For Jessi

It's strange how some songs become all the more meaningful depending on the circumstances in your life.

Happy anniversary, hun.  You have made me a better person.  I am forever at your feet.

-Adam

Sunday Confessional: Fuck It, And Fuck You Walmart

I am in a serious funk.  I don't know how to explain it at the moment.  It's currently an equal mixture of depression and rage.

I'm somewhat at a loss for words.  I don't want to come across as bitter or bitchy, but I really need to vent and just lay everything out on the line.  Oh, and Walmart almost killed my family last week.  I'm not kidding.

As some of you know, my wife recently returned to work for the first time in almost two and a half years.  Her long term disability payments were cancelled in January, because one of her doctors flaked out, and, after six months of constant prodding by the insurance company, neglected to fax any of her medical records in.  All of this was going on behind the scenes.  We knew nothing about it, until we received a letter saying her checks would no longer be coming.

We had the ability to appeal the decision, which we did.  My wife was told that if she returned to work, even during the appeal process, they would determine her able to work again, and automatically deny the appeal.  We waited for almost three months.  She was ultimately denied, because the very same doctor, again, did not send in any documentation as requested.  She basically sent a one paragraph letter saying that she was under the doctor's care for her medical condition and that the doctor felt she was unable to go back to work.  No supporting documentation.  No medical records of the previous 18 months of bi-weekly visits.   Just "Yep, I don't think she should work."

Sunday Confessional: Forty Three Cents

It has been a rough weekend.

On Friday night, Jessi was chasing after Lennon, trying to put her into time out.  Lennon went under the dinner table.  Jessi followed, and twisted her knee.

When Jess was in high school she mangled the very same knee to the point where a number of screws and a plate had to be placed in it.  She has a nice, huge battle wound to prove it.  She woke up yesterday in severe pain, with her left knee swollen as all hell.  There was a little pocket on the outside of the knee that looked like it was full of fluid.  Didn't look good.

After an hour of negotiations, I managed to convince her to go to the ER, and get things checked out.  Our friends, Lori and Zac, were nice enough to meet us at the hospital and pick up Lennon.  They took her to Jessi's parents' place.

Dating Tip Of The Day

Let's say that you have just started dating someone, and you would like to make an impression on them that they'll never forget.  What can you do to make a date memorable?

There are many restaurants that still make a big production when it comes to celebrating your birthday.  Take advantage of that.  Even if it isn't your date's birthday.

When you give the hostess your name and party size, tell her that it is your date's birthday, and that you'd really like them to do something to make it memorable.  Or, during dinner, excuse yourself to go to the restroom, find your waitress, and do the same.  Tip:  ALWAYS TELL THE RESTAURANT YOUR DATE IS YOUNGER THAN SHE ACTUALLY IS....SHE'LL APPRECIATE IT.

Later in the meal, depending on where you are dining, your server will bring a nice piece of cake for the two of you to share.  Some places, like Red Robin or Applebee's, will have their entire staff come to the table, clapping and singing as loudly as they can.

It's always best to know ahead of time how your date handles embarrassment.  If they're the type to blush and play along, that's great.  If they're the type to insist that it isn't their birthday, and demand to speak with a manager, maybe it's best to try this with someone else.

Six years ago, I tried this on the second date I had with a girl.  We went to Red Robin.  I told the waitress that my date's name was "Nadia", and that it was her birthday.  After our dinner, about 9 servers came to our table.  Our waitress shouted, "Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention please?  Today is Nadia's birthday.  Let's have everyone here wish her a happy birthday."  Then they sang her a ridiculous birthday song, and gave her a sundae.  As people left the restaurant, they stopped by our table to wish Nadia a happy birthday.  She was purple from embarrassment by the time the check came.

So, did the date leave an impression?

I asked her this morning as she was putting shoes on our daughter's feet.  She said it did.  Our first date was six years ago today.  Something went right.  I'd like to think that the birthday game had something to do with it.

Sunday Confessional: I Need A Financial Bailout

I was sitting at dinner and thought that it might be interesting to try a regular weekly post on The Twitch.  I wanted to write something that had a little depth to it.  I realized that it has been a while since I have talked about the things that have really been bothering me.  I started this site to discuss my Tourette's and PTSD, among other things, and have found it very therapeutic to let things out.

That being said, I have decided that every Sunday, I am going to have a post called 'Sunday Confessional'.  Each week, I'll write about my medical conditions, or childhood memories or what has been troubling me from the previous week.  I promise to be extremely honest and open.  I won't hold anything back, although, I'm sure on some subjects I probably should.  I know that by the time I have figured all of this out for this week, I probably won't technically post this piece until Monday AM.  But, as long as I started it on Sunday, it still theoretically counts as a Sunday post, right?

This week, I have decided to write about the one thing that keeps me up most nights...money.  Or, should I say, the lack of it.

Three years ago, when Lennon was born, my wife and I both worked as trainers for a major cell phone company.  We were living very comfortably, making roughly $125,000 a year between the two of us.  We were able to buy all of the babies furniture and clothing in advance and pay cash.  We had a very nice three bedroom apartment.  Right after she was born, we purchased a brand new Dodge Grand Caravan minivan with all the options.  With our income, it was no sweat to take care of two car payments, along with our other bills.  We were doing so well financially, that we would regularly max out our credit cards, then pay them all off in a matter of 60 days.  We would do that repeatedly.  My credit score was amazing.

In September of 2008, we moved from Albuquerque to Phoenix, to be closer to family.  Both of us were able to transfer with work into technical support positions at the same pay.  We moved into a beautiful three bedroom house with a garage.  It was the perfect house for us.  My wife cried the day we moved out, in fact. Things were good.  We were home.  We had our first Christmas as a family of three, tree and all.

By February of '09, things had taken a decidedly downward turn for me, medically.  Wait.  Let me back up a minute.

I had my first tic in August of 2006.  I had no idea what it was.  It was so violent, I thought I was having a seizure.  That first night, I didn't know what to do.  Jessi (my wife) and I were panicking.  She drew a hot bath, and I sat in the bathtub for nearly an hour...shaking.  I remember just repeatedly asking her, "What's going on?  Should we go to the hospital?" Over the next two and a half years, the tics came more frequently and got progressively worse.

OK.  Back to February 2009.  My job required me to speak on the phone for 8 hours a day.  I worked in a call center.  Not only were my tics getting so bad that I was essentially "barking" during my calls, but I was getting so loud, that my coworker's customers could hear me.  Here is a video that I shot on webcam in early June of 2009.  It should give you an idea of the types of tics that I had at that time.

Add to that my increasing mental distress.  People don't call technical support to say that "everything's OK, and you folks are doing a great job".  Something is broken and needs to be fixed.  Often, the customer on the other end of the line is pissed off.  They're pressed for time.  They don't want to go through the troubleshooting steps with you.  They just want their phone to work NOW.  The stress of the situation effected me.  Out of an 8 hour work day, I was locking myself in a restroom stall up to 6 hours, on some days.  Other days, just the sound of the customer's voice on the other end of the line, would cause me to vomit in my waste basket, often during the first call of the day.  That's if I had the courage to make it up the stairs to my desk.  On two occasions, the thought of going into work caused me to "soil myself" in the parking lot.

I went out on Short Term Disability in April of 2009.  Short Term is a great option, but like Long Term, which kicked in that October, you're paid only 60% of your base pay.  You no longer get any shit differential, incentives, bonuses or commissions like you did as a full time employee of the company.  So, my pay actually took a cut from about $4800.00, to $1983.00 a month.  40% of what I was taking home.

In June of that year, my wife went out on disability, due to complications that occurred during Lennon's delivery.  So, both of us were making about 40% of what we were accustomed to at that point.  On June 25th, I was diagnosed with Tourette's Syndrome.  The following month, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD, as a result of years of emotional and physical abuse from my parents and scores of childhood bullies.  I immediately was placed on Long Term Disability (which is set to expire this October), and was told to fill out paperwork for Social Security Disability.

Somehow, we managed to keep up most of our bills for the next year.  The first thing to get set aside were the credit cards.  Then we got behind on the van.  We had to voluntarily surrender it last June.  Interesting fact:  once a vehicle is repossessed and sold at auction, you still owe the difference between the loan amount and sale price.  Nice, huh?  We moved out of our three bedroom/2000 square ft. house, and into a 600 square ft./1 bedroom apartment to save money.  We put Lennon in the bedroom.  Jessi and I put our bed in the living room.  Very cumbersome, to say the least.

It got to the point were we had no room for our dog, Ollie.  Our little apartment was so cramped, he couldn't walk anywhere.  Our friends, Lori and Zach, offered to watch him for a while, so that he would have space to play and run in their yard.  We didn't want to see him go, but it was necessary.  Lennon really missed him.

Around the first of February, we received a letter in the mail, stating that Jessi's disability payments had been terminated.  One of her doctors had not submitted supporting documentation as requested, and they had determined that she was ready to go back to work.  She wasn't.  Suddenly, our income was cut in half.  In a matter of two and a half years, our yearly household income had gone from $125,000 to just under $24,000. It has been there ever since.

Let me tell you, a family of three cannot realistically live on $24,000 a year.  You don't make enough to make ends meet, but you make too much to qualify for most government programs.  At $1999.00 a month, my family brings in almost $400 a month too much to qualify for food stamps or Section 8 housing.  Currently, since my daughter is still 3 years old, we qualify for WIC, which gives us 2 boxes of cereal, a jar of peanut butter, a pound of cheese, one dozen eggs, 3 gallons of 1% milk and about $6.00 of fresh fruit per month.

In may, I received my acceptance letter from Social Security.  With it, we received a direct deposit for the "retro pay" for the 25 months of payments that were due to me during my official disability period.  Here's what sucks about the retro pay:  it all goes back to my Long Term Disability provider, since they have sent me a monthly check for the last two years.  I had no choice but to spend some of it.  At the time that it came in, our checking account was in the negative.  We were three months behind on our car payment, two months past due on our electric bill and a month past due on our car insurance.  I also needed to replace my broken cell phone.

Every so often we get lucky.  This month is a different story.

In July, I got a letter from the IRS saying that since I was now receiving Social Security benefits, they could levy my disability check to pay for back taxes owed in 2004, when I worked for my parent's business.  I called them to explain our financial situation.  They agreed to put me in an "indefinite noncollectable status".  The status wasn't approved until three days before my direct deposit went through, not enough time for the levy to be stopped for August.

Between the automatic payments that came out of our checking account, the negative balance at the time the deposit came in and the IRS levy, our checking account balance after our monthly deposit came through was $28.00.  It's the 29th of the month, and I have no idea where our rent or car payment or electric bill are going to come from.

Being poor sucks.  You never get used to it.  You can only adjust, and it's one major fucking adjustment.

Lennon is too young to know any better, which is good.  I grew up not having anything, and knowing it was because we didn't have any money.  We still do what we can to spoil the hell out of her.

In more positive news, we got Ollie back, or as Lennon calls him "Stinky Mr. Pooperton"

Jessi is supposed to start a new job a week from today.  There have been a number of delays (She was originally scheduled to start three weeks ago), so hopefully this will work out.  I go into surgery on the 19th.  I will be lying in bed, recovering, until approximately late January.  As such, Lennon will have to be in preschool during the day.  That's another $750-800 a month on top of the bills we already can't pay.  I'm sure once Jessi goes to work, we'll be able to get back on our feet.  It will just take a couple of months.  Hopefully everyone can wait that long.

Where's my stimulus package?

Ran Into An Ex-Girlfriend Yesterday...

Or, at least I thought she was my girlfriend when I was in high school.  Her name was Teresa.  We worked together at Bank of America during my senior year.  She was also a Jehovah's Witness.

I thought I was head over heels in love with this girl.  I would give her rides home, sometimes take her mom to run an errand.  I even would spend my weekends at her congregation's conventions throughout the year, just to bump into her.  Looking back, I was in the "friends zone" from the moment I met her.  Who could blame her, really.  I was socially awkward.  I weighed at least 40 lbs. more then than I do now.  I had horrific acne.  For Christ's sake, I had a perm.  I looked like Ryan Reynolds in 'Just Friends'...

This IS Ryan Reynolds.  This is not a picture of me at 17.

When I found out she was dating another guy, I was devastated.  I was too naive to realize in the months before that there was absolutely nothing going on between us.  The last time I communicated with her, I sent her two dozen roses, and cut the flowers off of the stems.  I know.  It was a dick move.  A little crazy at the time, too.  I may have also sent her a bunch of commemorative plates in the mail.  LOL.  I went to the library's magazine section and clipped out every commemorative plate and music club offer they had.  I then put her name and address on the forms and mailed them all.  Goddammit, I was an asshole.

My daughter and I were walking through the mall yesterday, and stopped by the Disney Store.  We're looking at Rapunzel dolls, and an employee walks up to me to offer me a bag.  It was Teresa.  I asked her, "I know this sounds weird, but is your name Teresa?"

I told her who I was, and she didn't recognize my name.  Must have made one hell of an impression, huh?  She asked me how I knew her, and I told her that we worked together as teenagers.  Asked her how her mom and sister were doing.  She realized by the fact that I asked about her family that I used to be a Witness.  She never introduced any of her "worldly" friends to her JW family.

I introduced her to my little girl and told her a little about what's been happening in my life lately.  She has three kids now.  They were sitting on the bench in the mall outside the store.  She had to step away to help another customer.

I have no idea whether she's still a Witness or not.  She asked me if I was still practicing.  I laughed.  Told her that I haven't been in since I was 21.  Also told her that I have an ex-JW blog and that my wife and I were activists for the LGBT community.  Needless to say, she didn't ask any more questions at that point.  Thankfully, I don't even "look" like a Witness anymore.  I've grown a beard.  I have numerous visable tattoos (one of which takes up my left forearm), and my ears are stretched.  I'm a little surprised that she asked.

I've thought a lot about Teresa in the last 24 hours.  I've been wondering "what if".  What if things worked out between us?  What if those were my kids sitting outside of that store?  What if I had tried harder to stay in the church?

Realistically, if any of those scenarios found some way to have worked themselves out, my life would have been miserable.  She wouldn't have understood, or accepted, my sexual orientation.  In fact, I have changed so much about myself in the last ten years, that she wouldn't have even been a remotely compatible match for me.  There is no doubt that we would have broken up.  I would have even suffered through the trauma of a divorce to get out of the Witness organization, if it was necessary to do so.  

It makes me realize how considerably lucky I am.  I have a beautiful, intelligent wife that accepts me for who I am....no reservations.  She made me able to truly be myself for the first time in my life.  I'm a stronger person because of her.  I'm not cowering in the corner any longer.  I'm a better person because of her.  

I used to pray that I would do anything if God just made Teresa mine.  Thankfully, those prayers fell on deaf ears.

Happy Birthday To My Beautiful Wife

I love you so much.

My Baby Is Turning Three Today

I can't believe that it has been three years already.  When my wife was pregnant, I was so worried that I wasn't spending enough "tummy time" with my daughter to be.  I had the best of intentions as an expectant father.  I pictured myself putting headphones against my wife's belly every evening and playing classical music each night before bedtime.  Or, playing my favorite Beatles songs and Bob Marley tunes so that she would be humming 'Strawberry Fields Forever' or 'Three Little Birds' shortly after birth.  Sadly, life got in the way, and boy did I ever feel guilty about it.

Up until the birth, I kept asking my wife, "What if she doesn't recognize my voice".  "What if she doesn't know who I am?"  I'm sure I was a huge pain in the ass toward the end.

Lennon was born at 4:35AM on May 11th, 2008.  My wife had some complications with the birth, so she wasn't able to spend much time with my daughter right after the delivery.  I accompanied one of the nurses to the NICU with my daughter to have her weighed and measured.  All the way down the elevator and down the hall, my little girl was quiet.  When we entered the NICU, she started crying.

I leaned down next to her and whispered, "It's OK honey.  Daddy's here."  She immediately stopped crying and turned to look for me.  She recognized my voice!  It was the greatest moment of my life.

The next morning when my wife got the OK from her doctor to go downstairs to visit the NICU for the first time, we were scrubbing in.  Before you could enter the room, there was a 10 minute scrub in procedure that you had to follow every time, as if you were about to begin an open heart surgery.  In the NICU, there were 24 babies at the time, and it seemed like all of them were crying.  There was one cry in particular that stood out.  "You hear that baby?" I said, "That one's Lennon."  Sure enough, out of all of the infants in the room, I picked out my daughter's cry.  It's not that I had remembered it, but that I had instinctually recognized my child out of the group.

Years later, I still feel like the daddy lion sometimes, although, more often than not, it seems like I'm grabbing my cub by the scruff of the neck more than anything else.

Today, we spent the day running around town, having the "Happy 3rd Birthdayorama!"  We went to her favorite restaurant for lunch.  Saw three quarters of 'Rango' at the dollar theater. (That's right, I said three quarters.)  Went to Nana and Buppa's to visit.  I must say though, when she doesn't have her nap, she can get like an abusive drunk midget carny at certain times of the day.  She'll test your patience, and your ability to drive while having shoes thrown at the back of your head.

A Fascinating Conversation With A Hospital Chaplain

As many of you know, I was in the hospital again last week.  It was my third hospital stay since the second week of March. As has been my experience, on the first morning of my stay, the hospital chaplain usually visits.  In the past, I've told them that I'm atheist, and they tell me to have a nice day and walk out of the room.  This time was remarkably different.

It was 9:30AM Monday morning.  Roughly 13 hours earlier, I had seen President Obama announce that Osama bin Laden had been killed in Pakistan.  I fell asleep the night before watching New Yorkers sing the National Anthem at Ground Zero from my hospital bed.  Monday, May 2, 2011, was the dawn of a new era for the United States and for the world.

The chaplain was a dead give away.  The nurses all wore soft soled shoes.  None of the patients on my floor walked past my room (I was at the end of the floor).  And, all of the visitors either wore tennis shoes or sandals.  I could hear his wooden heals on approach 45 seconds before he got to my room.  He walked at a very calm and even pace.

He entered my room and sheepishly peeked his head around the curtain to see if I was awake.  When seeing that I had already eaten my breakfast, he walked up to my bed and introduced himself.  His name was Ahmed.  He explained that he was Muslim.  Upon seeing my beard (albeit unruly and unkempt at the time), he asked if I was Islam as well.  Honestly, I probably could have entered a bin Laden lookalike contest at the time.  I told him I wasn't.  I explained to him that I was an atheist.

I could only imagine the type of conversations he was having that morning, with bin Laden being shot the night before.  Immediately, without even hesitating, he started defending his religion.  You know, he started going into the "Islam is a peaceful religion" bit.  I had to interrupt him.

I explained that I knew that the Prophet Muhammad was a messenger of peace, and that Allah is a peaceful god.  I told him that for centuries, people have killed others in the name of their prophet or their god.  Sometimes that prophet's name is Jesus.  Sometimes, that's their god's name.  Sometimes, they don't even know the name of their god.

"There is fanaticism in every religion", I said.I explained to him that I used to be an "ordained minister" (what a joke).  I told him that the reason why I am atheist now, is because I saw the fanaticism in the church I was in as well.  Religion attracts crazy people.  There are crazy Muslims, just as there are crazy Baptists, Pentecostals, Methodists, Lutherans, Catholics, and Jehovah's Witnesses.

Then I dropped a bomb on him.  I told him I owned a Koran.  I purchased one last September 11th on International Buy A Koran Day.  He was surprised that 1.) a "non believer" would own a Koran, and 2.) that there was actually an international show of support for the Muslim community in which people would go to a bookstore and purchase one of their holy books.  He was almost moved to tears.  He asked me if I had read any of it, which I said that I did.  The copy that I have is in both Arabic and English.

He asked me if I was married.  I told him I was.  He asked if I had a "good wife".  I told him that I had a wonderful, supportive wife.  I said that with the health problems that I have been dealing with recently, if it weren't for her taking care of my daughter and myself in and out of the hospital, I don't know how I would have made it.   Ahmed extolled the virtues of a good wife, though the way he did so was somewhat antiquated.

"A good wife will take care of your children.  She won't spend all of your money.  She'll make sure you have a clean house to come to when you get home from work."

I found it to be a bit laughable, but I got his point.  I have a wonderful partner.  I have spent most of the last six weeks on my back.  Not only has my wife taken care of our two year old single handedly, but she has also waited on me hand and foot.  She has cooked my meals, refilled my drinks, and brought me my medication.  She has picked up my share of the household chores. She has also driven me to and from appointments for the last few weeks.  I really am lucky to have her.

My conversation with Ahmed lasted the better part of an hour.  It was the most pleasant conversation I have had regarding religion in recent memory.  Considering what had happened the previous day, I'm sure Ahmed had thought the conversation was going to go into a different direction.  It's a rare and wonderful thing when two individuals with such varying concepts on religion can come together, have an educated conversation about their beliefs, walk away feeling respected, and have an untold respect for the other in return.

The First Mother's Day I Celebrated

Jehovah's Witnesses do not celebrate Mother's Day.  Don't ask me why.  Some believe it has it's roots in "Pagan" rituals.  Others believe that setting aside a day to thank your mother for everything that she does takes away time that should be for thanking god, thus making it "idol worship".  I know.  Pretty ridiculous, right?  So, my entire life, I have never celebrated Mother's Day.  I've never given my mom a card or flowers.  I have never taken her out for breakfast on the second Sunday in May.

All of that changed for me three years ago.  As 12:00AM Mother's Day, 2008, approached, my wife was approximately a little over 50 hours into labor.  We had checked into the Women's Hospital in Albuquerque just before 10:00PM on Thursday night, and, between the two of us, had gotten maybe an hour of sleep between then and now.  We had seen probably 20 episodes of 'The X-Files' by then.  We really weren't fans of the show, but overnight, that, and 'The Chronicles of Riddick' were the only two things that were on TV.

At about 1:00AM, my wife's heartbeat started to flutter.  They sent in a tech to compete an EKG.  At this point, she already had probably a dozen wires and tubes hooked up to her.  The tech had a difficult time trying to figure out how to get around everything and get to her chest with her hospital gown tied up the way that it was.  He was a little inexperienced, to say the least.  Finally, he realized that the arm holes unsnapped and pulled away, so he unsnapped the three buttons on the arm and pulled the right side of the gown away to expose my wife's cleavage.

"Niiiiiiice."

He then demonstrated how the word "dude" can be a stand alone sentence, yet mean a number of different things.

"Dude!" (You misunderstood me.  I was not saying, "Nice cleavage."  I was saying, "It's nice that I found a way to access the area for the procedure.")

"Dude." (I am so sorry, sir.  I was not making a pass at your wife.)

"Dude." (Please do not kick my ass.)

"Dude?" (Are we cool?)

Three hours later, at 4:35AM, our daughter was born.  It was the best Mother's Day present my wife could have.  It sure beat any Hallmark card or any bouquet of flowers I could have given her.  In case you were wondering, I still gave her a card.  

My wife had a rough delivery.  I couldn't have been more proud of her.  She was stronger than I ever would have imagined.  Since her water broke almost 48 hours earlier, she had developed an infection.  Our daughter was also born with pneumonia.  My little girl was in the NICU for 8 days, while my wife was hospitalized for 3 days following the delivery.  Unfortunately, she was not able to see Lennon until the following day.  The nurses in the NICU took Lennon's picture and had it framed as a Mother's Day present for my wife.  Looking back at the photo today, it's hard to imagine that our little girl is the same one that was hooked up to the monitors under the blue lamps.  That today, she's walking up to everyone in the house, hugging them, and saying, "Happy Mother's Day".  Wow.  Has it been three years already?

Mother's Day will always hold a special place in my heart.  Oddly enough, for the rest of my life, when I think of that day, my own mother will likely be the last woman I think of...if I even think of her at all.

A Tale Of True Love

It's a remarkable thing to know the exact moment that your life changed.  To be able to tell someone the day, hour, and minute that light shined down onto your path and mapped out the rest of your life.  For me, that moment was September 21, 2005, at 8:29pm.

At the time, I had just turned 30.  I was working as a dispatcher and office manager for the family trucking company, and I was hating every minute of it.  My previous relationships, if you wanted to call them that, were utter failures.  I would go on maybe a couple of dates with a girl and realize there was zero compatibility between us.  Had a number of one night stands.  Nothing meaningful.  I hadn't been in a boyfriend/girlfriend type of scenario since that previous February, and that ended badly.  At the time, I was ready to just give up.

On the evening of September 21st, I received the following message in my Myspace inbox:

"Hey happened to stumble across your profile......great song clip!"

Her name was Jessi.  She was 22.  I looked at her profile.  She had a couple of country music song clips (ugh), but she was pretty cute:

(She's the one on the right)

So I responded,

"Thanks....was sorta fitting at the time....still is...lol.  I really liked your page....except for the country music part...but you made up for it with Nelly......Like your sense of humor.....you're a bit twisted....NICE."

 She continued,

"Hahaha yeah that definetely sums me up ... twisted...And i will agree not ALL country music is good but there are exceptions! if ya wanna chat sometime i'm on yahoo or msn as ixxxxxx_xxxxxs"

I had recently gone to see the documentary 'March of the Penguins', and wrote a review of it on my Myspace blog.  I also wrote a small blog about my memories of 9/11/2001.  She sent me another message a couple of minutes later,

"WOW just got done reading your blogs.....happened to stumble across those too...the 9/11 one made me cry....don't feel bad but i seriously bawled...it took me back to what exactly i was doing when i heard...at the time i was working for MCI and it was located literally right next door to the air force base (in iowa) so i couldn't go to work not that i could have anyways....its amazing how much can change in such a short time.... also very jealous you have seen march of the penguins....i LOVE penguins and haven't had time to see it....guess i will have to catch it on pay per view or something...thats all!"

Our email conversation continued the next morning.  I sent her a message saying,

"that penguin movie was amazing....im a big fan of documentaries.....would like to chat with you later....you seem pretty cool....cute too...lol"

From that point on, we either sent each other instant messages or talked to each other on the phone.  That was on September 22nd.  She invited me to come over to her place for spaghetti on Tuesday, September 27th.  I knocked on her door.  When it opened, I was frozen.  I looked in her eyes, and said "Oh my God, you're beautiful."  Then I kissed her.

I can honestly say now that the spaghetti really wasn't that good.  I think she put sugar in the sauce.  Regardless, I was polite and ate it.  Later that evening, as I was laying on the couch in her living room, she gave me a "cow kiss" across the entire right side of my face.  I almost vomited, but it attracted me to her.  I always wanted someone that was a lover and a buddy.  Someone that would try to give me a "wet Willy" when I was half asleep.  To me, that was a sign of someone that was interested in you, in a sick and twisted sort of way.  It was the best first date I ever had.

Later that week, we were on our second date, and I was realizing that I was falling in love with this woman.  Normally, that would be scaring the shit out of me, but something deep down inside of me knew that this was the woman I was going to spend the rest of my life with.  I had already been engaged in the past, and she was the first person I felt safe with.  I could tell her things, things that I was scared to admit to myself. I tried to scare her away.  I told her all of my secrets, and she only got closer to me.

In January of 2006, I moved in with her.  It was a huge adjustment to make.  I had never lived with a partner before.  Nine months later, the two of us were walking through the mall.  A jewelry store was having a sapphire sale.  Sapphires are her favorite stone.  We went in, just to look at the ring settings.  As she was looking at the rings, I called her mom on my cell phone.  I told her mom that I was going to propose to her daughter right now, but first I need her permission.  Her mom was sobbing, but I think she said "yes".  I got down on one knee in the middle of the store.  I told her that I have loved her from the moment I saw her.  I told her that I couldn't imagine my life without her in it, and I asked her to marry me.  She said "yes" too.  I told her to pick any ring she wanted.

As the weeks and months went by, we discovered ourselves.  We realized that all of these years we had been living our lives to make the people around us happy.  Speaking for myself, there were things that I didn't know about myself at 30 that I should have figured out at 15.  It was almost as if we grew up together.  We found each other and found ourselves.  We started planning our wedding.  We decided on Las Vegas, February 29, 2008, Mandalay Bay Hotel.

We had everything picked out.  It was going to be a Beatles themed wedding.  The processional was going to be Regina Spektor's cover of John Lennon's 'Real Love' and we were going to walk down the aisle as husband and wife to the Beatles' 'All You Need Is Love'.  We had hotel reservations and restaurant reservations.  Everything was figured out.  Then at about 2am on a night in early October 2007, Jessi rolled over and softly said, "I think I'm late".

"Late to what?"

"You know, late."

"Like?"

"Yeah."

A half hour later, I'm at a 24 hour Walgreens buying pregnancy tests and a two liter bottle of Coke.  At 4am, we realized we were having a baby.  We also realized that meant on February 29, 2008, my wife would be nearly 7 months pregnant.  "If I'm going to Vegas, I'm drinking."  That's a quote from her.  Not me.  So, on November 23rd, 2007, I married my lover, my buddy, my best friend, and the mother of what would soon be my daughter.  It was a simple ceremony.  We had it in the kitchen of our apartment.  It was just us and three close friends.  Afterward, we had sparkling grape juice and Blue Bunny chocolate chip ice cream.  So, on every November 23rd of every year, we celebrate by having sparkling grape juice and Blue Bunny chocolate chip ice cream.

It has been about five and a half years since that first message.  1,973 days.  And it has been the best 1,973 days of my life.  We have the type of relationship that movies are written about.  Besides the occasional appointment or trip to the grocery store, we have not been more than 30 feet away from each other for the last five years.  Even when I was working, we worked in the same office, for the same department, within 25 feet of each other.  We had the same hours and had the same lunch schedule.  We were together 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and we wouldn't have had it any other way.

We have never had a fight.  We have had maybe two little arguments in the last five years.  We very rarely disagree.  If there is one perfect person out there in the world for you, I have found that person.  I am never letting her go.  Only death will separate us, and even after I die, I have promised to haunt her.  It is the only way she would be able to go on without me.

Happy Valentine's Day Jessi.  You are my love, my strength, my rock, and in so many ways, my better half.  I love you.

Soundtrack of My Life 11/23/2009 - Ben Harper 'Waiting On An Angel'

There are a number of moments that come to mind when I think about the moment I knew that I was falling in love with my wife. One moment stands out for me as the moment I knew that I loved her.

She had just recently lost her grandfather. We were listening to music on my computer at my apartment and I played this song. We both cried and held each other for what seemed like an hour. I still get teary eyed when I think about that night. That's when I knew I had fallen for her....that we had a future together. Sure enough, four years later, here we are, celebrating our two year wedding anniversary.

Happy Anniversary

I know I haven't been posting lately, but regardless of how I've been feeling, I couldn't let today go by without having something to show for it.

It was two years ago today that my wife and I got married. On the day after Thanksgiving, in the kitchen of our Albuquerque apartment, we made a life long commitment to each other. Our "wedding reception" afterward was a half gallon of Blue Bunny chocolate chip ice cream and a bottle of sparkling cider we were able to find in the fridge.

It has been a crazy two years that has followed. I sometimes feel guilty for dragging my wife into the medical issues I've been having these last 9 months or so. I know that it has taken a toll on her. Honestly though, I couldn't have made it through on a day by day basis without her. She is the best thing that has ever....and I mean EVER happened to me. Being with her is like winning the lottery every single day. We've been together for a little more than four years now, and I still look at her and can't believe how lucky I am to be her husband. She's my best friend.

So, later tonight, and for the first time with our daughter, we will continue our tradition of having Blue Bunny chocolate chip ice cream and sparkling cider.....something tells me the little one will like it.

Happy Anniversary, hun. I love you.

I'm At A Loss

Last week was pretty damn rough. Tuesday, we thought the baby had a UTI, and took her into the doctor. Turns out, she only had a yeast infection, but a nasty one. Wednesday, my wife had outpatient surgery at her dermatologist's office to remove two cysts on her scalp she's had since childhood. She was in so much pain afterward she almost passed out and was practically vomiting. Within 48 hours she had swelling on her forehead that was the size of an orange. The same day, my daughter developed what appeared to be a cold. It looked like it was getting better and now it's coming back with a cough. We're hoping it's not H1N1.

We're all sitting around in the living room yesterday, trying to do our best to recover from the previous week, when my wife gets a phone call. It's my mother in law. She's freaking out. Something had happened to Sandy, her best friend.

We had all met Sandy at the same time, at a farmer's market in Chandler. My wife and mother in law were tending a booth when she came up and had a couple of questions about what she needed to do to get a space of her own. My mother in law instantly connected with her. They became friends almost instantly. Over the course of the coming year, they practically became sisters. They either saw each other every day or talked on the phone. She got mom the job she has now. In fact, the only reason my wife is a Scentsy rep because she knew she would be working under her.

She was a few years older than mom, but you couldn't really tell. Blond hair. Glasses. Running her ass off every time I saw her, but always trying to smile. And the way that she interacted with my daughter, she gave off that "cool grandma" vibe. Just an all around good person.

She was in Casa Grande yesterday, doing a farmer's market in a Safeway parking lot. She had been doing this particular one for about a month now. She called mom at 2:45 yesterday afternoon to say hi and see how things were going. Sandy had just walked away from her booth and was going inside the Safeway to use the restroom. When she got inside the store, she said "I'll call you right back.", and hung up the phone. The phone rang back a couple of minutes later. It was coming from Sandy's cell. This time when mom answered, a man was on the other end. He said that a lady had passed out inside the store and they didn't know who she was. Mom told them where to find Marv, her husband outside. Sandy had had a heart attack.

After a few minutes, my wife and I started to think, regardless of how major or how minor the heart attack may be, there was no way she was going to be in any condition to pack her stuff up and bring it home. So we started making plans to go to Casa Grande to go get it. She usually packed everything up in her Mini Cooper, so getting it all in one car shouldn't be a problem. Between myself, my wife, mom and dad, we arranged to have me stay home with the baby, and mom and the wife head the 60 miles South to Casa Grande to pack up the stuff and bring it home. Mom and dad were at the sister in law's house at the time and we were all going to me at mom and dad's house.

We left our house, and were about a mile away when we got a call from dad. Just seeing that it was from dad, we knew the news was the worst. Mom was hysterical in the background. They had just received the phone call that Sandy had passed away. She had a massive heart attack. She apparently had died at the scene. We were at a loss. I felt so sorry for mom. Sandy was her only friend here in Arizona. I especially felt sorry for Marv. Although I had never met him, I was sort of seeing the situation through his eyes. Sandy had just quit smoking the month before. She was a month away from her 65th birthday. He was laid off from his job 2 weeks ago, and they were planning on traveling the country together in their RV.

We had no idea the farmer's market was in the Safeway parking lot. The way that Sandy had described it in the past, it was across the street from Safeway, in a park or another parking lot. We knew she had Scentsy products with her, and she usually brought hundreds of handmade products to sell. Dad had said that they were too shaken up to go to Casa Grande, and I don't blame them. I started thinking though. What if all of her stuff gets stolen? Knowing how those Scentsy reps are, they've probably already looted the booth. They're like rabid hyena soccer moms. For Marv though, what if everything Sandy had made is there in that booth? I'm sure he would want something there to remember her by. We had to go to Casa Grande.

It was a nice drive. Even though the baby was sick, you could tell she enjoyed getting out of the house. We eventually found the Safeway there but no lot across the street. There was a trailer outside the Safeway selling Cokes and hotdogs. We asked them if they knew where the farmer's market was, and they said it was there in the parking lot. We asked if they knew about the lady that had the heart attack, and they said that her things were packed up and placed in the manager's office. Sandy had packed up so much stuff, that neither our car, or mom and dad's pickup, could carry it alone. We would have to come back with two vehicles.

The manager came out to talk to us in the parking lot. He was a body builder type wearing a Cardinals jersey. He was continuously choked up. He was unbelievably respectful and courteous. I really think that this was the first time that something like this had happened on his watch and he was freaking out a bit. He kept saying how hard they tried to revive her and how they tried CPR. We were almost comforting him as much as he was trying to comfort us. He explained that as soon as everything had happened, he sent employees out to the parking lot to pack up her things, take down her canopy, and bring it into the store. It is currently locked inside the manager's office. One of the assistant managers was even talking about selling hotdogs and Cokes at the store to raise money for the family. I was really impressed.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to take anything back with us, but we were able to verify that it was safe. We stopped to grab a pizza for mom, dad and Marv on the way home and met them at Sandy and Marv's house. Marv was so ill he refused to even accept the pizza at first. We explained that eventually he would get hungry, and if he wouldn't eat it, family and friends would be there that would. Mom, dad and the rest of us went to their place to try to relax for a few.

It was a very rough day, and at the end of it, when saying goodbye to mom, I hugged her and told her I loved her. She teared up a bit and told me she loved me. Although I have always known it, it was the first time I had actually heard those words from my mother in law. It was nice to have that validation. It made me smile. It made me cry.

Yesterday taught me two things. One, I'm getting older. As you get older, two things happen: More people that you know die, and those people are made up from the inner rings of those you care about as you get older. Let me explain. Everyone that you will ever know and that everyone you ever care about will ever know fits on the rings of a tree. At age 7, your best friend's great great aunt is on a much further ring out on level of importance, as say your best friend's mom at age 35. Make sense? The older you get, the more death you see, and the more significant those deaths are. As a child you may have a grandparent or two. As you're approaching your mid-thirties and early forties, your grandparents are usually already gone, your aunts and uncles start passing away, and you're preparing yourself for what to do when your folks die. I think that's what made 'Benjamin Button' such a good movie. He was getting younger, but he still had to deal with that horrible part of being an adult.

Secondly, I realized yesterday that my wife and I are good people. Neither of us had ever met Marv, and it occurred to me halfway to Casa Grande yesterday that I was doing this for him, and not for Sandy. I put myself in his shoes, as difficult as that was. Even when it comes to people who claim to be Christians, most of them do not live by the "golden rule". I try to treat others how I would like to be treated. I know that eventually doing good things will bring positive things in life. Call it Karma, whatever. I just know that, especially now, I have to try to set a good example for my daughter. Sure, I didn't HAVE to drive 120 miles round trip, and I didn't HAVE to buy pizza for her family, but it was a nice gesture, and it was was was necessary for the situation yesterday. And I'm proud of myself and my wife for taking that road trip.

Sandy, we will miss you. You treated my wife and I with kindness, and our daughter with love. Thank you.

Soundtrack Of My Life 10/20/2009

Ray Lamontagne. 'Trouble'. Enough Said.

Autobiographical Songs Part V

It seems like from day one of our relationship, my wife and I have been on our own. We have had no one else to count on. Shortly after we met, I lost my family. Hers were in Iowa. We had a number of acquaintances, but no real "friends" to count on, for the most part. Just the two of us, for the better part of four years.

Somehow, we made it. Everyday, our love for each other stronger than the last. We have always been told that we have the perfect relationship...the type of marriage you only see in the movies. We've been together for a little over four years and have never had a fight. We very rarely, if ever, raise our voices around each other. She's into video games. I like to help her pick out clothes. It just works.

The song I am writing about tonight is "our song", 'Chasing Cars' by Snow Patrol. Had we had a "traditional" wedding, this would have been the first dance at our reception. Instead of marrying in Vegas as planned, we got married in our kitchen, the night after Thanksgiving, by our friend Lindsay, with two witnesses in attendance to sign the license. Instead of champagne and wedding cake, we each had a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream.

The song is very simple in it's writing style. It's not overly flowery or wordy. That, I think, is what I like about it. It gets to the point. The first verse describes us perfectly:

"We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone"

We have been through more drama in the four short years that we have been together, than some couples see in a lifetime. Six, count them, six moves, two of which were long distance. Not to mention the loss of my family. The stress associated with the loss of a job and the subsequent unemployment. Pregnancy and the birth of our baby girl. Then my medical/mental issues came to the forefront. We're now dealing with the consequences associated with that. A couple of months ago we lost the family van. Last Friday, I received the last paycheck from my employer that I'll ever get. My career is over. I am expecting a decision from MetLife within the next 24-48 hours with a decision as to whether my long term disability has been approved. Since I can no longer care for myself, we're discussing the possibility of having my wife quit her job to become a caretaker of sorts. So, her career is so to end as well.

My favorite line from the song is one that has been edited out of the U.S. single and radio versions heard here in the States. It says, "I need your grace to remind me to find my own". Just being in my wife's presence makes me a better person. She makes me want to be a better human being. I am who I am today because of her. I wouldn't care about anyone in this world other than myself if it wasn't for trying to copy her selfless attitude, and I don't thank her enough for that. She is the greatest "human" I have ever personally had the pleasure of knowing, and I'm so happy I have her here to instill her values and morals in my daughter and keep me in check as well. I love you Jessi...I knew it from the moment I first saw your eyes.

It took me forever to find the U.K. version of the song. It includes the extra line. Enjoy.



Here is a pic of the two of us from a much less stressful time. It was taken in a photo booth at the 2007 New Mexico State Fair just weeks before we were married. We were a little more punk then and a little less crazy. The pic is currently on our refrigerator. I still smile every time I get the milk.

Soundtrack of My Life 10/17/09 Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat 'Lucky'

From the album 'We Sing, We Dance, We Steal Things' by Jason Mraz, 'Lucky' was an instant favorite of ours from the moment we first heard it. So far, we've been very lucky in our relationship. We're buddies. We're best of friends, and we couldn't ask for more.

The song just became available yesterday to sing on 'Lips', a karaoke video game that we own. We have been trying for half of the morning to get the harmonies down, and we're doing pretty well. At the moment, our top score is ranked 4th in the world. We're nerds like that. The singing is good therapy for me, so I spend a lot of time playing 'Lips' and 'RockBand'. For those of you that haven't heard the song before, here is the video:

Happy Birthday, John.

Had John Lennon still been alive, he would have turned 69 today. On the day when the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize is announced, I think it is a great time to take a moment to think about what another man could have accomplished had his life not been cut short.

To steal a line from Elvis Costello, all Lennon ever preached was "Peace, Love and Understanding".

I grew up listening to the Beatles. My parents weren't "die hard fans", but "admirers and listeners". My mother saw them perform on Ed Sullivan. She had a couple of their 45s and the 'Rubber Soul' LP, which she later passed on to me. By the time I came along, my mom had moved on to Motown, and my dad to country music. Most of what I knew of the Beatles I discovered myself in my early teens.

I had picked up their greatest hits CDs; the red and blue albums. I realized very quickly that I was a fan of the blue album and not the red. It was very easy to tell when they were starting to find themselves; as men, as musicians, spiritually and psychedelically. It was also very easy to tell which songs were written by Paul and which ones were written by John. Paul was simple....'Blackbird', 'Yesterday', 'Hey Jude'. John was fuckin' out there.....'I Am The Walrus', 'Strawberry Fields Forever', 'A Day In The Life'. It took 10 seconds of a song to tell if Paul wrote it or John wrote it.

By the time I met my wife, I was such a Beatles fan, simply because of John Lennon, their music made up a large part of what I had listened to. Luckily for me, I met someone that loved his music just as much as I did. We enjoyed his music so much that we decided that, when the time came for us to get married, we would walk down the aisle to Lennon's songs.

And when it came to love, John could blow the doors off of a love song. During his solo career, he wrote and recorded a demo song for his wife, Yoko, called 'Real Love'. The demo was eventually released, but didn't get any airplay. It was actually featured in the movie 'Funny People', with Adam Sandler singing it, and it sounded quite nice.

Two years ago, a benefit CD was released called 'Instant Karma'. It was a CD of all John Lennon covers by various artists to help relief efforts in Darfur. On that CD, Regina Spektor, covered the song Real Love. You would think John personally wrote the song for her 35 years ago to sing it. Take a listen:



We were driving in our car the first time we heard it. We had to pull over because were crying so hard. We couldn't stop smiling and kissing each other. We knew it was the song that Jessi was meant to walk down the aisle to.

But what for after the kissing of the bride? We both felt that John had written, in our opinion, what I think is probably the most over the top, celebratory, philosophical songs of all time with the most simple message of any song in the 20th century: 'All You Need Is Love'. With the horns coming in at the beginning of the song, announcing to the world for the first time in history "Mr. and Mrs. Adam Hall". We felt it was the perfect match. I love this video. It amazes me that this song...the horns...the strings...the band...the extras...all were on one take, one track. Music isn't recorded like that anymore. It never will be again.



It was the perfect wedding plan. Immediately following the ceremony, we were going to see Cirque du Soleil's Beatle's 'Love'. One hell of a night planned. Then, we found out a little one was on the way. Jessi would have been 7 months pregnant at the time of the wedding. Early March, low 90s, Las Vegas...not a good idea. Within two weeks of finding out about the baby, we had already decided on a name: Lennon. It would been Lennon Ruth for a girl, or Lennon Matthew for a boy. Not because of his music, but what he stood for.

He was the embodiment of peace. 'Give peace a chance'. 'All you need is love'. He even released a Christmas song that was more about ending the Vietnam War than it was about Christmas. He used his celebrity to get media attention. He used his talent to get people thinking.

The day I realized what we were going to name our child I got a tattoo. It is a replica of the Lennon memorial in Central Park in New York City.



So John, not only today, October 9th, but because of my beautiful daughter, I think of you and thank you for showing me that I'm a "dreamer" too.

Soundtrack of My Life 10/07/09 - The Fray 'Never Say Never'

Things have been very tense lately for Jessi and I. There have been many days that my PTSD has gotten so bad that I'm unable to take care of myself. I can't go into the kitchen to feed myself unless I have things planned out far in advance, (what I want to eat, how I'm going to make it, etc.) If I am not up to the minute on my medication, something so much as hearing a spoon hit a plate in the sink can make me go into a major freak out. I start screaming, stuttering, and ticking for the next 10 minutes.

I tick at the grocery store. I tick at Walmart. My daughter screamed a couple of days ago at the store and I screamed and crouched and held onto the store shelf. I tick violently at restaurants. Needless to say, this has taken a huge toll on the two of us, both mentally and emotionally.

With the exception of seven days, I have been on short term disability since February 14th. It started out as stomach problems initially. I was losing control of my bowels at work....shitting myself in the parking lot on my way in for the day. After a colonoscopy and an endoscope, my gastro doctor found nothing wrong. He thought it may be an allergy, but couldn't tell me what I was allergic to. Later, we realized it was the first signs of PTSD showing themselves. I came back the last week or so in March, and was having panic attacks so bad that I was hiding in the bathroom for an hour at a time, and then going home sick.

I went out again on short term on April 7th. Since then, I was diagnosed with Tourette's on June 25th, and PTSD on July 30th. I have been on 60% pay because of the disability status since April, so needless to say, things have been tight. We've really had to cut corners and decide on what is important. Needs vs. wants type of situations.

That coupled with the fact that I feel like I'm losing my ability to take care of myself, take care of my family, and take care of my daughter, have made the last few weeks very hard. There are times I can tell that my wife is past her breaking point. She's the anchor in the house, the foundation. Without her, I don't know how we would have made it this far.

The next couple of weeks will be tough. My short term runs out in a week. MetLife decides whether I qualify for long term disability or not. Whether I am approved or not, I am no longer an employee of the company I've worked for since 02/17/2006. It's a very scary time. I would have never believed you if you would have said five years ago that I would have been in this position today. It is unreal. Other people have given up under more forgiving circumstances. I've said this before. We can't give up. We can't give up. We cannot give up.

Don't let me go, Jessi.

I Am A Rockstar Dad or How Bohemian Rhapsody Makes My Daughter Vomit

The last few days, every time our daughter says "Mama", my wife and I both say, "Oh oh oh oh". We're hoping to have her know all the words to 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by the time she is two. We're sick like that.

Anyway, my wife was indisposed, and the baby had a poopy diaper. It was my turn to change the nasty diaper, so I picked up the baby and laid her down on her changing table to be changed. As I am changing her, I start singing 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. I'm doing the voices and everything. She's loving it.

I get to the "Galileo" part, and I'm zooming in and out in front of her face. She's cracking up. Her eyes are bigger than I have ever seen them. Her mouth is open wide and going back and forth between a smile and a big "O" shape.

By the time I'm singing "Let him go!", I've forgotten about putting the new diaper back on. She's hysterical. She has the hiccups and is clapping. I feel like I'm opening up for Robin Williams at the Improv.

Then comes the greatest line of one of the most legendary rock songs ever written: "Beelzebub has a devil put a side for me...for meeee.....FOR MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!" Just as I hit the high note, my daughter's face goes from a look of pure joy to "I'm not so sure about this".

Suddenly, thick chunky dark green sludge launched about eight inches out of my daughter's mouth. It covers my arms, my hands, her stomach, shirt, face and hair. My first thought: "HOLY FUCK!". Second thought: "Jimi Hendrix, Jimi Hendrix". My daughter was still on her back and she was choking on her own vomit. I turned her over on her stomach, gave her a couple of good thwacks on the back until she started breathing OK, and stood her up.

I was as cool and as calm as could be, like I had done this a hundred times. Any other time, I would have been blowing chunks all over the bedroom, but I grabbed a handful of baby wipes, and started cleaning the little squirt down. This was the first time she had puked and was old enough to be aware of what was going on. I was cleaning her off. She looked at me, slowly looked down at herself, and yelled "Mama". And into the shower she went.

I was so proud of myself. I handled it like a pro. Almost more like a roadie than a dad. Let's put it this way...if I would have been on Janis Joplin's detail, she'd probably still be alive.