I’ve never been one for labels. I keep trying to figure out just where I fit in and I’ve concluded nowhere squarely is the answer. My musical tastes of late tend to really defy explanation. Among the newer stuff I enjoy I keep finding myself drawn to emo. I guess more precisely bands that deny they are emo like “The Get Up Kids” and “Modest Mouse.” I’ve always been a fan of weeping cry baby rock and it could be Michael Stipe singing it or the latest 18-year-old kid from the Midwest who had his heart broken.


What defines “emo” though? I’m a huge fan of “Belle and Sebastian” and “Travis”, yet no self-respecting trendsetter would define either as “emo.” Yet, their music is more emotional and filled with punk sensibility than any of the latest emoesque bands on MTV. I guess emo will go the way of grunge, alternative and all the other terms that no longer mean anything other than a way to label a station on XM radio.

So with emo gone and the sound being imitated by every band on TRL, what is next? I tend to like things years before they get labeled. When I was in high school and listening to “Sunny Day Real Estate” and “Weezer” it was just simple music that geeky kids appreciated. Who knew it would launch a revolution and ultimately fizzle out into the latest fad.

Speaking of fads, trucker hats need to go. Seriously, I mean it. I think Ashton Kutcher won a bet. I’m sure one of his friends said, “Dude, what is the most ridiculous thing you can wear on TV and make into the latest trend?” Nothing is hotter than a shaggy haircut and a trucker hat. That is nothing WAS hotter than that in 1979. Thankfully, I was 3 and while I had shirts with butterfly collars and shaggy hair, my Mom holds the blame for that fashion sense all to herself.

Here are my predictions for what’s coming soon. Acid wash jeans are making a huge comeback.. I called ‘Roos and Member’s Only Jackets last year didn’t I? Acid wash jeans and chamber music will sweep the nation. Perhaps chamber music with a banjo infusion of house or break beat. The banjo is so HOT right now. The next big haircut style will be the reverse Mohawk. Long hair all around and one big streak down the middle. You can quote me on that. Boy this blog entry was pointless.

Steal this BLOG!

Or at least monitor it for insurgent activity. Just kidding. My blog is about as useful as ADT to the homeless.

If there are any experts out there who have figured women out, please let me know what the verdict is. I suspect the secret society mandates that if you tell a man, then you have to kill him. If that is the case ladies, I’d rather you remain a mystery. My guess is you change the rules of engagement as you see fit. At least, that’s been my suspicion for some time.

I’m on a positive kick, so I’m not bloggin much. That’s good. I’d rather be happy and quiet than spewing misery onto the screen. We have people who get paid good money to keep others miserable. At least, they use to.

Sometimes we cry harder for the one’s we left behind.
The one’s taken are beyond our reach.
I said goodbye a dozen times before we parted
I saw you waving there just out of reach.

The true power of any movie is the reaction it sparks in the viewer. Last night I saw “13 Going On 30” and really liked the film. I had my suspicions it was going to be a rip-off of “Big”. In truth it took a genre of film that has almost been beat to death and made the idea fresh. Jennifer Garner does a great job of playing a little girl trapped in an adult world. Mark Ruffalo also put in a strong performance as her romantic interest.

If you haven’t seen the previews yet, it is basically the story of girl named Jenna who is trying desperately to get in with the in crowd at her middle school. After a disaster at her 13th birthday party, she makes a wish to be “30, fabulous and flirty”. The movie then flashes forward to 2004. Jenna is everything she thought she wanted. Yet the first person she seeks out in this fabulous new world is her best friend Matt.

Jenna finds Matt and quickly learns that they stopped talking 17 years ago. She sacrificed the most important relationship in her life to become someone she ultimately ends up despising. So this movie got me thinking. Would a 13-year-old version of me approve of the man I’ve become? This film begs a lot of questions about what we have given up and forgotten in our quests to become adults.

In all honesty, the film probably isn’t going to win any awards. It may not even be that good. I remember seeing “Big” when I was 12 and now I’m watching this film with 30 quickly approaching. I really enjoyed seeing a similar message for the first time once as a child back in 1988 and now as an adult in 2004. It felt like an opportunity to revisit the same movie from two different perspectives.

So if you don’t mind being stuck for days dreaming about being a kid in the 80s, then give this movie a chance. If you fall somewhere between 25 and 35 then it will likely have some appeal for you. If you’ve ever mixed Pop Rocks and soda or wore two color Converse, then this film will take you back. Just be forewarned you might start to wonder where that kid inside you has run off too.

Take a minute and read about Pat Tillman.

I keep hearing people asking why there is such a fuss made about one troop who has died among hundreds in the last couple of years. I think the story behind this man is amazing. He left the NFL to go be an Army ranger. He did what he thought was the right thing, despite everyone surely telling him he was crazy. After making his decision, he didn’t talk about it publicly nor did he pat himself on the back.

We once saluted real heroes in America and this young man is exactly that. Kids today need more heroes who follow their hearts and not their wallets.

Wow, people do read this.


Well I have had a reoccurring thought this week. It seems like the more you get away from yourself, the more you find yourself. I got to spend a lot of time with my cousin, uncle and brother on our drive to south Florida. They did a lot of joking about how they can not make any decisions about their lives because they have to run everything by their wives. I thought it was amusing, because I’m sure it is at least somewhat true.

On the other hand they were all three hounding me about not settling down. I think its funny when people complain about their situation and then immediately try and sucker others into the same predicament. The funny thing is their actions spoke a lot louder than their words.

I have a pretty negative view of marriage. I think I had to face it head on and for some reason this weekend made me pull out the microscope and examine this aspect of my personality. Maybe it is the result of coming from divorced parts (and by divorced I mean 6 marriages between both of them). Maybe I speak from my own experiences with relationships. Maybe I’m just buying into society’s idea that a woman must “break” a man.

The frightening thing is married men tend to live a lot longer than single men. As I walked through the cemetery yesterday, I noticed in almost every couple the woman outlived the man by at least a decade. Most had 20 years or more. So maybe the women are doing something right and maybe a certain amount of breaking is necessary since men tend to come up with most of the stupid crap in the world (see also school shootings, wars, “Black Tail” magazine).

I watched my cousin, brother and uncle talk about their struggles. They lost battles over which cars to buy or decisions about rather or not to install a pool in the yard. They have to fight to keep their favorite shirt or try a new hairstyle. Their decisions as individuals are done for the most part, because they are married and that means what they do needs committee approval.

On the surface, this looks like an awful deal. Really, who would want to loose so much personal liberty? The truth is they probably win as many battles as they loose. They all have their toys that their wives let them play with like computers, boats and other harmless past times. So in exchange for not being able to drop everything and head off to Vegas for the weekend, they get love and companionship and the opportunity to be a father. I would trade all this freedom I have to be able to tell a story about my son’s baseball league or my daughter’s win at the school science fair. If history has taught us anything, I will likely do just that. The difference is I’m no longer afraid.

Well I’ve been putting off my return to the blog. I really just didn’t want to come back and be all negative. I miss my Grandma and yesterday was a rough day. It seemed like everything that could go wrong did. Our car broke down, our cab got lost and we were over a half hour late to the funeral. I think she didn’t want to be left in Clearwater. It hasn’t been Grandma’s home for years. I just have to remember that isn’t Grandma that’s buried there, but just the shell she traveled around in.

As you guessed, not much new my way. Women still avoid me, I offend nearly everyone and most of my emails never get replies from people. I’m guessing either my yahoo account is broken or I’m a bigger loser than I care to admit.

I’m getting THIS shirt. If you know what it is about, you’ll think it is hilarious.

I promise to be my old self soon enough.

My Grandma passed away today. I hope when the time comes I can read this:
Ruth Ivans was born an only child. It was a fact she quickly made up for by raising two children of her own. Today she has 6 grandchildren, 8 great grand children and one great great grandson. All 16 of us are as diverse a group as you will ever find. Two proudly served their country in the armed forces. We are artists, businessmen, star athletes, musicians, scoutmasters, computer programmers, and honor roll students. At the center of this rather large family is the one woman who made this all possible.

I know each of us became the mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, sons and daughters we are today because of Ruth Ivans. In her family I see the values that would make her proud. Ruth Ivans taught all of us about sacrifice and unconditional love. Her advice, sometimes solicited and sometimes not, was always tempered with a helping hand. While she tried to do what she could for others, it was a rare occasion you would get a phone call from Grandma asking for something. She always worried about being a burden to those she loved and when the time came were she could no longer be self-sufficient, she was reluctant to trouble anyone with something as simple as a ride to the supermarket.

Today many of you will meet the family that Ruth Ivans loved so much for the very first time. This is her legacy to the world. Her children and grandchildren are not perfect people. We’re not all 6 feet tall, nor do we have Harvard MBAs. What you will notice about us is that we are genuine people with good hearts who try to do the right thing. We don’t always succeed, but we have some big shoes to fill. Ruth Ivans cared for her husband Galen for years as he suffered through ALS. She watched each one of us battle our tragedies and celebrate our triumphs and through it all we knew when the dust settled our mother, grand mother and great grandma would be there to help us pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and make it through another day.

This family that Ruth Ivans gave the world is a group of some of the finest parents I have ever seen. I’ve watched my siblings and my cousin become the type of parents any child would love to have. They love their children through bad choices, bad attitudes and the bruises that life delivers (both emotionally and physically). I have no doubt in my mind that as we all grow older and the years tick by we will remember Grandma and try every day to live a life with dignity, grace and genuine love. We will become the type of Grandparent that we were all lucky enough to have.

As an adult, I read the words of Jesus when he said, “what does it benefit a man to worry?” I thought they sounded very familiar and they did, because this was the lesson Grandma was always trying to instill in our hearts. One of her favorite sayings was “I spent half my life worrying about things that never happened.” I think today she would want us each to remember the wisdom in those words. Now is not the time to worry and feel the anxiety of a losing a loved one, but instead a time to celebrate how lucky we all are to have the lives we have. These are lives that were not only blessed, enriched and enlightened by Ruth Ivans, but also made possible by her.

Could I care any less about whom The Donald picks to be his senior “Do Boy” tonight? Probably not. I miss good shows, like “Thundercats”. That was television.
SNARFFFF!!!!

I had that dream again. You know the one were you live in your office. I swear, I had quite the little cot set up in there and I lived there. After hours, I called Papa Johns and ate pizza and watched “Chapelle's Show” right their at my desk. It was glorious. Then Janet Reno came in and started telling me she was going to “butter my bread.” No joke!


I suppose the dream had some roots in reality. Last week I had the entire thing to myself. No work. I even avoided homework as best I could as someone who is getting a master in computer stuff. I like that term. Computer stuff seems so fitting, because that is what it is and 99.999% of people really don’t care or could only feign interest in what I study. Hell I pretend to be interested half the time.

So anyway, Reno walks in to “butter my bread.” I don’t know what that quote is from, but I’ve heard it thrown around. My guess is the reason I have Janet Reno on the brain is whilst in Miami I slept next door to her. My friend’s dad is Janet Reno’s neighbor and we spent the night on his floor. So I was well within her sphere of influence. For all I know I’m on a watch list now. As far as being stuck at work, I already feel that way. Stuck. Despite all my rage, I’m still just a rat. Work is my cage. Right Billy?

I proudly rank myself among the great-unwashed masses. One of my coworkers asked me today if I believe smart people are successful. I told her “no.” Of course that begged an explanation. I simply pointed out that smart people see how futile career success or material wealth really is and it is a sad soul that looks to those things for happiness.


The truth is I would love to travel more and have more free time. I guess money could buy those things. On the other hand, the rich folks I see are so busy chasing their next buck that they never enjoy free time and travel. Instead they buy a bunch of crap to make themselves feel better (or their neglected kids, spouses or friends).

In some ways I think being rich would be a handicap. At least now I know when someone wants to be my friend, or better yet when a woman loves me, I know they are authentic. What would it benefit anyone to get in my good graces? If you’re rich, you loose the luxury of authentic relationships. Imagined or not, you would always be on guard for the signs people like you simply because you're knee deep in bankrolls.

I think Jesus put in best when he asked, “What does it benefit a man to gain the world if only to loose his soul?”

THIS is proof the end is near. As "The Smiths" once said "come armagedon, come."

Come on Barbie lets go party…

What ever happened to that group "Aqua"? I’m a sucker for awful music. My taste is extreme. I love bands most people have never heard of or I love 1 hit wonders. So I see the Olsen Twins have a movie coming out. Great. I’ll be first in line.


I just got back from vacation. Hence no blog and precious little complaints. Coming back to work is hard, but I did mange to squeeze a whole lot into a week. Its nice to still be young and free enough to drive down to the Keys just because it sounds like fun. These days are limited I know.

I suspect one of my regular readers is wondering why I was such an a-hole the other night. The truth is I was a little hurt you were chosen over me. I’m heading your advice though (solicited or otherwise) and getting some help. You might be able to build a castle out of mud, but its much easier with bricks. So I’m trying to get the mush straightened out.

I never thought I would become one of those people that obsess about grades. I know better since a potential date, employer, or friend has never asked me once what my GPA was in school. Yet I was pulling a 4.0 in grad school in computer science. That’s something to be proud of and I was pretty psyched about it. Then today my final grades were posted for last semester and I got an A-.

It sounds silly to get upset about and even sillier as I write this. I use to laugh at those kids who cried (CRIED for God’s sake) when they got a B and here I am obsessing over an A-. I think this will at least relieve me of that burning desire to maintain my 4.0. I can relax a little now.

I was never cool in school
I'm sure you don't remember me
And now it's been ten years
I'm still wondering who to be
But I love to mix in circles,
Cliques and social coteries,
That's me
Hand me my nose ring
(can we be happy?)
Show me the mosh pit
(can we be happy?)
We can be happy
Underground
~Ben Folds Five


I guess I’m getting long in the tooth or something. I find it impossible to believe a decade has past since I was a target demographic for acne medicine. The funny thing is no one ever tells you there will come a time when you have both the occasional zit and the all too frequent gray hair. The best of both worlds I guess. So everything today owes a debt of gratitude to the time and place I grew up in.

I’m sure the nice folks who were almost 30 in the early 90s though every band on the radio sounded like “The Pixies” or “The Smiths.” Maybe they were right. Today I hear bands like “Finger Eleven” and hear only traces of yesterday's “Pearl Jam” or I'll see the “Yeah Yeah Yeahs” on MTV and can not help but think “The Pretenders” have a new album out. Its probably just the people who change. New kids take on the same roles and new bands fill in the gaps in every genre.

A Goth today pretty much looks like the Goth of yesterday. Except today they put in those stupid giant “earrings” that stretch their ears out. Of course these kids assume they’ll never want to be a cog in society's machine, but trust me someday you’ll be trying to figure out a way to hide, reconstruct or otherwise make your mangled ear socially acceptable. My generation traded in their combat boots and long oily hair for an SUV and a house in the suburbs. The one before us retired the “Flock of Seagulls” haircut and their keyboard guitars. The one before that packed up their lava lamps and “Earth Wind and Fire” records. You see where I’m going with this no doubt.

So here we sit 10 years after Kurt Cobain checked out. I use to believe Courtney Love killed him. The truth is we all killed him. For some reason if you paint a picture or write a book or make an album and people like and relate to it, then you become a cult hero. Then, we all think you owe us something. Maybe it is an autograph or a sophomore album or a debt of gratitude. Let the poor man rest. I definitely get tired of that “woe is me” crap that every Hollywood celebrity whines about in interviews. Its one thing to hear Usher complain about how he can not go to “Taco Bell” anymore, but it is another thing to reach the point where your life no longer feels like your own and you see no point in carrying on.


So Monday when MTV does a retrospective and all the “alternative” stations are cranking out Nirvana tunes just take a second and remember that there was a person behind this legend. He was a father, a husband and a sensitive and somewhat confused young man. He wrote songs, good songs, which got a lot of us through the murky waters of being a teenager. In the end, he turned out to be fragile and human and no stronger than the rest of us. For me personally, I feel the expression of pain is sometimes very therapeutic. In the case of Kurt Cobain it shows how what makes great art doesn’t always lead to a catharsis.

With the lights out it isn’t always less dangerous.

If you ever get close to a human
And human behavior
Be ready to get confused
~Bjork

Yesterday I got my Charlie Brown shirt in the mail. Yes it is the yellow shirt with the black squiggly lines just like Charlie Brown use to wear. People seem to immediately recognize it and it will no doubt be a conversation starter. As I looked at myself in the mirror it really occurred to me I AM Charlie Brown. Why? You ask.

I have a strange learning disability were I can not understand verbal instruction very well. Write something down or show me how to do it and I’m fine. Verbal instruction sounds like “waaa waa waa waaaa waaaa wa.” Sound familiar? OK, I hate to admit it but the one thing I have over Charlie Brown is hair. I also have a sneaking suspicion it will soon be gone. Then I’ll just grow one long curl in keeping with my walking testament to Charles Schultz.

The one girl that ever loved Charlie Brown took more pleasure in dangling the ball in front of him than actually letting him kick it. That is my life writ small. The only women who ever understood what a great guy Charlie Brown was were all lesbians. I don’t have a lesbian posse, but it does seem like the women who know and love me have about as much attraction to me as Donald Trump does to Wal-Mart.

Poor Charlie couldn’t trust his own sister. Half the time she was up to plotting something behind Charlie’s back and the poor kid could never relax. Half the time I feel the same way about my relatives. Then there’s Snoopy. The boy’s own dog would rather spend time hanging out with a yellow bird that doesn’t talk than his trusted master. His best friend even liked his piano and blanket more than Charlie.


Charlie was bad at sports. ..really bad at sports. He gave his all though. Charlie had an egg shaped head. His body lacks any real shape despite the fact the poor kid is very athletic. Sadly, the one thing I identify with most in Charlie in is the fact he always tries to do what is right. Time and again Charlie Brown lets his heart guide his actions. Usually it blows up in his face, but Charlie never becomes bitter or angry. That alone makes me proud to be just like Charlie.

I’m going to throw the link up here and let you use your own good judgment. These pictures show what happened yesterday in Iraq. I’m a peace loving man and yet it makes me want to put a bullet through that smirking twit’s head. How sick do you have to be to play with mutilated bodies? I’m sure there are plenty of atrocities on both sides of this occupation, but that sure does not excuse these radicals. This will do nothing to end the mutual hate between the west and radical Islamists. I’m sure these images will just make those who support Bush all the more ready for battle and those who support Kerry even more anxious to get our troops out of there. What makes this war so disturbing is anyone can be a target. That includes you and I.

Why are you so sensitive?

UGH! If there was one thing I could change about myself, it is the fact I am so sensitive. It would be hard enough being a woman and being hypersensitive, but being a man makes it even worse. It drives me bonkers! I know it must root from low esteem or some issue from my childhood. I also try to seek the approval of others and half the time I don’t get it.


So here I sit steaming about something silly. I’m sure it wasn’t even meant to be a hurtful remark, but it was. Maybe one day I will not shatter like a piece of China any time somebody says something that is remotely hurtful. It probably explains why I keep the world at arm’s length. The more you know about me, the easier you can hurt me.