Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays

"Many Christian theologians have moved resolutely away from an exclusive Christology. Today Christology has become (or rebecome) inclusive….” ~Paul F. Knitter

It’s the most wonderful time of the year – where people become divisive about religion.  The angst of “Happy Holidays,” the “share this status if you believe…”

So many contradictions

When in the continuum of Christ theocracy did it become acceptable to exclude people? As one who lives on the fringe of acceptable society, I find exclusion troubling. 

I celebrate Christmas and I say “Merry Christmas” with great joy.  However, I know many who don’t celebrate Christmas.  I see nothing wrong with saying “Happy Holidays.”  Christmas, Chanukah, and New Year’s Day are within a week of each other this year.  This is a Holiday period that INCLUDES Christmas, so why EXCLUDE – Isn’t that the Christian thing to do (you know, that “love thy neighbor” thing… taken from the Torah)?  I do not do it to be politically correct; I do it to share with ALL in the joy of the season.  If you find “Happy Holidays” or anything other than a specific reference to Christ offensive, then remove your “Christmas” tree (ancient pre-Christ Middle Eastern practice condemned in the Bible,(Jeremiah 10: 2-4) and rethink Black Friday and all of the great bargains you are getting in the name of Christmas. 

As I write, I sit here listening to Christmas Carols.  Nice pagan practice in celebration of the Winter Solstice that was taken over by the ancient Roman and Greek Orthodox churches.  I don’t feel particularly blasphemous doing this.

Christmas as we know it today is a combination of many practices and rituals from many cultures and religions.  Does this in any way diminish it?  No.  I find that it makes it richer.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays

What I Should Have Said

It is one of those classic situations.  A comment is made, you are caught off guard and mutter something vapid, then later think of a thousand great responses.

I was on a sidewalk when a woman walking her two little rats on a split leash strolled right into my path.  I could either stop or get out of the way.  Since it was a busy sidewalk, I had to do an ungraceful twist to avoid squashing one of the little bugs.  She stops, looks at me with an expression like she just smelled something bad and says, “Smile, it’s really not that tragic.” 

Oh, the possibilities…

I fought my immediate urge to blurt out something rude. I am still not sure why.  I felt the bitchy bile boil up and I swallowed it in all its bitterness.  Instead, I said “You’re right, it is not tragic.”  Unfortunately, that only emboldened her further.  “I don’t know what your problem is…”  WTF?!?

Again, the possibilities…

I just wanted to get past it (and her) so I said “I was not looking at you.”  I might as well have said, “Yeah… well you too!” or some other lame, dumbass thing.  For some reason my filter was fully engaged and all the myriad possibilities just vanished in the evening breeze.

It took only seconds for the “You know what I should have said?” to kick in. 

First, the facts… she had a scowl the whole time she was telling me to smile.  Maybe she was smiling in her mind, but the amount of cosmetic surgery over the years allowed only the rictus grin I saw.  Her little rat dogs were way too far ahead on the leash than one would expect in polite society.  Oh, that’s right, I live in Florida… ain’t nothin’ polite about it.  Her age inappropriate clothing only added to the picture that screamed “IT’S ALL ABOUT ME!!!”… and I reacted to none of it.  I suppose I should be proud of myself for not stooping to her level, but it would have felt soooooo good to throw it all back at her.

OK, I need to get it out of my system.  WHAT I SHOULD HAVE SAID:

“Have you looked in a mirror lately?  Now that’s tragic!”  

“I am smiling.  I just stepped on one of your dogs.”

“Oh, that’s just me not giving a crap about what you think”

“Wow… have you saved those clothes since the 70’s?”

“I’ll smile when you can.  Maybe your surgeon can sew one for you.”

You get the idea.  Call it a missed opportunity, momentary lapse of reason, or just being someplace else mentally.  I promise I will not let this happen again… I have a reputation to uphold.

All that Jazz…

…and every other style of music. 

My world has taken a serious turn toward seriously handling my music seriously.  I’m serious.

I will not rehash what I just wrote in my other blog eSyrup, which you can access from my profile page, hint, hint…  But let it suffice to say that I am focused.  Between managing my Facebook music page, SoundCloud page, and my other blog, I am flooding myself toward a singular purpose – getting back in the studio and making new music.

By taking on all of this, I am giving myself a boot in the appropriate place.  From a young age, I spent a lot of time with my music and it exploded in the ‘80’s.  First, performing in a couple of bands, and then creating a home studio where I composed and recorded feverishly.  Then, in 1998, it stopped.

What happened in 1998?  I quit my job of 20 years and bought a Bed and Breakfast.  Aside from the fact that it was a 24/7 business, it was not exactly conducive to playing and recording.  Knowing I did not have a place for my piano, drums, PA system, keyboard stands, and lots of miscellaneous goodies, I either sold them or put them in storage.  The electronics left in storage for five years did not survive and I just couldn’t get it together enough to build it all from the pieces I had left – let alone the cost of replacing what was gone.

But I did…slowly.  Now I am at the point where I can pick up where I left off.  Still, finding the motivation has not been forthcoming.  That’s where the boot in the butt comes in.  I have now put myself out there in the virtual world.  I have only a limited amount of properly recorded material that is suitable for public consumption.  Soon, I will need something new… and that spells motivation.

My life has been less than balanced these days.  I have known all along that music is the answer.  It is my passion and something I will always have the desire to do.  It is also something I can do that is a unique artistic expression – and that is important to me.

So enough of all that jazz… let’s play!

Precious Little…

…Time. 

Everybody wants money.  If you don’t think so, ask yourself if you would go to work if you didn’t get paid.  Me either.  Can you make too much money?  I don’t think it is something I will have to deal with so that’s a moot point.  Can you be satisfied with your pay?  Probably, but for me it comes down to the simple fact of paying the bills in an area with a cost of living that is far too high and a mortgage so far underwater that I need scuba gear (my only poor timing in real estate so far… and a bad one).

But money isn’t everything.  I left a damn good job at with a very good company at the peak of my career during the 90’s to follow a dream.  It was absolutely 110% worth it and I would not trade the experience for anything – no regrets.  Unfortunately, life’s little twists and turns resulted in a sharp left turn in the Master Plan of life to the road of Simply Making It.  It is better than that dirt road of Not Making it… but I digress.

What is it that I really wanted during my early, lucrative career, my rewarding self employment, and my current “they call it a non-profit for a reason” work history?  Time.

I see my work calendar as the space between time off.  I am fortunate in that I work in a place with a generous time off policy, so there is ample opportunity to take vacations or an extended weekend like I am taking right now.  The problem is how I spend that time.  It seems that I have mastered the art of doing nothing.  I could say that health issues force me to take it slower than I used to, but that is not the heart of the matter (no pun intended).  We live in a country where we are encouraged to (tragically, literally) work ourselves to death.  While I am not a death’s door, I am not exactly a kid anymore.  Every week, this takes its toll and I spend so much time just decompressing that I usually accomplish very little every weekend. 

Here I am at day 2 of a four day weekend.  Yesterday I played with my tech toys, read, listened to music, read, sent emails, sent texts, listened to music, played with tech toys… etc.  None of this is bad, but I have so much that needs to be done and right now, I have the time to do it.  There is that damned Puritanical Work Ethic again (Damn those bloody Puritans!).  It even seeps into our personal lives – not that I am doing anything about it other than feeling guilty.

Precious time.  Part of me feels that I should treat it like the precious commodity that it is.  Part of me thinks that maybe, I am.

Late

I hated you.  Hate is a strong and ugly word; one that I claim is not in my vocabulary, but there it is.  I didn’t want the hate.  I didn’t want the burden, I didn’t want anyone to have enough power over me to bring me to that point, but you did.

I loved you.  I thought I had found something honest and true and powerful and it would carry me through the rest of my life.  I was insanely in love and insanely naïve.  I believed every word you said and I had to guard it carefully because no one could know.  It rose to a fever pitch and just as abruptly, it ended.  Actually, that is wrong.  If it ended, I would have been spared years of pain, therapy, and having to tear my life apart so I could rebuild it.  In a single moment, you told me the words that made me realize I gambled on love and lost two people.  One of those people suffered a great deal and I will never be able to let that go, nor will I be able to tell them the truth.

I learned about alcoholic behavior from you.  Pull me close, push me away, pull me close, push me away… over and over.  I believed the midnight tales of possibility that vaporized in the morning light.  When I discovered the truth, that I was nothing more than a diversion but also a potential liability, I was furious.  On our last meeting your behavior was so appalling that I became physically ill.

I found some of the best and dearest friends through you.  They should have been lifetime friends, but through manipulation and lies, they are now lost to me as well.  Your undeniable charisma drew people close and your brilliance was blinding.  It is no surprise that so many were blind to the truth.  On that last meeting, I saw through clear eyes for the first time.  I looked around and saw the actor on the stage and all of the audience rapt with tears in their eyes.  Well played – as was I.

I read your obituary today.  A little late, it was from six months ago.  In all of that time, no one told me.  So it seems that I, your dirty little secret, is safe and is literally taken to the grave.  I protected you to the end.

I am angry, I grieve, I am disappointed in myself for carrying this unnecessary burden these last ten years.  It is such a confusion of emotions that I am not sure what it all means.  In the end, I suppose it turns out that it means nothing.   I have nothing left but emptiness where there was once something so strong.

No one really knows who lives here but you and God and me.  None of us are about to tell.

Goodbye.



We have seen Big Brother…

…and he is us.


I don’t consider myself to be paranoid, but I do believe in a measure of caution (usually). In the virtual world, the same rules should apply to the physical world – some do and some don’t. The way you behave in public should be the same way you behave on the internet. Unfortunately, I can be equally inappropriate in both places. Most of this is in an attempt at humor and often it goes wrong. Do not believe for a minute that hitting the delete button erases your indiscretions.


Facebook, YouTube, Flicker (or any other photo sites), Twitter, Foursquare, etc, etc, etc… we are putting ourselves out there. While in a perfect world these are fun, benign distractions, things can go terribly wrong.

I know two people who have lost their jobs from Facebook postings. I know (at least) one person who, if a certain YouTube video is discovered, would be in serious trouble – at very least, seriously embarrassed. While the narcissistic world of Twitter is generally too filled with meaningless trash to even notice, law enforcement is paying attention and making arrests of idiots who tweet their deeds and locations. Perhaps most disturbing is Foursquare. Aside from the obvious (?) fact that we really don’t care where you are every moment of the day, here is something to ponder. Physicians (or their minions) are tracking patient activity on Foursquare to see behavior patterns, i.e. the nightly barhopping you like to tell us all about.

All of this is avoidable… or is it? I just saw a posting where someone sent what they thought to be a discreetly handled letter about a very personal (and very embarrassing) matter and it wound up on the internet. Still avoidable? Probably… if you want to go off the social grid or if you are a boyscout choirboy priest… can’t find a good analogy, but you get my point, you can avoid it.

Will I change my behavior? I already have. Will I keep all of this in mind when I am roaming the virtual pathways? You bet. Will I ever sign up for Foursquare? I doubt it.

So the next time you complain on Facebook or any other social media about your job, family, friends… you have just given more power to Big Brother. Who, by the way, is you.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

There be beasties here – ghosts and apparitions that are only seen out of the corner of the eye.  Then there are the ones who hit you with a 2 X 4 between the eyes.

After making every possible excuse to avoid it, it took five years to make a return trip to New Jersey.  Mind you, on my last trip I was here less than two days and my reason was to set up a storage unit on my move from Maine to Florida.  Don’t ask why I stored things in New Jersey, I may have to start self flagellating again and we don’t want that.  On that trip, I saw only one of my sisters, my mother (for the last time) and an Esperanto speaking moving van guy who would say “gooly goo” or something like that to which I would smile and nod – little did I know that meant help yourself to my stuff and overcharge me, please.

If it were only to empty the storage unit, I probably would not have made the trip.  So far, and the $$$ are still adding up, it will take about five years of not paying storage fees to make up for the cost of this trip.  Flying into Newark (on purpose), renting a car and driving to the middle of nowhere is far more expensive than you might think. 

And then there are the ghosts.

Many occupied the storage unit itself.  In there were cast aside remnants of my business, my marriage, the marriage of my business, the business of my marriage, Christmas decorations (yay!), my grandmother’s antique china, original artwork, journals, photos… no climate control and all were incredibly in perfect condition.  I think I bested Dorian Gray on that score. 

Between cleanup, trips to the UPS store, and meeting the unit’s grim reaper – the trash hauler – I had some time to explore the area.  The most remarkable thing is how little has changed in the 13 years since I moved from here.  Some businesses have closed, others opened, a new house here and there, abandoned (foreclosed) houses… but for that amount of time the change is insignificant.  I almost wish some of it was wiped off the earth but even that could not keep the ghosts at bay.

I saw my old house, the places I used to go, where I used to work… all carried bittersweet memories.  I have both demonized and romanticized this place.  Actually being here has been a good reality check and an opportunity to put some things to rest.  Nothing is ever completely resolved and may continue to haunt, but haunt away… I will not be here.

Then there is what finally tipped the scales in favor of making this trip - an opportunity to spend time with my very dear friend Scott.  Our escapades over the past 30 years, not to be outdone by yesterday’s whirlwind tour of the seamy underbelly of the Dover bar scene is a story, make that several stories, in itself.  Let it suffice to say that as usual, we had a great time and actually got out alive and unharmed.  If you know the area, you appreciate what that means.

As my thoughts turn to leaving this place for possibly the last time, something occurs to me.  Maybe, just maybe, now I will be a ghost who haunts this place.

Boo.

Tell Me Your Deepest Thoughts in 25 Characters or Less

There is really no excuse for this great cessation of writing. All of my friends who met on Y360 know how prolific we were and how it suddenly stopped when they pulled the plug. There are some exceptions, but we don’t write they way we used to just a few years ago.

We regrouped on Facebook, happy to come together again… but we didn’t write. No poignant stories of friends and family, no poetry, no classic rants, no travel adventures, no humorous stories… just status updates about the most mundane aspects of day to day living. It’s not because Facebook doesn’t provide vehicles for writing. Networked Blogs will link and post to Facebook. The Notes section allows you to write, include pictures, and allow for comments, just like 360. But still, there is very little of that.

We all have reasons for not writing anymore but have all our lives really changed all that much in the past few years? Perhaps… but I suspect another reason. Y360 was centered on the blog. It was a writer’s forum that grew to allow picture galleries, status updates, and other things that would look familiar to the casual Facebook user... but it was always about the writing. Facebook, on the other hand, is not. It is becoming more of a business network tool than a place for meaningful social discourse. It encourages sound bites rather than stories, mundane rather than meaningful. Tell me your deepest thoughts in 25 characters or less but remember, your boss is watching. So are your relatives, coworkers, business contacts, prospective employers… and the people of Facebook.

I used to write frequently before 360. My writing exploded when I gathered friends there who were (and are) likeminded. I can still write and I can post to Facebook… but it has to be guarded, edited. I cannot do that.

Any suggestions? Remember before you answer, the eyes of the world are watching.

C is for Curmudgeon – Part II

The process started early, more than a few years ago... I think it is time to stop fighting the growing crankiness within and embrace my inner curmudgeon. I can imagine developing a classic sneer and sitting by the window yelling at kids, “Go where ya live!” Some among you think I already do this (shut up, Patrick). I assure you I am not there yet…

Until then, I feel the need to share (unload, gripe) some things that grind my ass to the bone, and at my current weight, getting to the bone takes some doing. Random thoughts in no particular order:


If you have to say “long story short,” probably you have said too much already.

When did the word “invite” become a noun?

For most “customer service” call centers, anywhere in the world, you can make the call, then walk, drive, or fly there, pick up the phone and talk to yourself. Chances are you know more anyway.

I truly believe that most people in South Florida have fried their brains in the sun. It is the only thing that could account for the way they drive, walk out in front of moving cars, park in a way that blocks your car, and otherwise behave poorly in public - blocking grocery store aisles for inane conversation, unaware of the long line behind them as they tell their life story at the pharmacy, no volume control or any concept of an “indoor voice,” etc., etc., etc.

I am old enough to remember when smoking was permitted everywhere. I believe it is human nature to switch addictions rather than eliminate them altogether. Cell phones are the new cigarettes. Get up, have coffee, enjoy that first smooth call of the day. Get in your car, start the engine, make that call (see poor driving reference above). Grab the grocery cart, make a call (ditto). Have a drink, dial a friend. Of course, you can always double your pleasure – grab a cigarette, grab your phone. Let’s not forget texting – the lite cigarettes of the cell phone world….

I like it around your neck like a feedbag.

I am really tired of hearing about the “Sanctity of Marriage,” and the ridiculous notions of what are considered threats to it. If you want to preserve your sanctimonious notion, then why aren’t you working to make divorce illegal? Then, one man and one woman, you are stuck with each other for life, ‘till death do you part – you know, that vow you took...

What exactly is “a whole nother?” Yes, I know it’s a thing.

Best quote I’ve heard recently – “I think it’s an unbelievably tight race for hideous today.” – Michael Kors

Second best quote – “If I hadn’t told Stumpy to clean out the wood chipper by hand we’d still be calling him Uncle Ed.” – Sheldon’s mother from Big Bang Theory

…If you think any of this is negative, you are probably a Pollyanna. Ahhh… that felt good. Where’s my cell phone?

Community

“I personally think that each person has gifts to offer community. I gravitate to communities where people can bring themselves, their talents, their rich life experiences to community without being branded as "conceited," "remedial," or "outcast." What's one gift that you enjoy giving to community? What intangible gift did someone give to you that changed your life?”

I enjoy it when friends on Facebook ask interesting questions... but this is one question (actually two) that gave me pause. I don’t think that the soundbite nature of FB would allow for a proper answer. I know that I could probably come up with a few clever words that world fit in the little comment box, but this hit home in a way that a few words would not do justice. It touches upon something that has troubled me since so much changed nearly five years ago.

Sharon, who asked the question, was part of one community that was important to my life during a period when many communities formed and I had the great joy of finding a sense of belonging... and acceptance. It was as if someone was throwing pebbles into a pond and several circles formed. Each was expanding and grew to the point of overlapping. While these communities were composed of different people and for different reasons, there were common threads. We were more than individuals coming together; we were different people but like-minded in our pursuit and desire to seek something greater. There was great respect and even love in what we were able to share. This was multiplied by the sheer number of people I connected with in a short period of time. I doubt this will ever occur again, to this degree... it had its time and it served its purpose. Still... there remains an emptiness where there was once an abundance of fulfillment.

The pebbles sank, the ripples dispersed, and nothing since has taken its place. This phenomenon occurred when I needed it most. Almost as soon as the need changed, the communities faded and I moved on. Sadly, I do not feel much a part of anything these days. It seems that this is a time to sit back and reflect on what has been and what needs to be. The gifts from this time are the great lessons I learned from each individual and each community. I carry them with me and incorporate them into my daily life. You are all still with me when I reach out to others.

So, to answer your question Sharon, there are several gifts that I enjoy bringing to community. All are a part of what of what is unique to me, but not necessarily unique in itself... my sense of humor, the joy of listening in silence, providing half of what can become a connection, and most important of all, my heart. The latter comes with great risk, but has proven, again and again, to bring the greatest reward. Those very same intangible, yet palpable gifts from others are the ones that have changed my life.

You CAN go home again…

It was interesting to read David’s blog and get his perspective on visiting Maine during our visit last week. It was a trip I knew I would make at some point; finally the timing felt right. Initially, it was an idea about how to celebrate my birthday this year. Then when the governor signed legislation that would include the possibility of marriage into the mix, we started making plans. Unfortunately the voters overturned the legislation… fortunately, we took the trip anyway.

What can I say about a place where my combined vacationing and setting up residence and business spanned 25 years? It is the closest I have to calling any place home. For those who know me from Y360 days and followed my adventures at the end of time there, you know the mixed feelings I had. By the time I left, I truly believed that the island was as ready for me to leave as I was to leave it. The turbulent experience of my last years there certainly colored my perspective and it really felt like it was time to go. I had sold my business, I had kicked out my sociopath of a partner, I had a temporary place to live, I could not find a job… there was little to hold me there. Once I met David, the rest is, as they say, history.

So what would be my experience going back four years later? I was not sure what to expect. There were too many places to go, too many people to see… it was becoming more of a reunion tour than a vacation. I had to approach it like a vacation and let the fates do what they would. The fates were kind. Blissfully moderate weather, encountering a few good friends (missing a whole lot more) visiting favorite places (missing out on many others), and a general reminder of why I lived there.

Like David’s observation, no matter where you start out, you find yourself surrounded by natural beauty and get drawn in to the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of nature. This place was, and remains sacred ground for me. The reminders of why I left paled into insignificance against the backdrop of mountains and ocean, the smell of salt air and pine, the quiet that allows solitude to nourish the spirit. All of this and more graced us on our time there. But the best part was just that – us. For the first time, I was able to share the experience of the place I call home.

It seems you can go home again.

A Good Friday to you

Good Friday – April 14, 2006

“as a very shy and quiet child, I spent much of my time alone. There was something different about the time spent alone on Good Friday. It is where I discovered solitude. I learned reflection, without knowing it for what it was. These are not things that can be taught. It was a very early whisper of a call that I was not to realize until much later in life.

Today, I find my reflection and understanding of solitude to be different, but different only in its maturity. The reflective child remains... I doubt that will ever change. And I hope that somewhere, another child is touched by Good Friday, and feels a stirring within.”


Good Friday – April 6, 2007

I am conflicted. A year ago, I wrote, with conviction, about what Good Friday meant to me. Today, I am less clear about this, and my ever evolving spirituality. What remains unchanged is an understanding of reflection, solitude, and the need to remain connected to something greater. What has changed is how I now question some of my motivation and the events surrounding a spiritual awakening. Still… I know the power of a true spiritual connection and I keep the lines open, but there is a great silence. I also know that just because there is silence, it doesn’t mean that no one (or no One) is listening.


Good Friday – 2008, 2009… silence


Today – April 2, 2010

A very Good Friday to you. Whatever your belief, faith, philosophy, or conviction, I wish you a good day.

I am not writing to grieve for loss or to bemoan how life’s changes have led me far from a path that was very rich and rewarding. I am those changes. I am accountable. I am responsible.

Of this I am very glad, or dare I say, blessed… in spite of the changes and questioning of faith, I still observe Good Friday in my heart. I still set the day aside for solitude and reflection. The only difference this year from the previous two is that I am taking the time to write about it – something that has been very difficult and elusive of late.

I count my blessings in ways that, at one time, I never would have imagined possible. I grieve for losses that still surprise me. But, as always, there is balance. At times the balance is hard to see, but it is there nonetheless. I try to remember this every day. We may have many or few “things” but without hope, we have nothing.

My words are simple; my writing is pedestrian from lack of even attempting to put word to print. But that is not what is important to me today.

I think it best to allow silence to enter my day and just listen, without expectation, for what lives within.

Silent Scream

Social networking, business, family and friends are starting to blur. For several years, I have written freely about anything that is on my mind. But now there are too many eyes… eyes that would not understand or understand too well. Life in the virtual world has turned my house to glass and has left me with little to say – or little that I am willing to say.

In the words of Harlan Ellison, “I have no mouth and I must scream.”

Spirit

You were with me but I could not understand
You spoke not a word as you led the way
Through the aisles, through the door
You took me to the temple
And I thought it odd – it was not like you
But it was you just the same
Silently, you showed me how to give
And in silence I received
I turned to see you sitting, head in hands
But when I looked again you were gone
It was then I realized you left this world
These nine months ago
How can this be?
When I awoke, I was compelled
Not afraid nor filled with remorse…
Rather, blessed for having open eyes
To see you again
Just one more time

tjp 12/19/09

Six Years Later…

… and much has changed. There is no fireplace; there is no snow… no walk in the rain through the quiet town with friendly greetings that belie the inclement weather.

With gratitude, we welcome some cooler weather (some would laugh at what we consider cooler) that is far more conducive to believing this is actually Christmas week. I consider decorating a palm tree with surfboard and camp shirt lights to be a major bit of acceptance on my part. But this is where we are and this is where will stay (for now) so it is either fight it or accept and go along… I choose acceptance.

What is most important, however, is what has not changed. Sitting in silence, closing my eyes, I can still hear it. A gentle breeze, the sounds of Christmas music, the smells of baking… but more important is the feeling within… Memory is strong and tugs at things to remain unchanged. What I knew to be Christmas – the cold, the snow, the smell of pine and the warmth of a fire – impose upon what is real, what is really to the point.

Christmas may live in memory, but it also lives in the present. Pine trees or Palm trees, snow or sand… it is not important. The spirit that lives within knows not of these things, nor cares. It is in the heart, it is in the spirit, it is in all that we allow ourselves to recognize when we put the external distractions out of the way.

Six years ago, Father Jon made me smile with his open arms that made me feel welcome in a place where I was a stranger. Today, the memory makes me smile despite feeling a stranger in a place stranger still. Maybe it makes me smile because of it.

Merry Christmas

Claire… Look what I found!!!

This morning was the first visit to the newly renovated local neighborhood Target. It is the first time we have been there since it was transformed in to a “Super Target.” Now, I realize that I am in the minority on this one, but even before it was “Super,” Target has never been one of my favorite places to shop (sorry, JJ). The thought of a “Super Target” was akin to a “super hemorrhoid” in my mind.

It was the usual freak show worthy of any carnival. There were, of course, those who are unable to shop without cell phone attached to face - “So he was acting all weird, ya know, but I decided to go out with him anyway, and like, ya know, it was all just kinda weird…” I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR LIFE GET OUT OF MY WAY! (the women are just as bad). While negotiating the carneys and celluloids, I wound up in the food section of the “Super” store (I think this is the part that is supposed to make it “Super”). What I saw turned my head and may have forever changed my perception of Target (“Super” or otherwise).

It was… the wine aisle.

Now, Claire (and anyone else who may read this), you know that I am fond of wine and while not an expert, I have more than a passing knowledge of the noble grape. I have my favorite wine countries, regions, grapes, blends, and even keep a few particularly good bottles around for special occasions (like a Saturday evening). But, Claire!!! They have discovered something to simplify the whole wine experience that is nothing short of genius! While they cannot take credit for discovering that wines actually come in colors now, they have this brilliant system for categorizing wines. Forget countries, forget vintage and non-vintage, forget cork, screw cap and box o’wine… Look!

That’s right, white wine now comes in “Rich” or “Crisp.” (!!!) No longer do I have to read every bottle to see which one is rich and which one is crisp, country by country, grape by grape. Think of all the time I can save. I can decide that I want a crisp white wine to go with my Tyson Chicken Tenders and just reach out and grab a bottle. I don’t even have to look at which one I picked! Finally; freedom from choice… But just when I thought I had seen the best of some Targety genius’ epiphany, there was this:

I have seen the Promised Land and it is in “Super Target.” Wine selected specifically for someone of my (and most of my neighborhood’s) persuasion. Let the GLBT community rejoice, for we have been given the gift of Fruity Wine. I knew that all of the boys in the store would soon be crowding this section at any moment, so I snapped the picture as quickly as I could. I do think, however, in all fairness, that they should have at least one small section of “Straight People’s Wine.” Bisexuals can grab a bottle of each.

It was all too much to take in, so I did not actually buy a bottle of wine segregated exclusively for my demographic. Maybe next time…

So it is with a sincere apology and a big mea culpa that I retract anything negative I have ever said about Target. It truly is “Super.”

The Morning After

It is time for me to whine (again) about working for a non-profit. Specifically, the dreaded Fundraiser (or as I affectionately call it, the Fundbeggar). …

I am not a fundraiser, nor do I aspire to be one. I can be a whore for my own personal gratification, but somehow, doing it for a living is something I find distasteful – of course, I am grateful to those who do and make my paycheck possible. I am a finance guy who would love to have no other responsibility than to crunch numbers, produce financial reports, and make overly complex spreadsheets. For me, fundraisers are like going to the dentist – you dread it before you go, it is painful while it is happening, and you still hurt the next day. We only do a couple of major ones a year, although they seem to be growing and having babies. Last night we had one of two big annual fundraisers and while it is necessary, I don’t like that part about coming home after midnight and being so sore from standing for hours, that I can barely walk today (wah, wah, wah).

Since before I actually started working there (as a volunteer), I have been responsible for the same task at each event – collect the money, be a cashier, make change, run auctions… etc. Any place that money needs to be paid or received is where you will usually find me. This time was different. I decided that I am not being an effective manager if I cannot have my staff do the work, thereby allowing me to “work” the event by talking to our donors, board members, and other guests. I almost pulled it off. I chose a simple task that allowed me to meet and greet the attendees as they arrived. The problem was that people arrived over the course of a three hour period and I was standing in one spot most of the evening. Ouch… my feet and back are not happy today. That, and getting home at 12:30am, still completely wired… oh well, it is part of what needs to be done (but I don’t have to be happy about it, wah, wah, wah).

Everybody wants to do outdoor events in Florida. Then they remember why it is not such a great idea, i.e. heat and humidity (“Gee, it is not usually this hot in October”… yes it is – another manifestation of that sun brain damage I wrote about last time). By the time I left I was so completely soaked through that I could barely peel off my clothes when I came home. Did I mention I hate heat and humidity? (wah, wah)

So here I am, the morning after, glad through all of my aches and pains that we have another one behind us. Tomorrow we count the money and see to what degree it was worth it. (wah)

AND, work on the next four events are in process… oy.

This is your brain on Florida

While I do not consider Facebook comments to be a source of any great expertise or authority, there is one factoid I had to check out. A comment was made about handheld cell phone use while driving, to be illegal nationwide. Looking around from day to day, if that is true, there are a LOT of people breaking the law down here. I knew that it was probably not true, especially here in the land of “anything goes” (except when it comes to “family values” and non-Cubans washing up on shore). So I did a little investigating. Not only is there no law prohibiting handheld cell phone use in Florida, there is actually a Preemption Law that prohibits local jurisdictions from enacting restrictions. Wow… even if someone wakes up at the local level, their hands are tied by the state. Brilliant…

But it is not just bad behavior with cell phones that we are here to discuss today.

It has long been my contention that Floridian’s brains are permanently fried from the sun. Ask anyone who lives here what it is like to try something as simple as a trip to the local supermarket. Pedestrians will mill about and just stop right in front of your moving car, or leave their cart in your path. Drivers have no sense of keeping to the right and if you are driving sensibly on the RIGHT side, you will get an earful for being in their way. Then you have the joy of negotiating your way through the parking lot. It resembles playing “Frogger” for those who remember that old video game. When you get to the entrance, once again, there is no enter and exit on the right. People will run you over with their cart rather than go to the RIGHT side. Who exits and enters on the left? Did I miss that ordinance? Once inside, when you actually get past the people who stop right in the entrance to either start chatting or just stand there having some strange epiphany that keeps them from moving forward… it gets worse. When I first moved here, I was very forgiving… for a while. “Excuse me” turned to “EXCUSE ME” which turned to physically moving the carts that are part of a mid-aisle cart-side conversation that has no discernable end in sight. I raise my hands and invoke Divine Intervention and if they do not part like the Red Sea, I move them. Makes people crazy. Makes me crazier.

Back to the cell phones. Can anyone shop without a cell phone? “Which kind of mustard do you want? There is yellow, Dijon, honey mustard… what? OK, which brand? Well, there’s Hellman’s, Kraft, Grey Poupon… what? Which one is on sale? Well, let me get out my glasses…” etc. Wow… Crispy critters, all. You have to shout “EXCUSE ME” louder at these people because they can’t hear you over the phone conversation (or the little internal epiphany they are having). Once I have performed the parting of the carts enough times to make it to checkout, there are those damn cell phones again. People will complete their entire transaction without ever exchanging a word or making eye contact with the cashier. Of course, since the cashiers are in constant conversation with each other (be it English, Spanish, Creole or some bizarre combination thereof), it doesn’t really matter. On to the exit where the same person is still trying to hear what the voices in the sky are trying to tell them and then the people entering the building on the wrong side pushing your cart aside as they squeeze past you rather than go in the ENTRANCE.

I know many nice people down here. Most of them are crazy, but they are nice. It is the bad behavior that I have a problem with. I think the ultimate experience of complete abandon of reason was on my commute to work one day. A man on a motorcycle with no helmet (no helmet law here – I consider it to be Darwinism at its finest), no shirt, wearing shorts and… wait for it… Crocs, with a cell phone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. A close second was the man I saw this week in full business suit riding a Segway down the center suicide lane. To add to this moment of Zen, it had a basket on the front – ala Pewee Herman.

All of this seems to be perfectly acceptable behavior. What is not acceptable is for me to get married – In fact, same-sex marriage and civil unions were constitutionally banned by the voters of this fine state last November. I also, should I choose to do so, cannot adopt a child. This is only true in Florida and Arkansas (aka Darwin’s waiting room). I cannot give blood, even though there is nothing wrong with my blood – I am considered a high risk, unlike the people who sleep on the sidewalk and sell their blood. Other than those trivialities, I can chat and text on my cell phone without a care, toss trash out of my car window and nobody would mind, go to a “Pain Management” clinic and get enough oxycodone and xanax to kill an elephant (where they dispense the drugs on site), be fired from my job with no reason given (it is not a “right to work” state), and have a private conversation with aliens (the kind from space) in the middle of the entrance to any public place.

As I start the day with a morning temperature of 80 degrees at 5:30am in the middle of October, I ask myself the question that I often asked before I moved here. Why does anybody live here on purpose?

I’m waiting…

(This is a rant and all subject matter, including the humor, is intended to be taken seriously and offend nearly everybody.)

Il n'y est sans joie dans Mudville

I think I need to be self employed again. Anybody got a couple of $100K they don’t need?

When I really sit back and think about work, it is not all that bad. I have a good position, I really like my boss, business is showing signs of an upturn, I have flexible hours and lots of vacation time… so why is it that I want to run out the door half the time, and the other half is measured as the space between vacations? On vacation days (like today) I just want to sit quietly in solitude and not have to interact with anyone – no matter what I have planned.

This is not like me. I am a social creature, but I feel like I am withdrawing more and more. I try to avoid most people at work, which is quite the challenge considering how small our office space is. I think it was easier (in a way) when I was just a nobody at work and did what I was told. Now that I have the ear of the CEO and the respect of the board of directors (well, most of them) I have a voice, an opinion, and an influence on how business is conducted. I said it before when I worked at HP – the closer you are to the decision making process of a business, the scarier it gets. That part is pretty scary right now because it all feels so out of control. So my opinion, voice, and influence prove to be mostly a frustration when I hear, “you’re right.” Well, I think I would rather be happy than right.

Yesterday, I was reminded of my true nature – you know, that aforementioned social creature. I actually unchained myself from my desk and met with the (a?) VP of our bank. In the process of negotiating our business line of credit (quite successfully, you’re welcome) I spoke to about four or five people, engaging in conversations from simple pleasantries to serious business matters. All polite, pleasant, and even… dare I say… fun. I was in my element. I left feeling good and then returned to work, put the chain back on, and went back to juggling balls, switching hats, and putting out fires.

“Oh, by the way, the meeting with the bank was very productive.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, not only will we renew, we can increase the limit if we want.”
“That’s great, good job.”
“It‘s what I do.”

Then I turned back to my computer and continued working while I ate lunch at my desk.

I know it is easy to glamorize the past, remembering all of the positive things and forget the drudgery that happens in the day to day. But when I had my own business, there was energy, there was satisfaction, there was… joy. I never worked so hard in my life and looking back, it took a serious set of balls to leave a successful job with a major corporation and jump into the unknown. Possibly the best choice I ever made – at least in the top three.

That is not to say that I have made or I am making bad choices since then. Now, it is more about making the only choice. It is about taking responsibility and understanding consequences. I suppose I should be glad that I had the experience and just get on with dealing with the realities of getting by in this economy and living in a place where the cost of living is disproportionate to income.

But it is also about that elusive joie de vivre… seriously, I only need about $250,000. Anyone?

Why I miss Y!360 and hate Facebook

OK, I don’t hate FB, I just find it a poor substitute for the way I want to communicate in the virtual world. What started out as a fun diversion, a way to keep in touch with the people I had lost from Y!360, and finding people from my past, has turned into a monster. As time goes by, my presence is becoming more diminished and I am receding into the invisible walls and dark recesses of a place that shines a light too brightly for my taste. The addition of coworkers and being an administrator for a Cause (at work) has turned my private life public. That is why this will not appear on FB Networked Blogs. I need my little corner of the virtual world where I can say whatever I like without having unwanted eyes on my world.

I hate to dwell on the past, but Y!360 had it all. It was centered around the blog. I found that to be the perfect way for me to connect with people. You could assess someone’s writing skills (i.e. intelligence), their interests (interesting vs. nut job), integrity (genuine vs. sleaze ball), and potential as a friend (or stalker, psychopath, sociopath, etc). It was not perfect; some of the loonies got through, but there was always the remove button and when necessary, the block option. You could also send private messages and IM (something I have burned out on and have no patience for). Facebook has these as well, but unless you already know the person, there is little substance from which to make any assessment. I can think of only one “new” person on FB who I have engaged in meaningful discourse and he was on Y!360 – we just did not connect in time before it shut down.

I know that I will continue to use Facebook, but I will keep it light and behave… damn, I hate to behave! But since it has become as much of a social marketing tool as LinkedIn and the like, I have to keep it semi-professional – the “semi” being as much of a concession as I am willing to make. I suppose that I could create another profile, but I really don’t feel like managing two pages.

So, for now, I will post this blog (and other like it) here. If nobody sees it, so be it. I want to write without having my hands tied. I wrote before Y!360 and I will continue to write. It was nice having that audience and getting the feedback, but that option is gone – until something better comes along.