel safe, comfortable, and well cared for. The night before, my family called to sing "Happy Birthday" and tell me how much they loved me. Even with nine hours of driving time between us, they didn't forget to call me on my birthday.

During the last few years, it seemed that I had gotten myself into a pattern where nothing went well for me. Money has been an issue for my family for as long as I can remember. Stress seems to have been with us for even longer. Trial after trial after trial, and still, it seemed that my life was only going downhill.

Last year I remember talking to my adviser in college, telling her that I couldn't remember the last time I was happy. It was a particularly trying year for me. I wasn't doing well in classes, and I had gotten to a point where I cared less how the year ended. Most likely it wasn't going to be good. 

It's funny how flawed our logic can be under hard times. In my mind, all my problems were connected to people and places that I knew. The obvious solution was to go somewhere where I didn't know anyone. Looking back I can see that it was stupid of me, but at the time it made sense. I moved to Ames, Iowa, to see what I could do to repair my life.

Ames proved to be a bad idea. I was penniless and friendless in a town of over fifty thousand people. It did not matter how or where I looked for work; nobody seemed to want me. I stayed there for at least two months, searching for work, trying to survive. I chose some days to stay home and do nothing, my reasoning being that if I didn't exert my body, I wouldn't be hungry, making my food supply last that much longer. My friends from college kept trying to get me to leave Ames and come live with them. I refused. I even missed my friend's wedding so I could continue job searching. I needed to prove to myself that I could live on my own. If I could live on my own, I wouldn't have to worry about other people bringing me down with them. Eventually, my time ran out. I was out of money and could no longer afford to pay the rent for my apartment. I was lonely, poor, hungry, and I needed help.

Out of nowhere, things got better. My buddies came to Ames to grab my things and take me with them to the house they were sharing in Sioux Center, the town I had tried to leave. Almost instantly, I got my old job at the restaurant back. I was making money. I was eating regularly. My life was turning right side up. It was clear that things were only going to improve.

So as I sat there, surrounded by friends, at my twenty-third birthday party, I contemplated the rarity of being able to live with people who want you to succeed. How often do you find smiles that aren't superficial, but filled with care? How many people have functional families that, even through the stress of living on the edge of poverty, takes the time to call them to tell them they are loved? There are very few precious moments in our lives and we would be fools to take them for granted. How could I dare look at my life and complain about how badly I was living? Even at work, I can tell that my coworkers want me to do well. I'm not just some person they work with. I'm part of their family. How many people get to have more than one really awesome family?

Contemplating through the buzz of conversation (and the buzz from the beer) I couldn't help but smile inwardly. I had tried so hard to make it on my own, only to fail miserably. Being rescued by my friends and family taught me that there is no shame in needing to have people who know you can depend on.

As the night was finishing, I got a text message from a dear friend which read, "Go outside your front door ASAP and look down." I walked outside to find a single vanilla custard cone sitting on the deck in front of the door. As I ate the most delicious cone I've ever eaten, I realized...I live a charmed life.

23 Challenge Thingies

I thought it would be neat to see if I could come up with twenty-three things I would like to accomplish this year. Odds are I'll only get half done. Half of one, that is.

Twenty-Three Challenges

1. Get a car.
2. Learn to play guitar.
3. Get caught up on debts.
4. Get back into artsy things, like drawing and painting.
5. Learn something wicked on the piano.
6. Write a song and then upload it to YouTube.
7. Develop a habit for exercise.
8. Go bungee jumping.
9. Learn Romanian.
10. Go on a date...with a girl...
11. Make a toilet paper roll fort.
12. Finish reading through Harry Potter.
13. Hug a Jew.
14. Take the salad. Not the burger.
15. Unpack my suitcase from my trip to Chicago last Christmas...
16. Go on a road trip with my guy friends. Vegas? Don't tell your wives. If they ask, say we're going to British Columbia to look at natury stuff.
17. Go to British Columbia to look at natury stuff.
18. Catch a fish, use it as bait, catch a bigger fish.
19. Tell a customer to buzz off...if I only say it in my mind it still counts.
20. Find that girl I've been trying to find. The one that smells awesome, is kinda cute, and not high maintenance. Also, she likes boys. Also, by "boys" I mean "me." Also, by "likes" I mean "totally digs." Also, she doesn't mind that I have this absurd crush on Shakira.....
21. Drink coffee. Black.
22. Stay up three days in a row.
23. Condition someone to want a piece of gum every time he/she hears the phrase "that's what she said," or "there's no way that's going to fit."

So, that's my list. I bet I get at least two of them done.

Yay! Happy Birthday, me! I gave me challenges as a birthday present. Idiot......

Giving Stuff Up

I don't think I will get much argument from anyone when I say that the times we are living in are economically unappealing. It's the number one problem everyone has in common. It doesn't matter how much money you have in your pocket, it's never enough.

People are having to live without some things so they can make it to the next day. For some folks it's easier than others. There are different levels of poverty, obviously, so this means some people will be able to get away with spending more than others.

When I was living in Ames, looking for a job, my list of things I learned to do without was pretty long:

• Light: I just used day light, and my computer screen/cell phone by night.
• Air conditioning: mine was broken, so this was forced upon me
• A bed: I just had a mattress on the floor, which wasn't that bad.
• Clothes: since it was so hot and I didn't have money to do laundry, I figured I'd try to keep my clothes clean as long as possible by just lounging around the apartment naked...so...awesome.
• Friends: if I had made friends I would have to go out to eat with them or watch a movie together or something.
• Car: I actually still don't have one. Kind of annoying, but nice not to have to pay gas and insurance.
• Furniture: my apartment didn't come with any. Why buy tables and chairs when the floor is right there?
• Food: I had this awesome plan figured out. If there was a way for me to apply to some place online or by phone, I did it. I figured the less time I spent walking to places (remember, I didn't have a car) would be time I spent not getting tired and hungry. Since I wasn't hungry, I wouldn't need to eat as much. Even so, I got pretty sick of backed potatoes, apples, and rice that summer.

Okay, so maybe it's not that long. But it made you feel sorry for me, right? That's all I wanted anyway. Pity friends are still friends.

Today, I turned twenty-three. It's a pretty anticlimactic age, so far, but already, in the first five hours of my twenty-third year, I've done some reflecting on my life so far.

What have my parents given up so that I could live for twenty-three years and develop an identity? Well, virginity was one thing, but besides that I'm sure there have been tons of other things they could have done but left aside. Obviously their dreams of becoming millionaires went down the crapper. If you asked them about it they'd probably say something lame like, "my children have made me rich" or something like that (love you, Mom and Dad!).

Twenty-three years is a long time. I'm sure my parents' list only got longer as the years went by. Thousands of dollars of possible entertainment were wasted on their second born so that he could have a life that was full and well nourished....I don't want to have kids...

I guess, what I'm trying to say, is, "thank you, Mom and Dad, for having a good night twenty-three years ago (just...spare me the details please)."

Dutch People

If you aren't from Sioux Center, Pella, Grand Rapids, or Lynden, then you probably aren't aware that there are pockets of Dutch communities throughout our country. In the most "in the middle of nowhere" places, the places where you expect to see nothing but landscape and hillbillies, hide these towns, overflowing with the descendants of imported Hollanders.


Now, the Dutch, as everyone who knows Dutch people knows, are all the same. After living among them for five years, I have discovered that there are three things that will guarantee whether or not so and so is Dutch: 

1. The all have ridiculously long names, like: Maarschalkerweerd, Kortenhoven, Van Coevorden, and Rodenburgh.
   
2. They're all related. I'm not joking. They have this silly game called "Dutch Bingo." The object of the game is to find out how you are related to someone you just found out you're related to (this isn't hard, because, like I said, they're all related). It's an easy game to recognize. You know someone is playing Dutch Bingo when you overhear this kind of conversation:
   "Oh! You're last name is Vander Zander! You know, I have a cousin who lives in Grand Rapids whose last name is Van Zandervanderwhatsit. Your great great uncle once removed didn't happen to be Karl Vander Van Zandervanvanmaanen, did he?"
   "You know, I think he actually was! If I recall correctly, he moved to Lynden way back in 1892 or whatever.."
   "Yeah! And he got married and sired like...fourteen kids...three boys and the rest girls. One of them eventually moved out to Grand Rapids."
   "No way! I was just talking to my mom's second cousin about how we have relatives in Grand Rapids that moved from Lynden way back when. In fact, I think we talked about the guy you're talking about. I think her exact words were, 'There were fourteen of them. Three boys and the rest girls. He eventually moved to Grand Rapids.'"
   "Ok...this is too cool. There's just no way we are not related. How small is this world?!"
   Too small...the world is way too small when there are over seven billion people on the planet's surface and every other person you run into is your mother's uncle's son in law.
3. They are all obsessed with saving money and getting the biggest gain for the tiniest cost. All of them. Obsessed. Big gain. Tiny cost. This natural - and I daresay, instinctive - compulsion to save money has led a large portion of the American-Dutch population to live quite comfortably. Unfortunately this also makes them the worst customers imaginable.

That third point is the one I'd like to hone in on in this post. We are just getting through our "Coupon Craze" at our restaurant. Every once in a while, we send out coupons to the community. You would not believe the amount of attention we get because of those stupid things. A week or two before they expire, the whole town shows up at our doorstep to make sure they are saving money by using their coupons. The word "mob" comes to mind. I'm pretty sure if there was some kind of sale on pitchforks and torches they would be buying those too.

Anyway, the point of the coupons is to get people to come to the restaurant, use them on something they want, and maybe get something else that catches their eye.

Not Dutch customers. These people are smart. Every loop hole, every square inch of coupon goodness is exploited to the max by these clever, clever Hollanders. I've sold a $35 value meal for the amazing price of $1.37, or something absurdly...absurd like that. That's not a bad deal at all. You would agree, yes?

We have all sorts of coupons. Anything from $1 off your meal to BOGO (that's Buy One Get One) something crazy. So when you get customers that come in, get two burgers for the price of one, and then have the gall to complain that our food is too expensive, you can't help but be a little...pissed, really.

Seriously?...You're complaining to me about paying too much money? Look, honey, first of all, you seem to be a sweet old lady, the kind that gives kiddies cookies and milk and what not. As such, I feel like you really won't even be able to finish one of those burgers you're buying. There are smaller things on our menu, and cheaper...What's that? You're upset that you can't use your senior discount on top of that 50% off deal? You really want your fifteen cents that badly? I don't know what to tell you. I'm not allowed to do that. What's that? You don't think it's fair? Um...lady...you do understand that this is a business, not a charity...right? Okay, just checking. It just seems like you want us to give you all we have for free, which would make us go out of business, which would make us unable to offer you these amazing deals on a crap ton (real measurement) of food. So, if you think about it, the best way for you to save as much money as you can is to spend as much money as you can afford. I can see that you're excited. I'm glad you've changed your mind and are no longer complaining about our prices.

That actually never happens. The part where they stop complaining I mean. But seriously, people...of course the fish is expensive. It's fish! Where do we live? Iowa. Where do fish come from? Oceans and lakes and shit (we actually do have quite a bit of that last thing in Iowa. Yay, cows!). This means that we need to pay people to catch them, filet them, store and preserve them, and deliver them. That's a lot of paying. I mean, it's not like we took fish shaped breading and squeezed "fish" paste into them. It's real. So take your fish with your awesome deal, sit down, stay a while, and shut up....please. And enjoy your meal, for Heaven's sake!...

That's pretty much the way it goes. I'm surprised we haven't been couponed out of business. We are way too generous. It's like lending someone a hand, but they don't return it to you. But that's okay. We're here to serve selflessly, with absolutely no regard for our own personal comfort or job security. No no, I don't want your guilt laden apology. Just take your food and go. Leave me here...alone...with only the lint in my pocket to trade for food at the Poor People's Swap 'n' Shop.

Since I live in a Dutch community, I might get a lot of flack for this. So I might as well just hammer the nails into my coffin by trying my hand at some Dutch jokes....

Yay! Dutch Jokes!

• Q: How do you catch a Dutchman?
  A: Use coupons as bait.
• Q: What's the best present to give to a Dutch relative?
  A: A BOGO certificate. That way they get not one, but two presents.
• Q: I'm Dutch and have never played Dutch Bingo. How do I find out who my relatives are?
  A: Do you live in a small town? Then don't worry. You're all related somehow.

Note: I don't hate Dutch people. I actually might be ambiguously Dutch myself. Thanks for being good sports. ;)


Oh! Please feed the fish on your way out. :D

Who Do I Want To Be Now That I'm Grown Up?

Remember, when you were a kid, how you would compare futures with your friends? One kid would be like, "I'm going to be a fireman!" There would be nodding of heads; who doesn't want to be a fireman? Another would be like, "I'm going to be a cop!" Every kid wants to be the guy that locks up the bad guys. Remember how you listened to everything they said? Remember how you wanted to be something better than them? So you got to thinking in that little head of yours, how in the world can I top being a fireman or cop?!


If you're from my generation, you grew up watching cartoons about superheroes with superpowers and "superfriends," aka, the sidekicks. Remember the invincible Superman? Remember Batman, the Caped Crusader? Remember Flash, the fastest man in the world? As you list the different superheroes in your head, you try to decide which one you most want to be like so you can tell your friends. That's when a stroke of genius hits you like a lightning bolt! Puffing up your chest with childish arrogance, you tell your buddies that you are going to be SuperBatFlashMan! When you grow up, you're going to be fast! You're going to have laser vision! You'll have superhearing! In a nutshell, you're going to be bad ass.


In all seriousness, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a gardener...Just kidding. Nobody wants to be that.


But for real now. When I was a kid, I wasn't really sure what my dad did for his job. But I knew I wanted to be just like him. He used to travel a lot, and he would always have such awesome gifts for us when he got back. We were always so happy to see him after one of his trips! In my mind, it seemed like an awesome job to have. You got to see the world (I loved travelling as a kid) and get awesome toys. But old dreams tend to fade.


By the time I was in high school, I had decided that I was going to be some kind of professional musician. I have always been drawn by the magic of music. I knew that whenever I was around music I was relatively happy (you know, compared to being in class or being picked on by siblings). When I was preparing to look for a college, the adults in my life suggested that I find a career in something I was passionate for. Music seemed to fit the bill.


Then came college. I spent the first two years getting good at my craft. Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata, Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C# minor, J. S. Bach's different prelude and fugues..I knew them all. I could tell you what each composer was thinking when he wrote a particular piece just by analyzing it with music theory. Unfortunately, the "real world" (I hate that expression...) demanded that I be more practical with my future life style. So I merged my music major with a business major. At least this way I have some kind of fallback if the music thing goes wrong.

Which brings me into the present. Today I work at Culver's, a fast food chain mostly prominent in the Midwest. I'm not analyzing music, nor playing piano professionally, nor managing a band. If you asked me if I am anywhere closer to who I want to 

be, I might say: 

The fact is, I work and live with people who respect me for who I am (not a small feat). Though I'm not a millionaire, I make enough money to live fairly comfortably. Furthermore, I've learned that, as much as I love it, music isn't my real passion. My real passion is people. Where better to meet people than a restaurant? I can influence hundreds of people a week just by being behind the register and offering hospitality with a genuine smile.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the less I care what I become as long as I'm surrounded by the people I love. Hopefully they love me back. Otherwise I'll go all SuperBatFlashMan on their arses...

But think about it: where do you find true happiness? We live in an era of cynicism and pessimism. People will tell you that the odds of doing something you love and getting paid for it are very slim. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try with all your being to make it so. Sure it's hard. Sure it might suck at times. But occasional sorrow is trivial next to long term happiness. Right?

The AXE Effect

There's nothing quite as arousing as waking up to the smell of fresh sprayed sex in your room. Sound vulgar? A bit inappropriate maybe? Well, blame it on AXE bodyspray and it's secret "AXE effect." Judging by numerous ads and the sketchy actors/actresses involved, the AXE effect is a simple matter of solving the right mathematical equation, which happens to be: 

(smelly-unattractive male) + (copious amounts of AXE bodyspray) = (more freakin' sex than you'll ever want)

Does it really work? I have my doubts, and here's why:

1) When my roommate sprays that stuff on, it takes over the whole freakin' room. It's like the creeping slime stuff the Zerg spill on the ground in StarCraft. It's like the bazillion (it's a real number..shut up!) Hugo Weavings in The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. But do I like this smell, this apparently "sexy" aroma? Mostly I just find it abrasive. To me, it's like that thing that wouldn't shut up, except instead of my ears being violated it's my nose.

2) Why would I use AXE when I can use Old Spice instead? Does AXE have a spokesman that represents all that every woman desires in a man and that every man desires in himself? Does AXE have "the man your man could smell like?" Why use AXE when the guy speaking for Old Spice is called Isaiah Mustafa? Does AXE persuade you to buy their product with philosophical waxes that are so ludicrous they make the most sense in the world? That's what I thought...

3) What speaks louder and clearer than the voice of experience? I was quite the avid AXE user when in high school. I don't recall ever being assaulted by chicks at the lockers. I'm pretty sure that being in a boarding school had nothing to do with it.

So, that's pretty much why I don't think the AXE effect is real. What would girls find attractive in a product that makes them feel like they're inhaling fiberglass and acid?

If I were to create my own mathematical equation to explain the AXE effect, it would look something like this:

(smelly-unattractive male) + (copious amounts of AXE bodyspray) = (dead girl in your room. Gratz. You're a murderer now.)

I will say this in their favor, though: the smell was so strong that it forced me to wake up and make it to work on time. Kudos!

My Piece of $#1t Day

Woke up this morning and the first word out of my mouth was: "$#1t!" I was at least half an hour late to work. My phone - which doubles as my alarm clock - had unexpectedly died the previous night. From the second my feet hit the floor I knew it was going to be one of those days you try to forget. It was going to be one of those days during which every bad thing imaginable happened. I wasn't wrong.

Bad Day Stuff List Jigger

1. Since I wasn't able to get up in time to dry my clean uniform, I had to wear my wrinkled, not so clean uniform to work.

2. The road I usually take to work had a surprise construction site, making the drive longer and me even later.

3. It's never a good feeling when you know you kind of let your coworkers down by not being there during the lunch rush.

4. About ten minutes after clocking in I spilled a customers malt all over the floor. FML.

5. Unfortunately, a chain of bad events can cause some people to be pretty pissed for a long time. I was pretty much fuming throughout my shift. It's hard to make sure the customers don't notice you're having a bad day.

In spite of this, I would have to say I had a pretty good day. Life is so much easier when you compare the daily number of good things to the number of bad things. At least, in my case, the good always outweighs the bad. It might take a little practice, but I've found that by counting my blessings I am always a bit more satisfied with my life.

"Bad Day" Stuff List Jigger

1. My parents send me a pick me up "have a good day" or "love you" every other day. Thanks, parental units!

2. I live with my second family. My college roommates, Derrick, Nathan, Brett, and Steph, Brett's wife, took me in when I was homeless, naked, and poor. I owe them a LOT.

3. I work with my brother from another mother, Jeff Niesen. Props, brah! You make me love my job!

4. In the house in which I live, there are at least four computers, two Xboxes, and plenty of games. I've "wasted" many could-have-used-better hours on entertainment.

5. I love my job! Angie is pretty much the best boss I've ever had. It makes a difference when your boss pushes you to have a life outside of work. I just need to return the favor once in a while...

6. I'm not persecuted for my faith. As unpatriotic as I feel, it's a gift to be in a country where you can practice your beliefs freely.

7. I'm single. I have a LOT of time to do whatever the heck I want. I only have to worry about myself!...kinda...Also, I have a LOT of time. So much time. Any single ladies picking up the hint?

8. Guns 'n' Roses.

9. I spent four years studying music. It may not have landed me a career, but I would never go back and learn something more "practical." I understand the minds of J. S. Bach, Beethoven, and Chopin better than 75% of the music listeners in the world (Note: statistics invented, but hopefully still make a good point.).

10. You know those pajama pants that make you feel like you're not wearing anything? Yeah. I have those.

11. I don't think any customers noticed I was having a bad day. That, to me, is a success!

12. I was able to compile a longer list of good things than bad. Huzzah!

See? Off the top of my head I came up with twice as many good things than bad. Granted, some of what I listed doesn't "happen" every day, per se, but they are long term blessings. Statistically, my day was actually twice as good as I originally had perceived.

Ok, so maybe it doesn't really work that way, but it does help.

There's this neat tradition my friends and family practice on Thanksgiving: we try to think of at least one thing we are thankful for. If you're having a bad day, you might want to ask yourself what you're thankful for? I think you'll find that your list is longer than you expected.