It isn’t often that you see true bravery in action. Last night I caught a rerun of “48 Hours” and got to meet Angela Shelton. She set out to make a film about the other Angela Sheltons in America. It didn’t take her long to learn that half the Angela Sheltons that she met while traveling the country in her RV where victims of some type of sexual abuse. This gave her film a new focus. In the course of her travels, she met one Angela Shelton who would change her life forever. This particular Angela Shelton happened to live in South Carolina and she tracked sexual predators for a living. The most amazing part was she lived in the exact same town as the film maker’s father. To make a long story short, she confronted her father on film. It was perhaps the bravest thing I have ever seen. I was truly blown away but what one woman was capable of. I can not imagine what that experience was like and it was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed. So check out her website and take a minute to thank her for giving a voice to far too many people living in silence and shame.

Hmm. Twenty minutes ago there was an AP story about the record deficit the White House racked up this year. Now the story is missing. Hmmm. I wrote a song about it.

It figures that my psychic ability would be functioning, but not too far ahead of the curve. I had a very detailed dream last night that a hurricane snuck up on us. Then I hear on the news today there are two candidates in the tropics that were discovered this morning. I hope I'm wrong.

I’m not a conspiracy theorist, but I read this today and got to thinking about what exactly he says. I don’t see any mention of suicide. In fact, this to me looks more like a “goodbye to music” note to me. Maybe his crazy wife shot him because she new if he quit music she would never have money or success. We all know over the years she has really had her share of problems. Maybe some money hungry record exec had a hit put out or worse yet one of his many friends in the drug scene could have done it. Whoever might have shot Kurt Cobain took the time to get him plenty loaded up on heroin. In fact, he had so much in his system he would have probably passed out within seconds of shooting up. Then, police claim, he shot himself with a riffle with that much heroin coursing through his system. I’d imagine that would be difficult to pull off completely sober. This definitely seems like a case that needs to be reopened and put to rest once and for all. Cobain was a miserable man, but I don’t think he was suicidal. I suspect he loved his daughter too much to leave her for Courtney love to raise. It is just too easy to accept that a depressed man with a drug problem would end his own life. I guess we’ll never know the truth, but hopefully Kurt found the peace he could not tap into in this life.

I’ve been to New Mexico and I have to ask what the beef is. Seriously, New Mexico might be the one state that poses no threat to anybody. I suppose the only real attack they could make would be on one of the massive bridges. Otherwise, there isn’t much to blow up. Maybe this is an attempt to get small town America up in arms. I swear New Mexico has maybe two radio stations. What is there to attack? Maybe it is more fear mongering, but you have to wonder who wants us afraid. My guess is they don’t wear turbans.

Last night I listened to the Ben Kweller CD again at Borders. I almost abandoned my new music abstinence. Of course, he does sound an awful lot like the Violent Femmes. Turns out he was the front man for Radish back in the day. I remember rescuing their CD from the trash bin at my college radio station. It blows my mind that this guy cut an album that many years ago and is now only maybe 23.

Speaking of back in the day, I just remembered that my freshman year of college we were one of the first schools to get “smart chip” style technology in our IDs. Basically it meant you could buy books or whatever else you may need from the bookstore with your card and it would just come out of your financial aid. I found a loophole and realized I could buy cigarettes with the card from the college bookstore. Can you believe they even sold cigarettes in a college bookstore? I’ll let the school remain nameless of course. God I miss 1994 sometimes.

I guess Mary Kate and I aren't going to be bunking together after all. I had breakfast and I have to admit I feel better. I don't know why I get on these self destructive kicks with crazy things like diet. I'm learning to do things in moderation and quickly coming to realize I can no longer save the world, or everyone else, but my main project should be saving myself. For better or worse this is the life I have to live. I'm just sort of embarrassed I lack the commitment to pull off an eating disorder. That is some serious ADD. I did give it an honest try though.

So I suspect I'm becoming this guy. I think the Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs will go down as the last musical bandwagon I blindly jumped on. I'm sticking to what I know from here on out.

 

I call it (M)anorexia.

Seriously, I’m starting to wonder if I have an eating disorder. I’ve struggled with weight my whole life and just recently began to not hate my body. The funny thing is this brought a backlash, because on some subconscious level I’m angry with food for making me miserable all these years. So I am avoiding food…like the plague. Instead I should enjoy  not obsessing over my appearance.

 
I’ve now managed to get to this freaky control point where I eat once a day. Luckily, it isn’t this Bachanian feast where I gorge myself. I simply eat a normal lunch and Slim Fast or some other type of liquid the other two meals. I guess I’m not any more the victim of an eating disorder than the average house wife who uses Slim Fast. I’m just sort of freaked out because it is growing into an addictive pattern and anything done addictively is no good.

If this is like every other undertaking, I’ll loose steam here shortly and be back to the jolly old fat guy who loves to eat. It just seems like all the pleasure has been drained out of this once rewarding experience. It is liberating and yet strangely frightening.

Tell me dear public, does this seem morbid.

My dad is currently one of many relatives with cancer. A few months back he told me he wants to be cremated. Then, he wants me to take his ashes to New Mexico and find a spot where I don’t hear any sign of human life and pour him there. I’m sure this is weird to some people, but if you know my Dad it makes sense. Growing up, he always wanted to be a cowboy, so when he was a teenager he ran away from home and worked for several months on a ranch in New Mexico. My grandparents came and got him, but I think he left part of his soul there.

 
It is strange and cosmically freaky to understand both your parents as well as I do. My Dad certainly isn’t going to win any awards for great parenting, but for some reason I seem to “get” him. A lot of other kids would be disappointed in an alcoholic father who never did much for them growing up. The truth is I was for many years. Then I realized being angry with him, or anyone for that matter, only destroys you.

As much as I fear understanding my Dad, I’m also pretty thankful for it. I know what I don’t want out of life and some of his tendencies were certainly passed on. It is up to us to pick and choose what we want to draw from the people who made us. Just like dear old Dad, I find myself pacing around my imagined cage quite often itching to hit the open road and never be pinned down. I also feel no one will ever understand me and I definitely would like to find a way to escape being myself. He found his in the bottle, but I’m looking for a happier exit.

 
I’ve thought a lot about taking my Dad on one last adventure. It would be a great excuse for me to escape the office and see the country. I also think it would allow us to share in the one past time we are both passionate about. Just a father and son on the open road. The reality is he can no longer sit long enough to drive any distance. His spirit is as free as a bird, but his body is as broken as a wishbone. Someday soon, I’ll be taking a road trip across the country with an urn riding shotgun. Right now, I can not feel anything but the ping of destiny at that thought.

This is so NOT me that it almost makes sense that I would come back this way. I tried entering some birthdates of people I know and everyone had a very different story, which I might add their past were very different than their present. I still don't believe this though.

 
Your past life diagnosis:



I don't know how you feel about it, but you were female in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Korea around the year 1800.Your profession was that of a dramatist, director, musician or bard.



Your brief psychological profile in your past life:You were a sane, practical person, a materialist with no spiritual consciousness. Your simple wisdom helped the weaker and the poor.



The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:You should develop your talent for love, happiness and enthusiasm and you should distribute these feelings to all people.



Do you remember now? 

Perhaps God is Tao. I don’t know how this idea got into my head, but honestly it makes a lot of sense. I’m sure I’d get excommunicated from the church for expressing this, but most of the important folks in history managed that distinction. So, suspend disbelief for a second. Lots of groups have crazy theories about who God is. Some suspect a superior being and others say God is a man who built a world in his image. Suppose for a second that God was not a man, or a diety, but instead a real and actual presence. Crazy, I know, but it really does make sense (IE the Holy Spirit). Instead of judging you from a  throne on high, wouldn’t it make more sense that God was a living and breathing part of the universe. Jesus suffered and died as man and was both God AND man. See where I’m going with this?
 
Basically the Taoist believed in living like water. Water is simple and takes clues from the world around it. Water twists and turns and provides life and exists in everything. Yet, water is incredibly powerful. Without it, there would be no life and over time, water can make something as awe inspiring as the Grand Canyon just by simply being what it is.
 
By the same token, Jesus taught us to be like little children. Little children have not learned yet to meet the expectations of others or adhere to the standards laid before us regarding everything in our lives. Little children simply live each day and take pleasure in the simple things like a snack or a sunny day. It is only when we learn things like desire and expectation that we find ourselves unhappy. If we could be more like children, then we would be closer to God.
 
Tao is the ‘way’ or the path. Perhaps God is the path. Jesus told his disciples to follow him. In so doing, they left behind their physical possessions and the lives they built. Jesus said the only way is through him. I would suspect that this is where I deviate from traditional views about Christianity, because I truly believe Jesus was speaking about a way to live life. He didn’t come here to give up an excuse to live how we want and then avoid responsibility for our actions because he died so we could be forgiven. I truly can not imagine how anyone could see that as free or liberating. Do what ever you want and then ask Jesus for forgiveness. Not to mention that is pretty insulting.
 
If this was the message that Christ came here for, why then where his teachings focused on how you should live your life? He spent most of his ministry bestowing us with fables and lessons as well as giving us the keys to happiness. If the Jesus that walked this earth intended his teachings to become the modern church that exists today, he would have given sermons on how one should hold church services, or how much money you should give to the church every week.
 
A true Christian would not dress in their best clothes and drive in their Jesus fish covered SUV down to the ornate church every week for Sunday social hour. What passes for Christianity these days has almost no adherence to the messages of Jesus. Truly following him can lead to a life of enlightenment, blessing and peace. Unfortunately, people today tend to follow false prophets, false doctrines and false interpretations. No wonder the world is littered with cults, bitter Christians and those who have fled the church kicking and screaming.

Did you get the memo about the TPS reports?
 
 
Well the job at the paper fell through. What a shame, because my eyes lit up with childlike abandon at the thought of actually getting paid to be creative and maybe even write. That would have been great. The truth is I probably would have hated it and resented the pay cut. So now I’m back at the job I feel lees than affection for and neatly filling all my new emails away never to be read. It seems like about every half hour I get an email announcing some policy change. When I first started, I very diligently read them all and went about adopting the changes only to find out 2 hours later enough people bitched about said changes prompting a change back to the old way or something entirely ridiculous and new. Now, I mostly file the messages into the trash.
 
As I’m getting the unwanted rejection call yesterday, who should show up at my door but the ex? She was returning some books and decided to drop them off along with a mix she made. Talk about bad timing. I was a little upset she dropped by unannounced, but what can you do? We’ve been apart long enough to make it less than awkward. Not to mention I was on the phone anyway so we didn’t have a prolonged conversation.
 
I knew the mix would be uncomfortable. I have long believed the mix tape to be the most subtle of art forms. Sure, I’ve made completely innocuous ones for friends that had no subtext. Something told me this one would be different. There were messages between the lines and they certainly were not very subtle. So now I have two choices. I can make a rebuttal mix or I can let the whole thing die. It seemed innocent enough, but I learned a long time ago that things are never as simple as they first appear.

well, the nurse's hotline quickly figured out the source of my black tongue. Suprisingly, pink made it black.

Wow, I’m totally freaking out. Why you ask? I woke up with a black tongue. You can not make this stuff up. I brushed and brushed this morning and…the tongue is still black. What the hell? So I did an internet search and found out there are a lot of porn sites with the words “black” and “tongue” on them. As far as medical information, it was non existent. I put a call in to the doctor and hope to hear back soon. It is just weird and just my luck I would get this. All I can say is if its cancer, I’m going back to smoking.

Lend me some sugar, I am your neighbor.


Who do you go to for advice when you’re 28? I don’t really know. I’ve sort of tossed out my little quandary to the folks that know me best and I got pretty mixed results. Here’s the deal, I may be getting a job offer at a newspaper.


The down side to this whole affair is the hours are as crappy as what I currently have and would rule out any chance at a second part time job. Why would I need a second job you ask? Well this move would mean a $6,000 drop in pay. You can see my dilemma. If I take this job and pursue my dream, I’ll be taking a huge gamble. It isn’t wholly a writing gig, but it would be a step in the right direction.

In fact it is mostly editing content for the online version of the paper. So if the job was a disaster, I would not only have to eat my words of hate for my current situation, but I would likely not even be able to afford to buy condiments which would make the eating of words more bearable. Where I was going with that I know not.


I’m going to type a pros and cons list. It sounds silly, but I think it might reveal the truth as to what I should do next. I’m getting way ahead of myself, because I’ll likely spend the entire week neuroticising over this only to not be offered the job.

Life can sometimes be a little circular. Today two of my friends welcomed their first baby into the world. Sunday, another friend buried his grandfather. In many ways, a life is beautiful at both the beginning and the end. At this memorial service on Sunday, it was very non-traditional. Family members and friends came up and said nice things and in the end the entire audience sang lots of songs. It was beautiful, because there was no priest or pastor trying to turn a eulogy about someone they hardly knew into a sermon. It was simply friends and family sharing something about a man they loved.

I could hope to be so lucky. There were not enough chairs and all total, people kept streaming up to the podium for over an hour to say their piece. That is the truest sign of a life lived well. So tonight when I go to the hospital and meet little Jonah for the first time my most sincere hope for him is that he will live a rewarding life and in the course of that life he’ll touch many other lives. When his journey is over he’ll have people lined up around the block to say nice things about him and there will not be nearly enough chairs to seat those who came to pay their respects.

Poor Robbie Williams. He tried so hard to make it in the States and the closest thing he ever had to a hit here is now being butchered by Jessica Simpson.

I think I finally understand why my parent’s generation gave up the good fight and got jobs in the suburbs and left their hippy values at the commune. The truth is you can only put up the battle for so long. I use to take some level of pride in the fact that I never wanted the bland boring existence that exists in American mediocrity. The truth is I’m about ready to embrace it head on.

Just imagine I could shop at the Gap without worrying about little hands in sweatshops and drive a car that guzzles gas. I can afford the extra money each week. I could wear Polo and listen to crap like country and easy listening. Maybe I could even meet a nice girl who has no opinion on anything and we can start putting money into a 401K and blind faith into our president. I could do all of these things and finally for once feel like I belong somewhere. That somewhere would be the warm bosom of Mother America where strip malls and Chili’s and cul-de-sacs rule the landscape. Maybe we could even be clever and rename the cul-de-sac a freedom sac. We are boycotting the French right?

Don’t get me started on the counter culture, because it is the twin brother of conformity. Whatever fashion statement you make will be white washed by Abercrombie and all the rage in 6 months. Your music will become fodder for MTV shows were teens text message each other underneath your once favorite artist’s new video. I have watched more TV in the last 2 years than I did in the first 26. So I am well on my way to the land of the lotus eaters. Make room on the Ikea couch for me.

I guess maybe I am finally wedged into that gray area were all your friends are having babies and everyone at the local hotspot stares at the weird old guy when I walk in. I can not relate to Linkin Park and Ashton Kutcher. All the people that catch my references to movies, music and culture are too busy raising families to hang out anymore. That’s fine and that’s normal and that is beautiful and wonderful. I just hope one day I can take that leap into adulthood and have enough faith in the fact that if I land on my face beaten and heartbroken at least I had the nerve to take an honest shot at life.

The mysterious dissapearing blog entry. I took a couple down becasue they reflected how I felt in a moment and not knowing me, you might think that was how I felt in general. I have been difficult the last few days and I find that to be an excellent time to just shut up. I'll be back soon.

I wonder if they are letting him shave. Maybe he can shave, but he chooses to show alliance with Al Quieda. Maybe this is the connection between Al Quieda and Saddam. Look, he's got a beard too, he must have WMDs.