Posts
I wrote the following blog a year or so ago and thought it would be nice entertainment for the weary. Have fun reading and if you like....give me your "favorite" stars to make fun of.....
I like Nicolas Cage. I really do. I mean, look at his career. He's done pretty well for himself ever since the days of putting up with those annoying girls inflicted with "Like" syndrome in "Valley Girls". I mean, "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" and "Raising Arizona"? Funny movies, funny characters. He was on to something there for a while. The operative word being was.
Unfortunately though, I have started to lose a bit of faith in some of his more recent characters. I won't blame him entirely though. I mean, it's not his fault. It really should be blamed on his uncle, Francis Ford Coppola. It's a pretty high bar to set for this average looking Joe when his glory days of playing the quintessential punk rocker are far behind him. Well, and let's not forget his entourage; obviously somebody's taking way too long of lunches and not getting meetings with the right people.
I recently read the review of Cage's most recent release called "Next". This movie "shows off its budget with several scenes of helicopters swooping down, soaring up, flying over the action, and furious car chases, but what might have been an ok thriller, based on a preposterous premise falls apart at the end and just looks like a silly chase movie." Sounds like the echoes of such films as The Wicker Man, National Treasure, 8MM, Snake Eyes and Lord of War. Maybe he's getting a raw deal (from the critics for these particular films) however I believe that it's the work of his so-called entourage. I mean, come on Nick; you need to have a serious sit-down with your agent and your manager. Neither of whom are being very responsible when it comes to your career. Sure, once in a while you find a great part; i.e. Leaving Las Vegas (good in sooo many ways), Adaptation (wonderful versatility here, Nick) or World Trade Center (I could never actually watch this movie in its entirety but I give you kudos for at least having the balls to associate yourself with such a difficult subject matter– applause).
The truth is this; I think this man has talent, I mean come one, he has to. With Francis and Sophia's blood running, ever so diluted through those scrawny little arms and legs, he's got more talent in the cuticle part of the nail on his right-hand pinky than I have in my entire body. I just think it would behoove you Nick, to select the few and far between rather than the many and close together. I think you can still get great parts and at the same time, show a bit of class. Just be a bit more picky in what you actually associate yourself with. After all, you are one step ahead of the rest of us…..you've got an in, in the business. So step up and make better decisions and for gawd sakes, get a new manager and agent…….especially if they are the ones that sat idly by to watch you to marry Lisa – I mean, the kings daughter? Do you really love him that much?
Monday, July 28, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Encore of Our Youth
A note-worthy blog mastered many months ago and previewed for my new audience. Thanks for indulging me.....
4/20/07
Along with improving my health and consequently my world (I work in health insurance by trade and wellness is becoming the link that will save us all) by incorporating more fruit and vegetables in my diet, I have also started riding the bus to and from work. Not so much as a conscience effort to avoid adding more harmful emissions to the air; more for reasons of sheer necessity since our second car has been out of commission for some time now. At any rate, the bus ride each day has become somewhat of an eavesdropping outlet for this observer in order to collect tid-bits and pieces for the next best article.
Yesterday's bus ride home was no exception. As I listened to the women talking about the Virginia Tech shootings in front of me, I found myself searching for any other distraction. I watched as the scandally clad women in the front bobbed her head forward in a trans-like sleep and the man sitting across from her reading a hard-backed book. Then I began to comprehend the conversation of two young men, maybe 15 or 16 years old, sitting directly behind me. With a slight "north-side" accent, as we used to refer to it in high-school, these gangster want-to-be's with their signature tattoos on their hands, talked about going home to find something to eat. In the midst of the uneventful conversation, one of the boys received a phone call. In true eavesdropping fashion, I listened in, hardly realizing that what he was saying was absolutely none of my business. As rude as it is, sometimes the 13-minute ride is so short I find it unbeneficial to take out my reading materials just to put it away so soon. So the listening continued.
The boy on the phone proceeded to talk about a friend or family member, I couldn't tell. Either way, I learned very quickly that the member of subject was incarcerated in a local jail. The young boy was explaining to the person on the other end of the phone that the person in jail had just been moved to a more permanent place. As the boy continued, his voice seemed to get higher with excitement as he described to his conversation partner the place of last resort for their friend. "Yeah man, this place is way nice and it's actually cool. You should see it……" he said. "He'll stay there for a spell and then he'll head up to the big time but this place is cool as all shit. I wouldn't have no problems being in there for a bit." After a slight pause, the boy answered a question posed, presumably, from the person on the end of the phone by saying, "um, yeah, I don't know if cell phones can take collect calls." he continued, "Cause, yeah, I think you can just send that to him and he can get it in four to six weeks when it gets through the system as approved." Once the phone call ended, the boys traveling together continued to joke and laugh about their incarcerated friend, reiterating how cool it was he was in jail.
As the boys continued this display of sheer stupidity, I began to wonder what is happening with our youth of today. This boy was clearly speaking of someone in jail as if the incarcerated person were visiting a spa in Laguna Beach. His voice and his words exclaimed "cool" and "you should see it" as if he had just purchased an X-Box 360 and wanted to share it with his friends. Since when, and I ask this in complete seriousness, did it become "cool" to go to jail? Have I been hiding under a rock? Is jail really cool now-a-days? Does the youth of today really prefer a stint in jail to a spring break in Mexico?
I recently read a story, written by a 17 year old boy who is currently serving 12 years for armed robbery. This very articulate boy detailed just a small portion of his current surroundings. He talked about being careful when turning in bed not to touch the wall because he did not know how or where the yellowish drip marks on the wall came from. He detailed his dirt-filled cell and how he could not do anything without express permission or order of a guard. This boy explained that he would probably never be able to hug his father again because his father would probably die of kidney cancer before he got out of jail and then elaborated on how hurtful it was to know such a fact. In his declaration, he also admitted to laughing in the courtroom when he was sentenced two years previously, thinking "it was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard." Now faced with the reality of his situation, this young man condemns the day he thought it was a "big joke", explaining that "the most important part of [his] life is gone."
The story told by this youngster of only 17 is one that should be innately and solidly implanted into the brains of all teenagers (and adults for that matter). It makes me ill to think that the reason our youths are so far gone in today's society is the simple fact that going to jail is probably preferable to their home lives and that no adults are urging them to see what it really means to go be incarcerated. It should not be something that is "cool" or accepted. Jail is a serious end to a very identifiable means. If you do bad things, you go to a bad place. What is to stop our youths from committing crimes against society if places like jail are painted as the places "you should see"? No wonder our jails are over-crowded and so many first-time offenders return to the cement buildings with fences around them. If the facilities are too quaint to offer real punishment, what is the point of rehabilitation?
4/20/07
Along with improving my health and consequently my world (I work in health insurance by trade and wellness is becoming the link that will save us all) by incorporating more fruit and vegetables in my diet, I have also started riding the bus to and from work. Not so much as a conscience effort to avoid adding more harmful emissions to the air; more for reasons of sheer necessity since our second car has been out of commission for some time now. At any rate, the bus ride each day has become somewhat of an eavesdropping outlet for this observer in order to collect tid-bits and pieces for the next best article.
Yesterday's bus ride home was no exception. As I listened to the women talking about the Virginia Tech shootings in front of me, I found myself searching for any other distraction. I watched as the scandally clad women in the front bobbed her head forward in a trans-like sleep and the man sitting across from her reading a hard-backed book. Then I began to comprehend the conversation of two young men, maybe 15 or 16 years old, sitting directly behind me. With a slight "north-side" accent, as we used to refer to it in high-school, these gangster want-to-be's with their signature tattoos on their hands, talked about going home to find something to eat. In the midst of the uneventful conversation, one of the boys received a phone call. In true eavesdropping fashion, I listened in, hardly realizing that what he was saying was absolutely none of my business. As rude as it is, sometimes the 13-minute ride is so short I find it unbeneficial to take out my reading materials just to put it away so soon. So the listening continued.
The boy on the phone proceeded to talk about a friend or family member, I couldn't tell. Either way, I learned very quickly that the member of subject was incarcerated in a local jail. The young boy was explaining to the person on the other end of the phone that the person in jail had just been moved to a more permanent place. As the boy continued, his voice seemed to get higher with excitement as he described to his conversation partner the place of last resort for their friend. "Yeah man, this place is way nice and it's actually cool. You should see it……" he said. "He'll stay there for a spell and then he'll head up to the big time but this place is cool as all shit. I wouldn't have no problems being in there for a bit." After a slight pause, the boy answered a question posed, presumably, from the person on the end of the phone by saying, "um, yeah, I don't know if cell phones can take collect calls." he continued, "Cause, yeah, I think you can just send that to him and he can get it in four to six weeks when it gets through the system as approved." Once the phone call ended, the boys traveling together continued to joke and laugh about their incarcerated friend, reiterating how cool it was he was in jail.
As the boys continued this display of sheer stupidity, I began to wonder what is happening with our youth of today. This boy was clearly speaking of someone in jail as if the incarcerated person were visiting a spa in Laguna Beach. His voice and his words exclaimed "cool" and "you should see it" as if he had just purchased an X-Box 360 and wanted to share it with his friends. Since when, and I ask this in complete seriousness, did it become "cool" to go to jail? Have I been hiding under a rock? Is jail really cool now-a-days? Does the youth of today really prefer a stint in jail to a spring break in Mexico?
I recently read a story, written by a 17 year old boy who is currently serving 12 years for armed robbery. This very articulate boy detailed just a small portion of his current surroundings. He talked about being careful when turning in bed not to touch the wall because he did not know how or where the yellowish drip marks on the wall came from. He detailed his dirt-filled cell and how he could not do anything without express permission or order of a guard. This boy explained that he would probably never be able to hug his father again because his father would probably die of kidney cancer before he got out of jail and then elaborated on how hurtful it was to know such a fact. In his declaration, he also admitted to laughing in the courtroom when he was sentenced two years previously, thinking "it was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard." Now faced with the reality of his situation, this young man condemns the day he thought it was a "big joke", explaining that "the most important part of [his] life is gone."
The story told by this youngster of only 17 is one that should be innately and solidly implanted into the brains of all teenagers (and adults for that matter). It makes me ill to think that the reason our youths are so far gone in today's society is the simple fact that going to jail is probably preferable to their home lives and that no adults are urging them to see what it really means to go be incarcerated. It should not be something that is "cool" or accepted. Jail is a serious end to a very identifiable means. If you do bad things, you go to a bad place. What is to stop our youths from committing crimes against society if places like jail are painted as the places "you should see"? No wonder our jails are over-crowded and so many first-time offenders return to the cement buildings with fences around them. If the facilities are too quaint to offer real punishment, what is the point of rehabilitation?
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Trickery or Just Plain Stupidity?
With the United States in a state of emergency where home foreclosures are concerned, who exactly is to blame? Is it the crooked Mortgage Broker that convinced a husband and wife that they could purchase a $275,000 home on their combined income of $55,000 a year? Is it the real estate agent that kept the couple looking at the more expensive houses to get the 4% minimum commission? Was it the loan officer that fudged the numbers to allow these risky bowers with a less than desirable credit score to get into a three year arm that they were virtually guaranteed not to afford once the rates increased? Is it the government for not having a tighter reign on an industry that, in hindsight, has the ability to make or break our economy?
Everyone has an opinion so I won’t shy away from delivering mine and to tell you the truth….I don’t blame any of the entities above. I blame the buyers. Pure and simple, it’s the buyers who, instead of weeping tears of false promises made by lenders and the like, should be ashamed that they are so stupid. Oh sure, some might say that I am out of line on this one because the “stupidity” factor is illogical considering the shear volume of borrowers in the same situation however when does one ask themselves, “this sounds too good to be true…is it too good to be true?” Of course it is stupid! No one who gets a $275,000 loan without a penny down and no principal payment for three years can expect not to have to pay the piper eventually. You read the small print on the contract right? I mean, you looked at the rate table and not just saw the steady increases to make up for the lost down payment, the up side down equity and the interest only payments but you comprehended it, right? So when you did figure on the doubling house payment, you just thought you’d magically be in a job market that allowed for an annual increase of at least 15% annually right? I mean, you just knew that you’d be making so much more money that you’d have no worries. Yeah, not so much (as my college girlfriends used to say).
It is absolutely ridiculous to think that not only does the US government have to shell out trillions of dollars to deadbeats who refuse to get a real job taking advantage of our welfare system and provide a steady flow of cash backing for credit card companies that allow stupid people to have ridiculously high limits on cards they couldn’t pay back in their lifetime if they lived a thousand years….but now, the government has to bail out the mortgage providers such as Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac so that some sort of reconciliation can be made to shareholders. And who are those shareholders? Certainly not the tens of thousands that defaulted on loans their asses couldn’t cash if the brown eye was made of gold and seeping diamond shit.
I am certainly not an expert in the sub-prime mortgage crisis other than anything I’ve read or seen in the news, however I can tell you a couple of things about being a consumer of credit and a new homeowner; When you charge up a credit card with frivolous purchases such as televisions and clothes or when you rack up your cards with “necessities” such as appliances and car repair, YOU and ONLY YOU are responsible to pay that back. When you purchase a home for more than you can afford, YOU and ONLY YOU are responsible to pay what needs to be paid in order to remain in the home. READ THE SMALL PRINT. It’s not there to give you a headache or to “trick” you into oblivion. It’s there to provide important, if not absolutely vital information with regard to your payments and what you are getting for signing on the dotted line. And just because you don't read it, or you skim it with an utter uncertaintly, doesn't mean the credit card company or loaning bank will forgive your debts. This is not a game. You can't just say, "oh I didn't know" and expect to be relieved of your duties.
I have credit cards and with them, I've accumulated a mother load of debt. And at times, I have racked up those credit cards beyond my means of paying them back. I have NO ONE to blame but MYSELF during those times. Although I hate the credit card companies and all they represent, they did not force me to purchase a round of drinks every night for two months at a seedy mexican restaurant. They did not force me to purchase my laptop computer on plastic because I didn’t have enough sense to start a simple savings account and pay cash when I could afford it. They did not force me to buy clothes from the Gap on plastic when I could have paid cash for something cheaper at Walmart. Sure, who really wants to shop at Walmart for clothes if they really don’t have to? Well, not many people but you know what? It sure beats having to wear the same “Gap” outfits for four years running because you’ve maxed out your credit cards and have no money to buy any new clothes, Walmart or not.
Now, yes, I am exaggerating a bit. I do not have any clothes that are more than two years old (other than my favorite Borne shoes from 2000) and I don’t really shop at Walmart for clothes. (Although their prices can’t be beat on household cleaners). But my point is clear. I have no one to blame for the $350 a month payment to the credit consolidation company for the last three years and for the next two years than me. I am reaping what I sewed years ago and there is no one else to blame but me.
The great thing about this whole crisis though is that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It’s now a buyer’s market and even I could afford a home. Yes, I’m a homeowner and a smart one at that. I didn’t get talked into these silly ARM loans so that I could live in a bigger home now. No, I took my time, played the game conservatively and most importantly, educated myself. I bought a home I could afford. We’re locked in at a mortgage we can afford (with or without a two-income household) for 30 years…with no surprise increases or unprecedented interest rate hikes. We put money down and didn’t try to shift the inevitable to get something now that we will only be able to afford later. And we’ve set aside our 3 month contingency account for the rainy days. All that and we’re in a comfortable enough position that we’ll be able to sell in three years and make money on the deal. No, it’s no palace and it’s hardly big enough for us to even grow into, but you know what? It’s ours and we love it. And you know what else? I’m taking responsibility for the debts I did procure and I’m not ashamed of it. Sure, I had a lot to learn but that is my own responsibility. If the time should ever arise that we are unable to afford our 3 bedroom love shack, I’m not going to blame our mortgage broker for getting us into a 30-year fixed loan or the real estate agent for steering us to the already flipped digs of the suburbs. No, I’m going to remember that I am an adult and that I read the fine print and that I understand exactly what I am doing with my money.
So, in a nutshell, there’s not too much that can be done regarding the impending mortgage crisis because the money has been leant, the houses have been foreclosed and the banks are already in trouble but hopefully those people now renting instead of enjoying the many accolades of being a homeowner will remember the next time out... nothing comes that easily or that cheaply. Read the fine print and for gosh sakes, don’t over estimate what you can afford. Learn to live on what you make in cash and not what you wish you could afford. It’s worth your own well-being and worth not pushing your kids from a home they’ve come to know as their own into a rental that was just vacated by two 20 year olds and four five-month-old kegs.
Everyone has an opinion so I won’t shy away from delivering mine and to tell you the truth….I don’t blame any of the entities above. I blame the buyers. Pure and simple, it’s the buyers who, instead of weeping tears of false promises made by lenders and the like, should be ashamed that they are so stupid. Oh sure, some might say that I am out of line on this one because the “stupidity” factor is illogical considering the shear volume of borrowers in the same situation however when does one ask themselves, “this sounds too good to be true…is it too good to be true?” Of course it is stupid! No one who gets a $275,000 loan without a penny down and no principal payment for three years can expect not to have to pay the piper eventually. You read the small print on the contract right? I mean, you looked at the rate table and not just saw the steady increases to make up for the lost down payment, the up side down equity and the interest only payments but you comprehended it, right? So when you did figure on the doubling house payment, you just thought you’d magically be in a job market that allowed for an annual increase of at least 15% annually right? I mean, you just knew that you’d be making so much more money that you’d have no worries. Yeah, not so much (as my college girlfriends used to say).
It is absolutely ridiculous to think that not only does the US government have to shell out trillions of dollars to deadbeats who refuse to get a real job taking advantage of our welfare system and provide a steady flow of cash backing for credit card companies that allow stupid people to have ridiculously high limits on cards they couldn’t pay back in their lifetime if they lived a thousand years….but now, the government has to bail out the mortgage providers such as Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac so that some sort of reconciliation can be made to shareholders. And who are those shareholders? Certainly not the tens of thousands that defaulted on loans their asses couldn’t cash if the brown eye was made of gold and seeping diamond shit.
I am certainly not an expert in the sub-prime mortgage crisis other than anything I’ve read or seen in the news, however I can tell you a couple of things about being a consumer of credit and a new homeowner; When you charge up a credit card with frivolous purchases such as televisions and clothes or when you rack up your cards with “necessities” such as appliances and car repair, YOU and ONLY YOU are responsible to pay that back. When you purchase a home for more than you can afford, YOU and ONLY YOU are responsible to pay what needs to be paid in order to remain in the home. READ THE SMALL PRINT. It’s not there to give you a headache or to “trick” you into oblivion. It’s there to provide important, if not absolutely vital information with regard to your payments and what you are getting for signing on the dotted line. And just because you don't read it, or you skim it with an utter uncertaintly, doesn't mean the credit card company or loaning bank will forgive your debts. This is not a game. You can't just say, "oh I didn't know" and expect to be relieved of your duties.
I have credit cards and with them, I've accumulated a mother load of debt. And at times, I have racked up those credit cards beyond my means of paying them back. I have NO ONE to blame but MYSELF during those times. Although I hate the credit card companies and all they represent, they did not force me to purchase a round of drinks every night for two months at a seedy mexican restaurant. They did not force me to purchase my laptop computer on plastic because I didn’t have enough sense to start a simple savings account and pay cash when I could afford it. They did not force me to buy clothes from the Gap on plastic when I could have paid cash for something cheaper at Walmart. Sure, who really wants to shop at Walmart for clothes if they really don’t have to? Well, not many people but you know what? It sure beats having to wear the same “Gap” outfits for four years running because you’ve maxed out your credit cards and have no money to buy any new clothes, Walmart or not.
Now, yes, I am exaggerating a bit. I do not have any clothes that are more than two years old (other than my favorite Borne shoes from 2000) and I don’t really shop at Walmart for clothes. (Although their prices can’t be beat on household cleaners). But my point is clear. I have no one to blame for the $350 a month payment to the credit consolidation company for the last three years and for the next two years than me. I am reaping what I sewed years ago and there is no one else to blame but me.
The great thing about this whole crisis though is that there is light at the end of the tunnel. It’s now a buyer’s market and even I could afford a home. Yes, I’m a homeowner and a smart one at that. I didn’t get talked into these silly ARM loans so that I could live in a bigger home now. No, I took my time, played the game conservatively and most importantly, educated myself. I bought a home I could afford. We’re locked in at a mortgage we can afford (with or without a two-income household) for 30 years…with no surprise increases or unprecedented interest rate hikes. We put money down and didn’t try to shift the inevitable to get something now that we will only be able to afford later. And we’ve set aside our 3 month contingency account for the rainy days. All that and we’re in a comfortable enough position that we’ll be able to sell in three years and make money on the deal. No, it’s no palace and it’s hardly big enough for us to even grow into, but you know what? It’s ours and we love it. And you know what else? I’m taking responsibility for the debts I did procure and I’m not ashamed of it. Sure, I had a lot to learn but that is my own responsibility. If the time should ever arise that we are unable to afford our 3 bedroom love shack, I’m not going to blame our mortgage broker for getting us into a 30-year fixed loan or the real estate agent for steering us to the already flipped digs of the suburbs. No, I’m going to remember that I am an adult and that I read the fine print and that I understand exactly what I am doing with my money.
So, in a nutshell, there’s not too much that can be done regarding the impending mortgage crisis because the money has been leant, the houses have been foreclosed and the banks are already in trouble but hopefully those people now renting instead of enjoying the many accolades of being a homeowner will remember the next time out... nothing comes that easily or that cheaply. Read the fine print and for gosh sakes, don’t over estimate what you can afford. Learn to live on what you make in cash and not what you wish you could afford. It’s worth your own well-being and worth not pushing your kids from a home they’ve come to know as their own into a rental that was just vacated by two 20 year olds and four five-month-old kegs.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Camping with Guns and Keystone Light
As events have surfaced in recent months, I have come to realize that even the most complicated relationships flourish with the application of a little TLC once in a while. Case in point: My father and I.
For years now, my dad and I have been on a limited contact and conversation scale. We’ve seen one another on a rare bases, (meaning just holidays) and our discussion surrounds the obligatory; “How’s work?” and “What are the boys up too?” Up until three months ago, I didn’t see a real need to expand our self-restricted communication for fear I may have to explain my absence in his and my younger brother’s lives up to this point. Well, as “luck may have it” (for lack of any better of a point driver) our lives have intertwined again so that constant contact is necessary, if not now preferred. Dad was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer about three months ago and as things go, it’s an advanced case. When he told me, I was shocked but mostly, I just wanted to hold him. I completely forgot about the last 16 years and how painful our separation was or how hard it had been on me all this time. I just wanted to be there for him. No questions asked, no explanations needed. I just wanted to help him. I guess that’s what daddy’s little girl does when the chips are down. Bet the whole hand or go home. I’m all in ….my cards are face up, on the table and lying in the middle of the table is my heart. It’s the right thing to do….because it’s what my heart says is the right thing to do.
And if the cancer weren’t clue enough that family is a connection we should never take for granted, C’s dad was killed just three weeks ago in a terrible motor cycle accident. He was taken far too soon from C and C’s brother and C’s step-mom and step brothers, and cousins, nieces, nephews, and everyone in that small town that was mesmorized by this man’s shear heart and commanding presence; and you know what? He was taken from me and Kat (C’s brother’s girl) before we even got the chance to really know him. And what really makes me angry is that he was taken from my children, before they were even born, before they could even mutter “papa” to him. I am so sad for C but mostly I’m feeling helpless. What can I say to make it better? What does one do to console someone for a loss that is unexplainable and outright purposterous? I don’t know.
All I know now is; we have to recognize that life is a fleeting thing and that harboring a single negative thought or fostering a momentary passive judgement is in defiance of a life given to us from the heavens that can so easily be taken away. In a matter of seconds, our whole life, the perspective from which we were raised, our being and any emotion carried there-in can become irrelevant or can be changed to something unrecognizable. It’s up to us to value those in our lives, no matter how fleeting their role or how miniscule their appearance. I’m bound by a constant reminder that life is but a hand dealt to us from someone or something we cannot even comprehend and that our hand, whether it be illustrious or minimal, has to be played smarter and better than we even thought possible.
So thanks to C and my dad, I got one more weekend, one more history lesson, one more target practice to file into the memory file of my mind. Camping with Guns and Keystone Light is the best thing I’ve done in a really long time. Here’s praying for more great weekends. Even though it will never be enough, at least now I get it……
For years now, my dad and I have been on a limited contact and conversation scale. We’ve seen one another on a rare bases, (meaning just holidays) and our discussion surrounds the obligatory; “How’s work?” and “What are the boys up too?” Up until three months ago, I didn’t see a real need to expand our self-restricted communication for fear I may have to explain my absence in his and my younger brother’s lives up to this point. Well, as “luck may have it” (for lack of any better of a point driver) our lives have intertwined again so that constant contact is necessary, if not now preferred. Dad was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer about three months ago and as things go, it’s an advanced case. When he told me, I was shocked but mostly, I just wanted to hold him. I completely forgot about the last 16 years and how painful our separation was or how hard it had been on me all this time. I just wanted to be there for him. No questions asked, no explanations needed. I just wanted to help him. I guess that’s what daddy’s little girl does when the chips are down. Bet the whole hand or go home. I’m all in ….my cards are face up, on the table and lying in the middle of the table is my heart. It’s the right thing to do….because it’s what my heart says is the right thing to do.
And if the cancer weren’t clue enough that family is a connection we should never take for granted, C’s dad was killed just three weeks ago in a terrible motor cycle accident. He was taken far too soon from C and C’s brother and C’s step-mom and step brothers, and cousins, nieces, nephews, and everyone in that small town that was mesmorized by this man’s shear heart and commanding presence; and you know what? He was taken from me and Kat (C’s brother’s girl) before we even got the chance to really know him. And what really makes me angry is that he was taken from my children, before they were even born, before they could even mutter “papa” to him. I am so sad for C but mostly I’m feeling helpless. What can I say to make it better? What does one do to console someone for a loss that is unexplainable and outright purposterous? I don’t know.
All I know now is; we have to recognize that life is a fleeting thing and that harboring a single negative thought or fostering a momentary passive judgement is in defiance of a life given to us from the heavens that can so easily be taken away. In a matter of seconds, our whole life, the perspective from which we were raised, our being and any emotion carried there-in can become irrelevant or can be changed to something unrecognizable. It’s up to us to value those in our lives, no matter how fleeting their role or how miniscule their appearance. I’m bound by a constant reminder that life is but a hand dealt to us from someone or something we cannot even comprehend and that our hand, whether it be illustrious or minimal, has to be played smarter and better than we even thought possible.
So thanks to C and my dad, I got one more weekend, one more history lesson, one more target practice to file into the memory file of my mind. Camping with Guns and Keystone Light is the best thing I’ve done in a really long time. Here’s praying for more great weekends. Even though it will never be enough, at least now I get it……
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Little Criminals….Some things never change.
So times, they say, are-a-changin’. However, in the case of teenager mischief, it seems that time just seems to stand still, in my neighborhood anyway. Oh sure, teens now have to walk through metal detectors to get to home room and they are in constant communication with one another through text messages and myspace, but you see, when it comes to criminal mischief, at least the non-lethal description, kids are still kids.
I had to laugh a little as I lazily crossed the threshold of our entry way this morning and peeked out the paned window of our front door. I expected to see little other than a cat crossing the empty street and the paper laying calmly on the drive when I noticed the mail box was missing. “I’ve got to make a missing mailbox report right away.” I thought, as I draped my shoulders with a light sweater so I could go outside to begin my investigation. “Where could it have gone?” I asked myself. As I descended the stair case to the front yard, I realized that the mail box was not “missing” as I has initially suspected. Oh no, it was there on the ground behind our unsuspecting vehicle but in my haste to believe there is still goodness in the world and that the mail box top had simply “fallen off” or been “blown off” by a fierce wind, I spied an unsightly accomplice to the “crime” for which I hadn’t realized we were victims. A HUGE rock occupied the curve just below the tail pipe of my 12 year old Subaru….well okay, I guess HUGE is a bit mellow-dramatic; it was a huge rock for our neighborhood considering the only rocks visible in our cul-de-sac bare a canny resemblance to small river bottom dwellers for ground cover and the look of smart drive-way paving over what was previously referred to as the dead zone for the dead grass and swelling weed roots.
You’d think my reaction would be to stomp my way back up the drive to call the non-emergency number for the policy department. Instead of getting even remotely upset though, I imagined a small 14-year old girl about the size of a field mouse lifting that rock as far behind her right shoulder as possible and with her entire puny little body, lobbing the rock with all her might the required five feet to knock the hollow aluminum tube to the ground. I imagined that she laughed excitedly as the box flipped on its side and flung through the air crashing on the cement. I then smiled as I saw her face light up when her friends started to laugh as they ran toward the playground just situated a few hundred feet and several guarding trees away. I could hear her laughing and cussing the “s” word as she began to run after them. “You guys, wait for me…I think I heard something”……
After imagining the ruffled voices of teenage late-night wonderers and a fumbled get-away attempt into the night, as there was no plan nor plot to assert an escape, it occurred to me what a great neighborhood we do live in now. I smiled as I remembered the fear (and loathing) that living in the city had become and I began to thank the upper-floor bosses for the many blessings home ownership has brought to us. The illegible spray painted graffiti of the “north side posse” and the “west side mafia” on the bricks of several houses were no where to be found as we had so often awoke to in the city. The sounds of glass shattering and screeches of tires as car jackers sped away into obscurity were no longer audible. Strange cars dropping by momentarily at the neighbors condemned home to pick up a “stash” were a problem only the inner city dwellers had to worry about now. No more gun shots just down the alley way at 2:00 am or sirens around the clock up and down Lowell Boulevard. We were in the suburbs now, and it finally felt real and formidable.
As I swayed to the side of the lawn to pick up the deformed remnants of what was once our pristine mail box, I realized that these kids, while demonstrating blatant disrespect for our property which should be unacceptable, were only being kids. Sure they cost us about $60 in new materials and measurable time to rectify the situation so that we might receive our mail, but all in all, they were only doing what kids in these neighborhoods have been doing for decades…..playing a mindless game of “Mail Box” baseball or what I like to refer in this case as “Mail Box Discus”…..after all, preparation for the upcoming Olympics could have been an inspiring factor to attempt such a feat with a rock of such magnitude. I know, I know, it is not right to condone such behavior and you should know that I don’t condone it at all. I did file a police report this afternoon however this incident, seemingly , has only made me feel like the world still turns at an even pace.
See, I once participated in the game of mail box baseball when I was in high school. Now, for the record, I was a puny little 14 year old that could barely balance the wooded baseball bat out the window and due to my fear of flailing too far out of the sun roof resulting in my immanent injury, I was never able to actually strike a mail box, but I sure did laugh all the way back to some chump’s house after the criminal activity. And while I knew then and certainly am aware of now, it was a criminal act of vandalism that probably forced some 30 something couple to shell out hard earned cash to cover the damages…I also felt like it wasn’t all that bad. Sure we were damaging property but come on….we were kids. And heck, at least we didn’t have guns on us and we weren't holding up convenience stores in our cheerleading outfits or hog-tying and brutally beating our classmates. We were having some honest to goodness, old fashion fun. And yes, we did pay the piper after getting caught. We had to repay the damages and never attempted such stupidity again, but man, it was fun….and the thing is…..we weren’t drinking, and we weren’t doing drugs. We were just bored kids trying to pass some time and have a little crazy fun. Now, thank god no one got hurt…because we’d be having a totally different conversation but they were good times and seemed harmless enough at the time.
All of that being said, I do know that the police will now be stepping up patrols in our neighborhood past curfew to stale these little degenerates…but it sure was fun to see that kids are not really ALL bad these days….at least until the rock lands through the front room window….then we’ll be discussing a blog with very negative tones.
Take care all and stay safe!
I had to laugh a little as I lazily crossed the threshold of our entry way this morning and peeked out the paned window of our front door. I expected to see little other than a cat crossing the empty street and the paper laying calmly on the drive when I noticed the mail box was missing. “I’ve got to make a missing mailbox report right away.” I thought, as I draped my shoulders with a light sweater so I could go outside to begin my investigation. “Where could it have gone?” I asked myself. As I descended the stair case to the front yard, I realized that the mail box was not “missing” as I has initially suspected. Oh no, it was there on the ground behind our unsuspecting vehicle but in my haste to believe there is still goodness in the world and that the mail box top had simply “fallen off” or been “blown off” by a fierce wind, I spied an unsightly accomplice to the “crime” for which I hadn’t realized we were victims. A HUGE rock occupied the curve just below the tail pipe of my 12 year old Subaru….well okay, I guess HUGE is a bit mellow-dramatic; it was a huge rock for our neighborhood considering the only rocks visible in our cul-de-sac bare a canny resemblance to small river bottom dwellers for ground cover and the look of smart drive-way paving over what was previously referred to as the dead zone for the dead grass and swelling weed roots.
You’d think my reaction would be to stomp my way back up the drive to call the non-emergency number for the policy department. Instead of getting even remotely upset though, I imagined a small 14-year old girl about the size of a field mouse lifting that rock as far behind her right shoulder as possible and with her entire puny little body, lobbing the rock with all her might the required five feet to knock the hollow aluminum tube to the ground. I imagined that she laughed excitedly as the box flipped on its side and flung through the air crashing on the cement. I then smiled as I saw her face light up when her friends started to laugh as they ran toward the playground just situated a few hundred feet and several guarding trees away. I could hear her laughing and cussing the “s” word as she began to run after them. “You guys, wait for me…I think I heard something”……
After imagining the ruffled voices of teenage late-night wonderers and a fumbled get-away attempt into the night, as there was no plan nor plot to assert an escape, it occurred to me what a great neighborhood we do live in now. I smiled as I remembered the fear (and loathing) that living in the city had become and I began to thank the upper-floor bosses for the many blessings home ownership has brought to us. The illegible spray painted graffiti of the “north side posse” and the “west side mafia” on the bricks of several houses were no where to be found as we had so often awoke to in the city. The sounds of glass shattering and screeches of tires as car jackers sped away into obscurity were no longer audible. Strange cars dropping by momentarily at the neighbors condemned home to pick up a “stash” were a problem only the inner city dwellers had to worry about now. No more gun shots just down the alley way at 2:00 am or sirens around the clock up and down Lowell Boulevard. We were in the suburbs now, and it finally felt real and formidable.
As I swayed to the side of the lawn to pick up the deformed remnants of what was once our pristine mail box, I realized that these kids, while demonstrating blatant disrespect for our property which should be unacceptable, were only being kids. Sure they cost us about $60 in new materials and measurable time to rectify the situation so that we might receive our mail, but all in all, they were only doing what kids in these neighborhoods have been doing for decades…..playing a mindless game of “Mail Box” baseball or what I like to refer in this case as “Mail Box Discus”…..after all, preparation for the upcoming Olympics could have been an inspiring factor to attempt such a feat with a rock of such magnitude. I know, I know, it is not right to condone such behavior and you should know that I don’t condone it at all. I did file a police report this afternoon however this incident, seemingly , has only made me feel like the world still turns at an even pace.
See, I once participated in the game of mail box baseball when I was in high school. Now, for the record, I was a puny little 14 year old that could barely balance the wooded baseball bat out the window and due to my fear of flailing too far out of the sun roof resulting in my immanent injury, I was never able to actually strike a mail box, but I sure did laugh all the way back to some chump’s house after the criminal activity. And while I knew then and certainly am aware of now, it was a criminal act of vandalism that probably forced some 30 something couple to shell out hard earned cash to cover the damages…I also felt like it wasn’t all that bad. Sure we were damaging property but come on….we were kids. And heck, at least we didn’t have guns on us and we weren't holding up convenience stores in our cheerleading outfits or hog-tying and brutally beating our classmates. We were having some honest to goodness, old fashion fun. And yes, we did pay the piper after getting caught. We had to repay the damages and never attempted such stupidity again, but man, it was fun….and the thing is…..we weren’t drinking, and we weren’t doing drugs. We were just bored kids trying to pass some time and have a little crazy fun. Now, thank god no one got hurt…because we’d be having a totally different conversation but they were good times and seemed harmless enough at the time.
All of that being said, I do know that the police will now be stepping up patrols in our neighborhood past curfew to stale these little degenerates…but it sure was fun to see that kids are not really ALL bad these days….at least until the rock lands through the front room window….then we’ll be discussing a blog with very negative tones.
Take care all and stay safe!
Monday, July 14, 2008
Styling the Truth or Just Saying It
The economy is in the toilet, there's only the choice between the lessor of two evils for the upcoming presidential election (for which I still have not decided which is lesser), cancer swells in the blood of too many people I know and death is a stench by which I've become entirely too familiar. Love has blossomed oh so grandly only to be cursed by past remembrance of mistakes gone by and the lessons looming for this 30-something soul.
My name is Sally and I'm an aspiring writer...meaning more aspiring and less writer really. I tried my hand at blogging some years ago to a minimal fan base only to give up the dream to focus on a new love life and a much less inspiring job. The love life still exists and although it is not so new, three years just passed, it's none the less more inspiring than anything I could have imagined. And the job...well the job is the job and while I enjoy what I do...writing is still my ticket out of the 8 to 5, Monday through Friday grind. I dream forward to the day that I can gaze out my second story window toward a snowy peak and trace a story from my mind onto a blank canvas for all to read. I've tried my hand at starting a novella only to be stalled by one cause or another and most recently I've penned a few articles for a local polo charity tournament that has yielded only those attendees as my reader base. It'll happen; now, later.... but I'm pretty darn sure it'll happen.
My goal for this blog is to be completely open and honest regarding personal issues requiring reflection as well as pop culture issues including but not limited to love, family, sex, career, politics and tongue in cheek banter where celebrities and sudo-reality shows make stars of the most undeserving of all creatures....unless of course those celebs and reality show "stars" contribute in some significant way to the earth or procreation or something of that nature. I invite you to be the judge and please feel free to banter, discuss and in some cases outright correct the revelations of this page. You are my audience and my mentor....I look forward to the beginning of a very truthful relationship
My name is Sally and I'm an aspiring writer...meaning more aspiring and less writer really. I tried my hand at blogging some years ago to a minimal fan base only to give up the dream to focus on a new love life and a much less inspiring job. The love life still exists and although it is not so new, three years just passed, it's none the less more inspiring than anything I could have imagined. And the job...well the job is the job and while I enjoy what I do...writing is still my ticket out of the 8 to 5, Monday through Friday grind. I dream forward to the day that I can gaze out my second story window toward a snowy peak and trace a story from my mind onto a blank canvas for all to read. I've tried my hand at starting a novella only to be stalled by one cause or another and most recently I've penned a few articles for a local polo charity tournament that has yielded only those attendees as my reader base. It'll happen; now, later.... but I'm pretty darn sure it'll happen.
My goal for this blog is to be completely open and honest regarding personal issues requiring reflection as well as pop culture issues including but not limited to love, family, sex, career, politics and tongue in cheek banter where celebrities and sudo-reality shows make stars of the most undeserving of all creatures....unless of course those celebs and reality show "stars" contribute in some significant way to the earth or procreation or something of that nature. I invite you to be the judge and please feel free to banter, discuss and in some cases outright correct the revelations of this page. You are my audience and my mentor....I look forward to the beginning of a very truthful relationship
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