One for the ages

I have to confess that I have been guilty of a heinous crime against well, myself. For the last lets say 5 or so years I have been professing that I am a fat, old, man. Perhaps it was turning 40, perhaps it was the seemingly never ending travail of aches and pains that have assaulted me more frequently, regardless, I felt old.
I say it all the time. I'm old. My beard is salt and pepper....more salt than pepper. My hair has shades of silver throughout, of course at least I still have a full head of hair. I have started to require reading glasses to read, I can't even see the date on my watch without them. Let's face it, I have reason to say that I am old.

The cherry on top of this proverbial sundae we call life came a week and a half ago when I started noticing that my heartbeat was extremely accelerated. I was helping a good friend install some sod at his home and I'll be damned if I was getting outdone by his wife which again made me feel ancient. She was hauling that sod around like it was some rag doll she was carrying around, meanwhile I would lift one piece and about pass out from exertion.

My feelings of inadequacy continued to worsen. My friends gave me their left over sod, enough to do our front yard, all I had to do was till up the weeds, rake it out, and haul the sod from his house to mine. I was on a tight time line as the temperature was in the 100's and the sod was going to die if we didn't get it down quickly. So here is the kicker, I ask my father, a 70 year old man, to come help me out since he has a big truck, and wouldn't you know it, the old man out did me as well. This is the man that had a heart attack 5 or so years ago and he is kicking my ass up and down the front yard. Granted my heart beat was going nuts and it was 107 degrees outside, and I had been working the whole day before, but still, embarrassing none the less. I am happy to say we got it all done and neither of us died, but I sure felt like I was going to.

So the next day I am taking it easy, feeling sorry for myself and much older than the 44 years that I have been in existence, and notice my heart racing, despite doing absolutely nothing. My wife takes my pulse and it hits 120 beats a minute. Resting heart rate should be in the 70's and mine is nearly double that. I make a determination that despite how much I hate going to the doctor, this seemed serious enough for me to consent to getting things checked out.

This happened over the weekend, fast forward to mid week. My doc sends me to a cardiologist to get a Holter Monitor which is a bunch of electrodes that will measure your heart activity over a 24 hour period, as the EKG he had done didn't show anything abnormal. So I am sitting in the waiting room at this cardiologist's office and begin to look around the room. Something just seemed out of place there, and that something was me. I glanced at the faces of the clientele in the office and noticed that I was surrounded by a room full of overweight septa-, and octogenarian men. No women, no middle aged men, just men that appeared to be much older than I.
It was like I had been awaken by the ghost of Christmas Future and he was showing me what my life was going to be like. I was in a circle of waiting room chairs, a kind of intimate setting really, surrounded by four other men, some with their wives some with their daughters who by appearance seemed to be older than me, but all these men were significantly older than myself. This experience was surreal to me. I sat there nodding as I listened to their conversations with each other, talking about what procedure they had done or were about to be getting done. Occasionally I would drop a witty quip so as to feel as if I were part of the discussion, however it opened my eyes to just how NOT old I really am.

People always point to life altering experiences and say how they are going to change or how it has actually changed their life. I have had a few in mine, but none that had this kind of impact on me. Have I run out and changed my eating habits, or even run anywhere in a feeble attempt to exercise? No. Do I believe that I will? At the moment I say yes, but the reality of it all is, I haven't made any attempts thus far so who knows. The main thing I will take from this is that I am indeed not old. I have only lived maybe half of my life. They say how old you are is a function of how old you think that you are. Chronologically I am 44 years old, mentally I have been acting like I am 70. That is what I can change. That is what I will change. Baby steps to the door, baby steps to the elevator, before you know it I could be tied the the mast of a sail boat exclaiming that "I'm sailing" just like Bob!

Employ Me

Unemployment rates are on the rise in the United States and are the highest they have been in several years. Yours truly is counted amongst the not so elite company of the nation’s jobless community. My unfortunate inclusion with this group is not a result of layoffs due the current economic climate, although I suspect that could have played a part in the big scheme of things. Rather it was a premature, hasty, decision on my part to resign from my post due to circumstances that I will not relate here, as they are not particularly relevant to what I am trying to say in this piece. The point is that I am unemployed and currently seeking to become employed again.

I have been extremely blessed throughout my life as to not have had to work hard to get a job, and when I obtained employment I made damn sure to do the job well so I could maintain my status as employed. I have had three “real” jobs in my adult life; with some variations on the job it’s self. Throw out the fact that I did a tour of duty at the Sizzler starting out as a bus boy and within two months promoted to cook because I worked hard and took an interest in learning more about things. I stayed at the “Sizz” for 6 months before my mother pulled some strings to get me hired on with a residential treatment facility for adolescent females whose parents had a lot of money that they could throw at their problems. I worked as a maintenance man for the facility, fixing holes in walls, replacing light bulbs, that sort of menial labor. Thanks to my father, I was fairly handy which is not only a blessing but also a curse, but that is another piece for another time. This job quickly turned into a better job as a night watch counselor for a new adolescent boys program that they were starting up. I stayed with this job for 6 years before leaving it for a brief stint managing a pet store, which failed miserably.

Subsequently a friend put me onto a job working again, with adolescents, and it appeared to me that I had a calling to work with teenagers, which led me to obtain an education in Psychology to further my career goals. I stayed with this company for 7 years, through three different acquisitions by bigger corporations, and managed to not only maintain employment but also climb the career ladder.

Finally, as I could sense the changes coming in the air, I made a leap of desperation to work for the State of Utah. I took a big pay cut to make this change but it was better than the alternative, which was reveled to be the ultimate demise of this company. This would surely have led to my being unemployed for the first time since I was a young man, however it did not and I continued my status as an employed individual.

I worked for the State for nearly 10 years, which brings me to the aforementioned status of my unemployment. I gave you this history to help you understand my current plight, which has now opened my eyes to a world that heretofore I fortunately have not been a part. Being unemployed is hard work. Starting over, having no income, these things are difficult and I wish them on no one, well maybe someone but that again is another tale for another time.

The government has passed bills to funnel money back into the economy, giving it to huge corporations, under the premise that this would in turn help maintain and even “create” more jobs thus stimulating the economy, putting it back on whatever the metaphorical track it was or is supposed to be on, dependent on your views. Sure these things take time, it is a huge train to move, I get it believe me, I worked in a bureaucracy. My question is this…Where’s the benefit to the little guy? Meanwhile these big companies got all of this money while me along with hundreds of thousands of others are still unemployed standing here waiting for this to “trickle down” to the people.

I don’t presume to sit here at my desk and begin to imply that I am an expert on the economy; hell I can’t even manage my own finances. No, this is about the fact that it seems to me that the rich keep getting richer and the poor keep getting poorer. I don’t care if you are Democrat, Republican, or adhere to some other ideology, the fact of the matter is this, I have no job and not a dime of that money has funneled down to little ol’ me. And the thing that really chaps my hide is that I am still paying for that expenditure through the taxes I have paid and will pay through my wife’s income. Where’s mine Mr. President? Where’s mine Senator, Congressperson? Where the Eff is mine?

I just want a job people. I am a hard worker; I can do pretty much anything that is thrown my way, ok not anything because I can’t do math! I keep submitting my resume and keep getting told that I am not qualified. Give me a friggin’ break here. I guarantee that I could do the job as good as, if not better, than any other chump who happens to have had a job doing customer service or in retail for a year and therefore have the experience that you are looking for in a new hire.

So I say to my fellow Americans, who are out there treading water trying to keep their heads above the onslaught of economic despair, I empathize, I couldn’t say that before, but I can today. Keep the faith, here’s hoping that we get that life preserver thrown to us soon. Meanwhile I had better go get these resume's posted and dropped off to perspective employers so that I can get turned down some more. I sure wish my house would sell so I could get moved over to Hawaii and at least be poor and unemployed in paradise, but that too is another story for another time!

Man in the Mirror

The self proclaimed "King of Pop", Michael Joseph Jackson, is dead. A week later the frenzy over his death continues, and not unlike his predecessor and former ghostly father in law, Elvis "The King of Rock" Presley, the frenzy will undoubtedly continue on for the rest of my lifetime in one form or another.

Like the rest of the world, I too was a fan of Michael and mourn his passing as not only sad but tragic. Taken before his time, 50 years of age, just as he was about to launch his highly anticipated ascension to the throne. This would be the Michael that the world wanted to remember, the man who changed the face of the music world, not the altered face of his human form, going out with a blaze of glory, back on top.

However there is a part of me that wonders if perhaps he isn't in a better place now. I look at Michael in a way that I believe his millions of adoring fans did not see him. I have ruminated over his death now for a week as I have watched the countless reports on his life and people making feeble attempts at tying themselves to his legacy in one way or another. This is the same man who was vilified for being an accused child molester by the same media machine that is now trying to cover his passing as if it has affected them personally.

I didn't know Michael personally, didn't know anyone who did know him. I never saw him in concert, have a few of his albums, but not all, yet I like to think I had an understanding of this man. I appreciated Michael for the musical genius he was, but with genius comes a price. Michael was different than most of us. As with many who are considered to have genius, they are concurrently just as eccentric as they are brilliant. Michael was no different. Thrust into the spotlight at a young age, Michael became a lost child. Accounts of his childhood tell tales of an allegedly abusive father that most likely had a hand in creating Michael's deficits that were so prevalent as fodder for the media that covered his every move while he matured before the world's eyes. My education and experience in Psychology and Social Work have taught me that an abused child will find a way to cope, however their coping does not always make up for the damage caused from the experiences they have.

The recording industry must have taken it's toll on Michael's psyche as well, perpetuating what was most likely started early on in his life. I have heard many, many so called stars recount their negative experiences with the industry. Imagine being a young man like Michael, thrust out of nowhere onto a world stage, in an industry that demands perfection. His childhood lost, he created a world of his own in which he could revert back to the childhood he so sorely missed out. He built the Neverland Ranch and surrounded himself with children in a mad attempt to reclaim that which was absent from his memories, but still he knew existed for others. He wanted that too, and sought it through means that were considered to be perverse and odd to those on the outside looking in to his world. Like Peter Pan, I suppose he didn't want to grow up because he knew what that was like and it was painful to him.

When Michael looked into his mirror, the man he saw was not the person he wanted to see. Though denying any modifications, the rest of the world watched as he changed right before our eyes. He became what some would say was a hideous looking soul, almost as if he were one of the zombies in his historic Thriller Video. Could his genius been born out of the nightmares that he must have suffered as a child, giving the world an album and video that was truly remarkable?

One can find meaning in anything, and art holds many meanings to those who not only create it, but to those who appreciate the works presented to them. The time I have spent listening to Michael's works of art in the last week have revealed a soul that I believe was not able to find its true Neverland. Michael lived in exile at times, sequestered from the world that once embraced him only to then turn on him like some cobra that has been grabbed by it's tail. One last attempt on his part to recapture the hearts and imagination of the world through a comeback concert ended prematurely. The world has lost a tortured soul, a genius, the likes of which may never surface again. Michael Joseph Jackson is dead, rest in peace. I hope you find your Neverland wherever you land in this universe.

Just Write

I used to hate writing. My earliest recollections of having to write were that it was a requirement for some stodgy old teacher who derived pleasure from the cries and moans of the children in their classes. My guess was that they were into torture, and secretly had a dungeon with a cage and various other implements of pain that they would use on unsuspecting traveling salesmen and small children whose baseballs landed in her yard. I personally never experienced that exact scenario, but I heard the stories.

As I grew I still never really gained an affinity for writing, however I discovered that I wasn't half bad at it. That meant that I was at least half good at it; but I still didn't enjoy it. I recall one assignment that I was given in high school, in fact my mother found it in a box recently, and it was to journal everyday of the quarter. I think of myself as an empathetic person. (Maybe Pres. Obama would appoint me to the Supreme Court?) I suddenly felt the pain of all those tortured traveling salesmen and baseball-less children in a giant cage, being poked at with a stick by a hunchbacked, troll of a man, who was ultimately discovered to be her love child from a one night stand with a aluminum siding salesman, whom she subsequently tortured and devoured like some humanoid black widow. Sorry, I digress.

As I was saying, I had this assignment and I spent every day of the quarter writing about how much I hated writing. I must admit, it was slightly funny, even now I read it and chuckle at my wit. Yet, it had no real substance. It basically went like this... "I hate writing, I hate is so very much. I hate it more than I hate broccoli and I really hate broccoli, that is how much I hate writing." I went on to compare writing to all of the things in my teenage world that I had extreme contempt for, including the teacher. I figured she wouldn't really read them so I tossed in a few jabs at her now and again to see if she was paying attention. She never called me on it so I suspect my postulation was correct.

College wasn't much better, there I had to write research papers and the like. That was boring and pointless as well. Unfortunately I didn't get the luxury of adding insults and witty commentary about my professors and how I thought that perhaps they too had cages and implements of torture that they would use on students who dared to visit them during office hours. Regardless, throughout all of my suffering, I learned and gained a respect for writing.
Fast forward to today. It has been several months now since I have written anything other than a honey do list and maybe a few bad checks. You see, I recently lost my motivation to write due to some, lets just say shit, that gave me a pretty good right hook to the jaw and sent me to my corner to regain my composure. But today, I choose to just write. I don't know how often I will blog, but I have good intentions and hope that this is a new beginning for me. I started on a novel, didn't get very far with it, but I hope that I will get back to work on that as well.

Long story short, I enjoy writing now. I don't have anyone to answer to but myself. I am not being graded, and I do it because I can, not because it is required. I will just write.

Snow, Snow Go Away

In case anyone cares, I am done with the snow. It can just go away now. Unlike Ice Cube, today is NOT a good day, if I had an AK I would probably be forced to use it. (for you older folk that is in reference to a rap song. An AK is a Russian assault rifle and I could have used one this morning.)

Sure no two snow flakes are exactly alike, but to me they all look the same, they look cold and slippery and I am done. DONE I tell ya!

I am already tired of lame ass people feeling the need to go 20 MPH on the freeway because they are afraid. I get it, your ascared, no worries, but for God's sake get the crap outta my way. And don't take up two lanes, believe me when I say I would shoot you if I had my AK.

AK is also the abbreviation for Alaska, which I blame for this stoopit weather. Not only that, but that Sarah Palin chick (although I gotta admit that it did provide me with lots o' laughs at her expense thanks to Tina Fey!) I am certain they did something else to piss me off, but mainly Alaska is just cold and snowy and they say that this cold weather is coming down from up there, so thanks for that.
So yeah I am done, stick a fork in me.

Novel Concept

Well it's official. I have joined the ranks of those who are "working on a novel." I am very excited to be one of those people who can now say, "yeah, I have written a couple of screen plays and now I am working on my novel."
The funny thing about it is, I have no clue what I am doing. Sure I have a concept, and a vague outline about how the story will go. I haven't ever really considered writing a novel, but what the hell. I figure what do I have to lose? That chick that wrote those damn vampire books can do it, why not me.

I'm sure it will sit in my computer along with my screen plays and the only use it will have is to give me an interesting comment to insert into a conversation occasionally. But hey, I am working on a novel, and you can't take that away from me. So if you are very nice and beg me a lot, I may let you take a peek at it some time. And you, being the nice people you are will say, oh that's really good, and in reality it will probably be drivel.
But at least I can say..."yeah I am working on a novel." Can you? And if you are also working on a novel, we can compare notes, and if you know a good publisher let me know!

The Toys of Christmas Past

Well another year has come and gone and Christmas is looming large on the horizon. In anticipation of this, I got to thinking about all of the Christmas mornings that I have had over the years, particularly of the ones when I was a young child, and came up with a list of gifts that I recall receiving. I have decided to do a list of comparisons between similar gifts in honor of all the super cool stuff I loved and enjoyed as a child.

Tinker Toys Vs. Erector Set:

Growing up with a father that was a mechanic and watching him work on cars and fixing things in general, I developed a curiosity for well, tinkering with or erecting things. I recall several Christmas' over the years in which I received one or t'other of these collections of parts that one could pour out all over the table or floor, and build some of the most wonderfully awesome contraptions.

My preference was the Erector set. (Is it just me or does the name Erector set just sound dirty?) He he he he, yes I know I am acting like a little kid, but how can I not, it's Christmas! So yeah, the Erector set (he he he) was awesome. I liked it better than Tinker Toys because it was made of metal parts. These things had all sorts of nuts and bolts and pulleys and wheels that you could slap together and create the best sorts of machines. I loved making a catapult and then putting hot wheels in it and launching them at my siblings. Oh the fun it was erecting things!

Tinker Toys were alright. They were made of wood which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but not as cool as metal. You had a bunch of round pieces of wood that had a bunch of holes drilled into them and then several lengths of wooden dowels that you could push into the holes to create some pretty cool stuff. It came with some directions for things you could make and of course if you were really creative you could concoct your own machines that were pretty cool. But by in large the Tinker Toys just weren't as fun as the Erector set in my opinion.

Lincoln Logs Vs. Lego:

An off shoot of the Tinker Toy vs. Erector Set debate is the Lincoln Log vs. Lego discussion. Again like the Tinker Toys you had a wooden product vs. a much more sleek and sturdy product in the Lego's that were hard plastic. Again you could build some pretty cool shit with both gifts, although with the Lincoln Logs you were pretty much limited to building Log cabins. Don't get me wrong, I love me some log cabins. Hell if it was good enough for Honest Abe, it was certainly good enough for the likes of me. I could build some pretty cool cabins with my Lincoln Logs. Both products were good for hucking at your siblings when they would come along and break your creations, though the Logs held a lot more appeal for the hurling process because they were bigger so they carried more velocity than the comparatively smaller and lighter Lego blocks.

I think the versatility of the Lego's were in my mind the better toy to have. There were just so many more interesting things you could do with the Lego's, you weren't just limited to building housing for small plastic Army dudes.

Verti-bird Vs. Plane on a String:

Oh how I long for my Verti-bird helicopter. The Verti-bird helicopter set was a masterpiece that was by far my favorite toy ever! I am sure many of my readers may not have ever heard of, or seen a Verti-bird, but to this day I still wish I had one. In fact anyone who gets me one for Christmas this year will earn my undying gratitude. This was the most awesome toy ever created on God's green earth. It was a little plastic helicopter that was attached to a metal arm that had two levers on a control box that made the helicopter go up/down and forward/backward. Sure it only went around and around in a circle, but I'll be damned if that wasn't just hours of joy. It also had a hook on the bottom of the copter that you could use to hover and pick up things. The challenge was to pick up an item and then carry it to another spot on the Verti-bird landscape, which was basically a painted piece of cardboard with a heli-pad for the landing area. I would spend hours playing with this thing until I wore the batteries out.

The plane on a string was well, in my opinion not quite as cool. Sure it was as dangerous as the Verti-bird in that it had a plastic propeller that would really hurt if it hit your fingers, and sure like the Verti-bird it was an aircraft that went round and round in a circle. But the fact of the matter is, your arm got tired of having to spin this thing around your head over and over again. I have to admit that it was fun to chase your younger brothers and friends around threatening to run it into them. But then your parents would just take it away from you, and you were left to beg your sister for a tasty light bulb warmed cake treat from her Easy Bake Oven. Then, when she wouldn't share, you couldn't threaten her with the plane because your mom took it away and so you would threaten to eat the cake batter before she could cook it, then she tells mom and you are relegated to sitting in your room with all your broke ass toys from the Christmas before.

Slot Car Track Vs. Train Set:

I never really got either one of these toys, but I always wanted them. Every year I would pull out the Sears and Roebuck catalogue and I would look at all of the magnificent slot car tracks, dreaming of all the spectacular races that I would have. I always wanted the biggest race track that they had, but would tell my parents that I would settle for a smaller, less expensive one. There were some really cool race tracks and I never got any of them. I had friends that got them, and of course I got to play with theirs, that was cool. In fact it was actually not a horrible thing that I didn't have one because I got the pleasure of playing with my friends and didn't have all of the headache of actually setting up the track. I am betting that is why my parents never got me one, I discovered this when I bought my own kids a slot car set. Every time they wanted to play, I had to set it up and it is a real pain in the ass.

Like the slot car set, the train set was something that I would always look at in the catalogue and dream about the biggest one with all of the tunnels and bridges and having like 20 different train cars. A train set didn't hold the appeal of the slot car track because of it's lack of speed, but dang a train set would have been cool to have. Again, thankfully I had friends that had trains, and we would have a good ol' time putting hot wheels on the tracks or stealing a sister's barbie doll to put down and then let the train run into them, all the while the sister is screaming and telling on you. It either resulted in de-railing the train or just pushing the toy out of the way, then continuing on clacking down the tracks as if nothing had happened. Of course the mom would come and un-plug the train and tell you to go outside and quit bugging the sister.

Like the slot car track I bought a train set for one of my own children and had fun with it myself, however again I realized that my parents probably didn't get me one because of the labor intensiveness carried with the "some assembly required" slogan. As a parent I have learned that toys for kids should be as little work as possible for the parent. After all, isn't that the idea behind getting toys, to keep the kid busy, not the parent?

Hot Wheels Vs. Matchbox:

Two different versions of the same thing. For my money Hot Wheels were the only game in town though. I mean how could you not love the Hot Wheels better. They had the better looking wheels. Plus they had all these cool concept cars that were so awesome. Who didn't love the Red Baron car with it's Nazi helmet as the cab of the vehicle and the kick ass engine that it sported? Hot Wheels also had so many killer tracks that you could buy and race cars on. Damn I loved those orange slats of plastic that were held together with smaller tongue like pieces of plastic. Not to mention those tracks were good for sword fighting or smacking your siblings with when your mom sent you to your room after taking away your Plane on a string toy!

Matchbox just had miniature versions of the real cars like the Pontiac Station Wagon or the Ford Panel Van. In my mind the Matchbox cars were the generic brand of toy vehicles and certainly looked the part. I don't even recall whether Matchbox made a race track for their vehicles or not, but you certainly could run them down the Hot Wheels track just fine.

Overall I think Hot Wheels just had the better accessories not to mention the better looking cars.

Lastly, though I won't compare it to anything, because in all actuality there is really no comparison. Right next to the Verti bird, my next favorite Christmas toy was the Big Wheel. Man did I love that thing. Who was the bad boy cruisin' round the streets of San Jose on his spankin' new bad ass Big Wheel? Me that's who. It was so awesome to get peddling as fast as you possibly could and then just hit the proverbial brakes by instantly stopping the pedal motion and holding the big front wheel from spinning, resulting in a skid for the ages. When they came out with the hand break on the rear wheels it was even more fun to get up to top speed and slide out sideways. Eventually you would ware a flat spot in the Big Wheel from all of the skidding and you would have to ride around with a "flat" tire that couldn't be repaired.

Taking it off of jumps was pretty sweet too, although I don't think I ever really caught as much air as I believed I had. I once tried to get my little sister to lie down under the jump so that I could try to see if I could clear her like some sort of pre-pubescent Evel Knievel. She would never stay still long enough for me to try, and it's probably just as well looking back on it.

So there you have it. As with most of my lists it is not comprehensive and is certainly open for debate or elaboration on the part of the reader.

Of course in reading this, one might wonder how I ever managed to get anything out of Santa at all. It would seem that I should have been on the naughty list every year for using my toys as torturous weapons against my siblings. Come to think of it, had I been given lumps of coal as the legend goes, I may have had a small fortune built up and not been a broke ass adult begging people to buy him video Ipods or classic Verti-bird helicopters! Damn it Santa, you ripped me off!