I have seen the future of gaming. I have seen the hottest video game title of the year. The game people will be trading everything they have into GameStop in order to buy before Christmas morning. That game is 'DJ Hero'.
Jessi and I were at Best Buy this afternoon, and were able to experience a hands-on demo of the game. The demo featured three songs:
'Heard It Through The Grapevine' vs. 'Feel Good Inc.'
'Hollaback Girl' vs. 'Give It To Me'
'Boom Boom Pow' vs. 'Satisfaction'
The mixes are first rate. Just as good, if not better than anything that I've heard in the club. It's no surprise why. Mixes by DJ AM, Z-Trip, and other world class DJs were used by the makers of the game to make it as genuine as possible. If I were able to rip these tracks off as MP3s, the game would be worth it alone just for the music.
The hardware was sturdy and realistic. It looked and acted as a real turntable. Not as big, but life like.
My only complaint, the price. At $120, it's a little pricey when other games out there are selling for $60. You literally can get two other games that are coming out for the Christmas holiday, or another title with a cool peripheral('Tony Hawk's Ride') for the same price.
I must admit, the game is going to do for turntable sales what 'Guitar Hero'/'RockBand' did for guitars. I can't wait to see what DLC they have coming out for this game. I can't wait to see a bunch of little eight year olds wanting to be DJs....only in a perfect world.
Friday, October 16, 2009
A Lovely Greeting Card
Our friend Heather is having her baby shower tomorrow afternoon. She and her boyfriend Adam are expecting a little girl, Teagan Jade, within the next 3-4 weeks. Tonight, my wife and I found the card we are going to give with our present. It reads as follows:
Outside:
SOMEDAY, she'll be a famous pianist
or a high school science teacher.
She'll settle down, marry, have a couple of kids.
Maybe she won't
SOMEDAY, she'll help millions of people
all over the world.
Or maybe she'll travel,
send letters from Africa
or phone you from Rome.
SOMEDAY, she'll be a strong,
confident woman...
Inside:
...but you'll always remember
the first time
you held her in your arms.
SOMEDAY, she'll have
her own hopes and dreams,
not knowing that once upon
a quiet time, you closed your eyes
and dreamed
to have her in your life.
I instantly started crying. Lennon climbed up the cart to hug me. I knew this was "the card".
I didn't get to hold Lennon until the morning after she was born. She was crying in the NICU. Jessi and I were scrubbing in. There were 20 other babies crying in the room with her. Although I had never heard her cry before, I recognized my baby. I told Jessi, "That's Lennon". When we walked into the room, I walked up to her isolette, leaned over, and said, "It's OK, daddy's here". She turned to me and stopped crying. It was the happiest moment of my life. It was more than anything I could have ever imagined.
Sure, sometimes parenting is hard as hell. Sometimes she can be a pain in the ass(I hate to say it...but it's true). But there are times when it's the easiest thing I have ever done. She loves dancing and singing. She howls like a Wild Thing. She is the greatest thing I have ever done.
Heather...Adam...Congratulations. Enjoy this time. Be sure to teach her what is important to you. Communicate with each other. Play fair, and have fun.
Outside:
SOMEDAY, she'll be a famous pianist
or a high school science teacher.
She'll settle down, marry, have a couple of kids.
Maybe she won't
SOMEDAY, she'll help millions of people
all over the world.
Or maybe she'll travel,
send letters from Africa
or phone you from Rome.
SOMEDAY, she'll be a strong,
confident woman...
Inside:
...but you'll always remember
the first time
you held her in your arms.
SOMEDAY, she'll have
her own hopes and dreams,
not knowing that once upon
a quiet time, you closed your eyes
and dreamed
to have her in your life.
I instantly started crying. Lennon climbed up the cart to hug me. I knew this was "the card".
I didn't get to hold Lennon until the morning after she was born. She was crying in the NICU. Jessi and I were scrubbing in. There were 20 other babies crying in the room with her. Although I had never heard her cry before, I recognized my baby. I told Jessi, "That's Lennon". When we walked into the room, I walked up to her isolette, leaned over, and said, "It's OK, daddy's here". She turned to me and stopped crying. It was the happiest moment of my life. It was more than anything I could have ever imagined.
Sure, sometimes parenting is hard as hell. Sometimes she can be a pain in the ass(I hate to say it...but it's true). But there are times when it's the easiest thing I have ever done. She loves dancing and singing. She howls like a Wild Thing. She is the greatest thing I have ever done.
Heather...Adam...Congratulations. Enjoy this time. Be sure to teach her what is important to you. Communicate with each other. Play fair, and have fun.
Autobiographical Songs Part IV
Jehovah's Witnesses don't believe in heaven. Well, not in the traditional sense. They don't consider it to be an option to be their final resting place. They don't believe in hell either.
They believe that when you die, you die....that's it. You become worm food. You lie in the ground. Romantic, isn't it? They believe that soon, god(yes, I am intentionally using a small G), will bring an end to all the evil and wickedness on earth in one big showdown called Armageddon. This is when he will smite all the evil ones with floods, and earthquakes, and lightning bolts shot from his arse. From what I have been taught by my mother, this is the wait awaiting myself and my family for not following god's will.
In October of 2006, My Chemical Romance released 'The Black Parade', an emo powerhouse of an album. Produced by Rob Cavallo, the producer of 'American Idiot', this was a masterpiece of a record from front to back, and easily, the best rock album of the year. Track nine was a little ditty called 'Mama', which actually had a cameo from Liza Minnelli. With the events that were occurring in my life at the time, I especially took pleasure in this track. To this day, I still have a Devilish smile every time I hear it.
Below are the lyrics and the song for those of you who haven't heard it. Enjoy.
Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
I'm writing this letter and wishing you well,
Mama, we all go to hell.
Oh, well, now,
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry,
Mama, we're all gonna die.
And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.
And when you go don't return to me my love.
Mama, we're all full of lies.
Mama, we're meant for the flies.
And right now they're building a coffin your size,
Mama, we're all full of lies.
Well Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue,
You should've raised a baby girl,
I should've been a better son.
If you could coddle the infection
They can amputate at once.
You should've been,
I could have been a better son.
And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.
She said: "You ain't no son of mine
For what you've done they're gonna find
A place for you
And just you mind your manners when you go.
And when you go, don't return to me, my love."
That's right.
Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
It's really quite pleasant
Except for the smell,
Mama, we all go to hell.
2 - 3 - 4
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ohhh!
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ma...
[Liza Minelli:] And if you would call me your sweetheart,
I'd maybe then sing you a song
[Gerard Way:] But this shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun,
You would cry out your eyes all along.
We're damned after all.
Through fortune and flame we fall.
And if you can stay then I'll show you the way,
To return from the ashes you call.
We all carry on (We all carry on)
When our brothers in arms are gone (When our brothers in arms are gone)
So raise your glass high
For tomorrow we die,
And return from the ashes you call
They believe that when you die, you die....that's it. You become worm food. You lie in the ground. Romantic, isn't it? They believe that soon, god(yes, I am intentionally using a small G), will bring an end to all the evil and wickedness on earth in one big showdown called Armageddon. This is when he will smite all the evil ones with floods, and earthquakes, and lightning bolts shot from his arse. From what I have been taught by my mother, this is the wait awaiting myself and my family for not following god's will.
In October of 2006, My Chemical Romance released 'The Black Parade', an emo powerhouse of an album. Produced by Rob Cavallo, the producer of 'American Idiot', this was a masterpiece of a record from front to back, and easily, the best rock album of the year. Track nine was a little ditty called 'Mama', which actually had a cameo from Liza Minnelli. With the events that were occurring in my life at the time, I especially took pleasure in this track. To this day, I still have a Devilish smile every time I hear it.
Below are the lyrics and the song for those of you who haven't heard it. Enjoy.
Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
I'm writing this letter and wishing you well,
Mama, we all go to hell.
Oh, well, now,
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Mama, we're all gonna die.
Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry,
Mama, we're all gonna die.
And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.
And when you go don't return to me my love.
Mama, we're all full of lies.
Mama, we're meant for the flies.
And right now they're building a coffin your size,
Mama, we're all full of lies.
Well Mother, what the war did to my legs and to my tongue,
You should've raised a baby girl,
I should've been a better son.
If you could coddle the infection
They can amputate at once.
You should've been,
I could have been a better son.
And when we go don't blame us, yeah.
We'll let the fires just bathe us, yeah.
You made us, oh, so famous.
We'll never let you go.
She said: "You ain't no son of mine
For what you've done they're gonna find
A place for you
And just you mind your manners when you go.
And when you go, don't return to me, my love."
That's right.
Mama, we all go to hell.
Mama, we all go to hell.
It's really quite pleasant
Except for the smell,
Mama, we all go to hell.
2 - 3 - 4
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ohhh!
Mama! Mama! Mama! Ma...
[Liza Minelli:] And if you would call me your sweetheart,
I'd maybe then sing you a song
[Gerard Way:] But this shit that I've done with this fuck of a gun,
You would cry out your eyes all along.
We're damned after all.
Through fortune and flame we fall.
And if you can stay then I'll show you the way,
To return from the ashes you call.
We all carry on (We all carry on)
When our brothers in arms are gone (When our brothers in arms are gone)
So raise your glass high
For tomorrow we die,
And return from the ashes you call
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Autobiographical Songs Part III
On January 6, 2006, I quit my job with the family business, and, a couple of weeks later, stopped all communication with my family altogether. This caused major mental and emotional issues to develop since the situation was a long time coming. Instead of walking away from my family, it was more like a "mutual disowning". I was no longer a Jehovah's Witness, and had gotten to the point where I was not going to play along with their requirement of living a double life any longer.
I was hurt and confused. I felt like I had done something wrong. I was grieving the loss of my family, especially my mother. Throughout my life, she had been my best friend and the one that had always been there for me. I had set her up on a pedestal for so many years, and I felt as if I had let her down.
In July of 2006, Blue October released the single, 'Hate Me'. I had heard it on the radio a time or two and instantly thought of my mother. I thought of how much I had let her down, and how disappointed she had to be in me.
Later that next month, Jessi, my girlfriend at the time, and I were watching something on TV. Something came on that reminded me of my mother and I started to cry. I cried about the situation quite a bit during that time, but this time was different. My whole upper body jerked, as if I had been hit with defibrillator paddles but I didn't have a bed behind me to catch my shoulders or head.
"Are you OK?"
"I don't kno..." BAM...It happened again.
"What's going on hun?"
"I have no idea"....BAM.....BAM..BAM BAM...By now I'm hysterically crying and jerking uncontrollably. The tics are coming about once every 2-3 seconds, the next more violent than the last. By now my hands are shaking. I know it has to be stress induced.
Jessi draws a hot bath for me. I'm still crying, ticking, shaking....but now rocking front to back. I keep saying to Jessi, "I fucking hate her. I fucking hate her. How can you do this to your own fucking child?"
"I don't know hun. I don't know."
That was the night that I had my first Tourette's tic. I was diagnosed almost three years later, and then diagnosed with PTSD 5 weeks after that. I have had a total of 5 days without a tic since that night in the bathtub. Needless to say it was a pretty memorable night.
So what does this have to do with the song? That was also the night where the role of "Monster" in my mind was played by my mother instead of by me. I used to think that I was the black sheep, the odd man out. I realized that night that I was the one that finally said no to the years of brainwashing an manipulation and abuse at the hands of my mother. The song initially had a meaning to me of "sorry I'm not who you wanted me to be, so I'll drive as far as I can away from you so I can't hurt you anymore". Then, overnight, it became a "look what you tried to do to me, but I was stronger than you, so I'll drive as far as I can away from you so you can't hurt me anymore with what you consider love".
To be honest, the song still throws up some very bad memories. So many, in fact, that I can't even listen to the song without going into a breakdown. I used to sing it all the time at karaoke, but it's to heavy of a song to sing. Still a damn good song. That being said, I haven't previewed the clip below, so forgive me if it is not complete.
Interesting side note: The "in house" portion of the video, where it follows the lead singer through the house, was filmed in one take. They sped the audio track up during filming 300% to get the slow motion effect. The video was filmed in the house he grew up in as a teenager.
I was hurt and confused. I felt like I had done something wrong. I was grieving the loss of my family, especially my mother. Throughout my life, she had been my best friend and the one that had always been there for me. I had set her up on a pedestal for so many years, and I felt as if I had let her down.
In July of 2006, Blue October released the single, 'Hate Me'. I had heard it on the radio a time or two and instantly thought of my mother. I thought of how much I had let her down, and how disappointed she had to be in me.
Later that next month, Jessi, my girlfriend at the time, and I were watching something on TV. Something came on that reminded me of my mother and I started to cry. I cried about the situation quite a bit during that time, but this time was different. My whole upper body jerked, as if I had been hit with defibrillator paddles but I didn't have a bed behind me to catch my shoulders or head.
"Are you OK?"
"I don't kno..." BAM...It happened again.
"What's going on hun?"
"I have no idea"....BAM.....BAM..BAM BAM...By now I'm hysterically crying and jerking uncontrollably. The tics are coming about once every 2-3 seconds, the next more violent than the last. By now my hands are shaking. I know it has to be stress induced.
Jessi draws a hot bath for me. I'm still crying, ticking, shaking....but now rocking front to back. I keep saying to Jessi, "I fucking hate her. I fucking hate her. How can you do this to your own fucking child?"
"I don't know hun. I don't know."
That was the night that I had my first Tourette's tic. I was diagnosed almost three years later, and then diagnosed with PTSD 5 weeks after that. I have had a total of 5 days without a tic since that night in the bathtub. Needless to say it was a pretty memorable night.
So what does this have to do with the song? That was also the night where the role of "Monster" in my mind was played by my mother instead of by me. I used to think that I was the black sheep, the odd man out. I realized that night that I was the one that finally said no to the years of brainwashing an manipulation and abuse at the hands of my mother. The song initially had a meaning to me of "sorry I'm not who you wanted me to be, so I'll drive as far as I can away from you so I can't hurt you anymore". Then, overnight, it became a "look what you tried to do to me, but I was stronger than you, so I'll drive as far as I can away from you so you can't hurt me anymore with what you consider love".
To be honest, the song still throws up some very bad memories. So many, in fact, that I can't even listen to the song without going into a breakdown. I used to sing it all the time at karaoke, but it's to heavy of a song to sing. Still a damn good song. That being said, I haven't previewed the clip below, so forgive me if it is not complete.
Interesting side note: The "in house" portion of the video, where it follows the lead singer through the house, was filmed in one take. They sped the audio track up during filming 300% to get the slow motion effect. The video was filmed in the house he grew up in as a teenager.
Quick Update
I called my Neurologist and described all the problems I have been having(Alzheimer's like symptoms, talking in accents, stuttering). They moved up my appointment from November 13th to tomorrow at 11am. I will keep you posted.
Innovative Way To Get People To Use Stairs
Technology has made the world lazy. Admit it. We're all guilty of it. We would rather sit in a line of cars 12 deep in the drive thru than walk into an empty fast food joint with no one at the counter. When we're at the airport, whether we have luggage or not, we take the automated sidewalk. We don't even walk on it. We stand there and let it walk for us. And we ALWAYS...ALWAYS take the escalator, both up and down. We would rather let an automated staircase take us down than gravity and our own two feet.
Well, engineers in Stockholm, Sweden, noticed this too and wanted to change it. So they brainstormed and came up with a way that would give people an incentive to take the stairs rather than take the escalator. Here is what happened:
Well, engineers in Stockholm, Sweden, noticed this too and wanted to change it. So they brainstormed and came up with a way that would give people an incentive to take the stairs rather than take the escalator. Here is what happened:
The Day I Became Pro-Choice
All of my life, because of my religious upbringing, I was vehemently Pro Life. I believed that life started at conception and that abortion was murder. I would be one of those people protesting in front of Planned Parenthood if not for what happened on a random Winter morning in Boulder, Colorado, almost ten years ago.
I commuted North, from Denver, at the time. When you come into town, the main vein coming off the freeway is 28th Street. At 7:30 in the morning, everyone in town is on 28th Street, either coming in from Boulder to go to work, or taking their kids to school. The city's main high school, and a number of the city's elementary and middle schools were off of 28th as well.
I'm coming into town, and it is bumper to bumper as usual, but something was different that day. Horns were honking like crazy. I could see kids crying in the cars ahead of me. I was trying to look around to see if there was an accident or a dead puppy in the road.
And that's when I saw them.
The Pro-Lifers. Sixteen of them. Four on the median on each side of the street. Walking up and down during the red lights. Two of the four were carrying signs that were eight feet tall, showing a high resolution photo of the aftermath of an abortion. It was a trash can in a clinic, with fetal "parts" and blood. That was why the children were crying. The other two protesters were carrying signs.
I was disgusted. Not only by the signs, but by the tactics of these people on the corner. 7:30am on a Monday morning, knowing full well that their message would be seen by little kids on their way to school, and worse, daycare. I started getting angry. I caught eyes with one of they guys holding the eight foot signs. I flipped him off. He smiled back and gave me a thumbs up, thinking that was the digit I had used originally. I smiled, shook my head no while giving him a thumbs up, then flipped him off again and shook my head yes. He quickly got the message and went back to hiding behind his sign.
That thirty second interaction at the beginning of my morning ruined my day. Those pictures were all I could think about. I felt violated. I felt as though I had just been through some sort of terrorist attack. I then realized that was it. They were terrorists. They decided the only way they could effectively get their point across was to be so blatantly vulgar about it, so in your face, that you had no choice but to listen. They shoved their message down your throat whether you were paying attention or not, like a suicide bomber. You can't ignore a car bomb exploding across the street, and you can't ignore an eight foot by four foot high resolution print of fetal limbs when it's 18 inches from your windshield.
And these are "God's people".....terrorizing children on their way to school, upsetting innocent people on their way to work. They do this in the name of love? That's where I started to lean Pro-Choice that day. That's where I started to call "bullshit" on the whole situation. Harassing pregnant teenagers outside Planned Parenthood, killing abortion doctors....all part of God's will? So, it's not OK to terminate a pregnancy, but hunting down abortion doctors like deer is all well and good? Um...Shenanigans!!!!
And then I started thinking about our Constitution and about how great the Fourth Amendment was, our protection to privacy. You see, it's really none of my business, and frankly not my place, to say what a woman should or shouldn't do with her body. What gives me the right to tell someone in Pensacola, FL, that she can or can't do something to her body. Or, who am I to tell a woman in Seattle, WA, that, even though she was raped, she has to carry the baby of the man that raped her. Too bad. That's the law. How ridiculous. The only person that I even have the ability to have that DISCUSSION with is my wife, and it is still ultimately HER DECISION, because it is her body.
Everyone's circumstance is different. Going full term, and giving your baby up for adoption, is a very noble and selfless thing to do. It's not an option for a lot of people. Women become pregnant everyday as a result of rape, incest, and sexual abuse. Women become pregnant everyday that cannot afford the care necessary to bring a baby full term. Women become pregnant everyday that do not have the ability to maintain themselves or a child through a pregnancy. Take a look at my posts. There is no way I would be able to handle a pregnancy in the condition both mentally and physically that I am today. If I were to become pregnant, I would be faced with a very tough choice. Thank god I'm male.
Today, I am a very strong supporter of women's rights, of choice friendly and teen friendly places like Planned Parenthood, and of choice. I am also a strong supporter of contraception and abstinence. I am not a supporter of abstinence only education. Kids are going to have sex when they want to have sex. But I believe that you shouldn't "just because everyone else is", and when you do, be safe.
My point is, if it wasn't for those grotesque signs on 28th Street that morning, I may not have started thinking for myself that day. I ended up seeing a lot more than what was on that sign, and it turned me in a direction that the Pro-Life terrorists hadn't intended on that morning. So in a way...Thank You
I commuted North, from Denver, at the time. When you come into town, the main vein coming off the freeway is 28th Street. At 7:30 in the morning, everyone in town is on 28th Street, either coming in from Boulder to go to work, or taking their kids to school. The city's main high school, and a number of the city's elementary and middle schools were off of 28th as well.
I'm coming into town, and it is bumper to bumper as usual, but something was different that day. Horns were honking like crazy. I could see kids crying in the cars ahead of me. I was trying to look around to see if there was an accident or a dead puppy in the road.
And that's when I saw them.
The Pro-Lifers. Sixteen of them. Four on the median on each side of the street. Walking up and down during the red lights. Two of the four were carrying signs that were eight feet tall, showing a high resolution photo of the aftermath of an abortion. It was a trash can in a clinic, with fetal "parts" and blood. That was why the children were crying. The other two protesters were carrying signs.
I was disgusted. Not only by the signs, but by the tactics of these people on the corner. 7:30am on a Monday morning, knowing full well that their message would be seen by little kids on their way to school, and worse, daycare. I started getting angry. I caught eyes with one of they guys holding the eight foot signs. I flipped him off. He smiled back and gave me a thumbs up, thinking that was the digit I had used originally. I smiled, shook my head no while giving him a thumbs up, then flipped him off again and shook my head yes. He quickly got the message and went back to hiding behind his sign.
That thirty second interaction at the beginning of my morning ruined my day. Those pictures were all I could think about. I felt violated. I felt as though I had just been through some sort of terrorist attack. I then realized that was it. They were terrorists. They decided the only way they could effectively get their point across was to be so blatantly vulgar about it, so in your face, that you had no choice but to listen. They shoved their message down your throat whether you were paying attention or not, like a suicide bomber. You can't ignore a car bomb exploding across the street, and you can't ignore an eight foot by four foot high resolution print of fetal limbs when it's 18 inches from your windshield.
And these are "God's people".....terrorizing children on their way to school, upsetting innocent people on their way to work. They do this in the name of love? That's where I started to lean Pro-Choice that day. That's where I started to call "bullshit" on the whole situation. Harassing pregnant teenagers outside Planned Parenthood, killing abortion doctors....all part of God's will? So, it's not OK to terminate a pregnancy, but hunting down abortion doctors like deer is all well and good? Um...Shenanigans!!!!
And then I started thinking about our Constitution and about how great the Fourth Amendment was, our protection to privacy. You see, it's really none of my business, and frankly not my place, to say what a woman should or shouldn't do with her body. What gives me the right to tell someone in Pensacola, FL, that she can or can't do something to her body. Or, who am I to tell a woman in Seattle, WA, that, even though she was raped, she has to carry the baby of the man that raped her. Too bad. That's the law. How ridiculous. The only person that I even have the ability to have that DISCUSSION with is my wife, and it is still ultimately HER DECISION, because it is her body.
Everyone's circumstance is different. Going full term, and giving your baby up for adoption, is a very noble and selfless thing to do. It's not an option for a lot of people. Women become pregnant everyday as a result of rape, incest, and sexual abuse. Women become pregnant everyday that cannot afford the care necessary to bring a baby full term. Women become pregnant everyday that do not have the ability to maintain themselves or a child through a pregnancy. Take a look at my posts. There is no way I would be able to handle a pregnancy in the condition both mentally and physically that I am today. If I were to become pregnant, I would be faced with a very tough choice. Thank god I'm male.
Today, I am a very strong supporter of women's rights, of choice friendly and teen friendly places like Planned Parenthood, and of choice. I am also a strong supporter of contraception and abstinence. I am not a supporter of abstinence only education. Kids are going to have sex when they want to have sex. But I believe that you shouldn't "just because everyone else is", and when you do, be safe.
My point is, if it wasn't for those grotesque signs on 28th Street that morning, I may not have started thinking for myself that day. I ended up seeing a lot more than what was on that sign, and it turned me in a direction that the Pro-Life terrorists hadn't intended on that morning. So in a way...Thank You
I Say A Little Prayer
For those of you that thought that 'Glee' couldn't get any more gay, I present to you, The Full Silkwood:
I love it. Fabulous.
I love it. Fabulous.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
My 180th Day
I have been out of work since February 3rd, sort of. Let me explain. I used FMLA time available to me from 02/03-02/14 for the most part and then went out on short term disability for five weeks. When I returned from short term, I was able to spend maybe 2 hours a day without going home sick or using more FMLA time. Between the time I came back and the time I went back out on disability again on April 7th, my wife and I had prescheduled vacation for the third week of March. We finally took our honeymoon and went to Vegas.
It was one of the greatest weeks of my life. It was so nice to be able to do it while we had the money and before everything went downhill with the diagnoses that were to follow shortly. I'll never forget a minute of the time we spent together that week. It was a dream come true.
Shortly after coming back from Vegas, things got so bad with my anxiety that I was having 6 or more panic attacks at work a day. I filed my second, and final, short term claim, on April 7th. That was 180 days ago.
So, it's 7:33 in the morning on my 180th day. My have things changed from day one. It is no secret that my condition has changed since day one. I have made that clear in multiple posts. I have changed in a lot of ways. When I first started, all I did was watch TV. I thought it was so cool that I was getting paid to watch TV and play video games all day. TV and video games become boring very quickly. Now, I spend my time on the internet a lot. It is amazing how informed you become when you read the news from a number of different perspectives.
On June 14th, I discovered Twitter. Ran with that and abused it like it was a new Christmas present. I still Tweet three or four times a week, but Twitter has lost it's appeal (that is a post for a later time).
On September 11th, I wrote my first blog. I believe this is my 45th blog that I am writing today. Averaging 1.5 a day....living up to the name of the page....not bad. Just hope I'm boring all of you. I love blogging. It's become a hobby. I see a future in it.
Instead of TV, I spend my time now doing crazy things like making soap and clock making. I'm developing hobbies for the first time in my life. I guess that's what happens when you have 24 hours to fill in a day and nothing to do.
The time off of work had given me one huge benefit. I have been able to get to know my daughter. I've seen her first step. I've been there the first time she used the "big girl potty". By the way, replacement cost for 'Where the Wild Things Are' is $17.41. I get to wake her up every morning, make her bottle at night, and have her say "Nigh Nigh Pa Pa" before going to bed every night. I would have missed a lot of that had I been at work.
I should find out Monday if this becomes semi-permanent. If so, it means a lot more blogging, a lot more soap, and much more boredom....Jesus this gets boring sometimes.
I'm nervous about the outcome. I need the long term status. I can't work. I would much rather it be paid that just be unemployed. Things are tough as it is. We get by, sometimes, I don't know how....but we get by.
Here's to the next 180.
It was one of the greatest weeks of my life. It was so nice to be able to do it while we had the money and before everything went downhill with the diagnoses that were to follow shortly. I'll never forget a minute of the time we spent together that week. It was a dream come true.
Shortly after coming back from Vegas, things got so bad with my anxiety that I was having 6 or more panic attacks at work a day. I filed my second, and final, short term claim, on April 7th. That was 180 days ago.
So, it's 7:33 in the morning on my 180th day. My have things changed from day one. It is no secret that my condition has changed since day one. I have made that clear in multiple posts. I have changed in a lot of ways. When I first started, all I did was watch TV. I thought it was so cool that I was getting paid to watch TV and play video games all day. TV and video games become boring very quickly. Now, I spend my time on the internet a lot. It is amazing how informed you become when you read the news from a number of different perspectives.
On June 14th, I discovered Twitter. Ran with that and abused it like it was a new Christmas present. I still Tweet three or four times a week, but Twitter has lost it's appeal (that is a post for a later time).
On September 11th, I wrote my first blog. I believe this is my 45th blog that I am writing today. Averaging 1.5 a day....living up to the name of the page....not bad. Just hope I'm boring all of you. I love blogging. It's become a hobby. I see a future in it.
Instead of TV, I spend my time now doing crazy things like making soap and clock making. I'm developing hobbies for the first time in my life. I guess that's what happens when you have 24 hours to fill in a day and nothing to do.
The time off of work had given me one huge benefit. I have been able to get to know my daughter. I've seen her first step. I've been there the first time she used the "big girl potty". By the way, replacement cost for 'Where the Wild Things Are' is $17.41. I get to wake her up every morning, make her bottle at night, and have her say "Nigh Nigh Pa Pa" before going to bed every night. I would have missed a lot of that had I been at work.
I should find out Monday if this becomes semi-permanent. If so, it means a lot more blogging, a lot more soap, and much more boredom....Jesus this gets boring sometimes.
I'm nervous about the outcome. I need the long term status. I can't work. I would much rather it be paid that just be unemployed. Things are tough as it is. We get by, sometimes, I don't know how....but we get by.
Here's to the next 180.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Only Word That Comes To Mind Is "De-Evolution"
It appears that over the last 6-9 months, my brain has taken a rapid deterioration compared to how I used to function. It's almost as if I have taken a step 30 years backward, or 40 years forward.
I get lost in the grocery store. I forget my wife's and daughter's names sometimes. As I have stated in previous blog postings(see 10/10/09), I have trouble associating words with objects or places. It's almost as if I have Alzheimer's at the age of 34. I don't know if that is normal for people with PTSD, but it is frustrating as all hell.
I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I used to be a genius. My communication skills and multitasking abilities were second to none. I can't even put mayo on a ham sandwich now. If I'm rinsing a dish in the sink, and my wife asks me a question, I have to put down the dish, and turn off the water to answer the question. Then it usually takes between two to three minutes for me to remember what I was doing before the question was asked. Yesterday, I was on a website, and the site was telling me to hit a button that said "OK" to continue. My wife and daughter were in the room, making noise in the background. I read the instructions on the computer close to twenty times before asking my wife and daughter to leave the room so I could concentrate on what I was doing. All I had to do was click "OK", and I had to have complete silence in the room so I could read the instructions for the twenty first time.
Without my wife reminding me, most days, I forget to eat. I forget to shower, to shave, to take my pills, to even drink water sometimes. Many days, when I do attempt to make a meal, I am so indecisive, my wife practically has to tell me what to eat. I don't know what I'm hungry for. In fact, I don't even realize what I am feeling is hunger.
And, to top it all off, my brain has turned me into a ventriloquist's dummy. Remember my previous post where I spontaneously started talking like Matthew McConaughey? (see 09/21/09) Well, it's still happening. Not too frequently, but ol' Matt has company. I now am speaking in an authentic Northern Irish accent on a regular basis, for extended periods of time. This is happening unannounced, and out of my control. I'm even using phrases like "da'" instead of dad. It sounds so genuine, you would think I was in the IRA. I have no idea how, or why, this is happening. And, just as soon as it starts, it stops.
My only fear is that what has started will not be able to reverse itself, but only get worse. This song seems to fit right now. I have to keep telling myself "I'm just a little unwell....."
I get lost in the grocery store. I forget my wife's and daughter's names sometimes. As I have stated in previous blog postings(see 10/10/09), I have trouble associating words with objects or places. It's almost as if I have Alzheimer's at the age of 34. I don't know if that is normal for people with PTSD, but it is frustrating as all hell.
I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I used to be a genius. My communication skills and multitasking abilities were second to none. I can't even put mayo on a ham sandwich now. If I'm rinsing a dish in the sink, and my wife asks me a question, I have to put down the dish, and turn off the water to answer the question. Then it usually takes between two to three minutes for me to remember what I was doing before the question was asked. Yesterday, I was on a website, and the site was telling me to hit a button that said "OK" to continue. My wife and daughter were in the room, making noise in the background. I read the instructions on the computer close to twenty times before asking my wife and daughter to leave the room so I could concentrate on what I was doing. All I had to do was click "OK", and I had to have complete silence in the room so I could read the instructions for the twenty first time.
Without my wife reminding me, most days, I forget to eat. I forget to shower, to shave, to take my pills, to even drink water sometimes. Many days, when I do attempt to make a meal, I am so indecisive, my wife practically has to tell me what to eat. I don't know what I'm hungry for. In fact, I don't even realize what I am feeling is hunger.
And, to top it all off, my brain has turned me into a ventriloquist's dummy. Remember my previous post where I spontaneously started talking like Matthew McConaughey? (see 09/21/09) Well, it's still happening. Not too frequently, but ol' Matt has company. I now am speaking in an authentic Northern Irish accent on a regular basis, for extended periods of time. This is happening unannounced, and out of my control. I'm even using phrases like "da'" instead of dad. It sounds so genuine, you would think I was in the IRA. I have no idea how, or why, this is happening. And, just as soon as it starts, it stops.
My only fear is that what has started will not be able to reverse itself, but only get worse. This song seems to fit right now. I have to keep telling myself "I'm just a little unwell....."
Songs That Get Under Your Skin, Part II
Recorded for the 2001 film 'Donnie Darko', this cover of the 1982 Tears for Fears hit 'Mad World', by Gary Jules, instantly, and forever, gets under your skin.
I remember watching the movie the first time. The song comes in at the end. Instead of paying attention to the movie, I'm thinking to myself, "Oh my god. What a creepy song. Wait. Is that 'Mad World'?
The song is stunning. The first time you hear it, the piano(courtesy of Michael Andrews) will haunt you for days. The song has been featured in many TV shows and commercials since 2001, most notably A&E's 'The Cleaner', and 'CSI'. XBox 360 had a very successful ad campaign a couple of years ago using the song for it's 'Gears of War' game. But for me, it will always remind me of 'Donnie Darko'. Hope you enjoy the song, and I hope it haunts you too until you have to pass it on to someone else.
I remember watching the movie the first time. The song comes in at the end. Instead of paying attention to the movie, I'm thinking to myself, "Oh my god. What a creepy song. Wait. Is that 'Mad World'?
The song is stunning. The first time you hear it, the piano(courtesy of Michael Andrews) will haunt you for days. The song has been featured in many TV shows and commercials since 2001, most notably A&E's 'The Cleaner', and 'CSI'. XBox 360 had a very successful ad campaign a couple of years ago using the song for it's 'Gears of War' game. But for me, it will always remind me of 'Donnie Darko'. Hope you enjoy the song, and I hope it haunts you too until you have to pass it on to someone else.
Life Update 10/13/2009
Last night was the first good night of sleep(7 hours) I've had in the last four to five days. Lately, I have either been going to bed at midnight and waking up at 4:15, or going to bed at 2:30 and waking up at 6:30.
Jessi decided to move the bed back to the bedroom from the living room. Our air conditioning unit was too small for this house, so, during the summer months, it would never drop below 85 in the bedroom. Now that it's getting cooler, we thought it was a good idea to give the old switcharoo a try. I must admit, I had a very pleasant, comfortable sleep, and the temperature of the room felt just right.
I have been fighting with my insurance company for them to make a decision on my long term disability status. I made a phone call on Thursday, and thankfully came in contact with a very helpful case manager. We had discovered that the long term process had not even been started for my case. Keep in mind, at that time, my short term disability was due to run out in seven days. He started the ball rolling and was going to get all the paperwork printed. He told me that process took at least 24 hours for their system to do, sometimes 48. Instead of mailing it to me, he was going to email it to me to save time. He said that if, for some reason, the system didn't generate the new claim until Saturday, he would come in on his day off and email it to me personally. He even gave me his direct number. I have spoken to maybe 30 different case managers at MetLife, and not one has given me their direct number. How is that for customer service?
I received the email at 4:45am Friday morning. It has almost 40 pages of attachments. Some to read. Most to fill out. They want everything from a 15 year job history, medication history, doctor history, medical procedure history, a description of my medical issues in my words...26 pages of handwritten documentation to fill out. The local homeowners association offices were kind enough to let me fax the paperwork from their offices at no charge yesterday. Metlife is putting a fast track on the paperwork, so hopefully I'll have a decision within a week. But now it's out of my hands. I have done everything I can. All I can do now is wait.
Side note: Lennon has peed in her "big girl potty" a second time. This time voluntarily. She ran from our room to hers and pointed to her potty. We took off her diaper, she sat down and did her business. She's growing up so fast. :)
Jessi decided to move the bed back to the bedroom from the living room. Our air conditioning unit was too small for this house, so, during the summer months, it would never drop below 85 in the bedroom. Now that it's getting cooler, we thought it was a good idea to give the old switcharoo a try. I must admit, I had a very pleasant, comfortable sleep, and the temperature of the room felt just right.
I have been fighting with my insurance company for them to make a decision on my long term disability status. I made a phone call on Thursday, and thankfully came in contact with a very helpful case manager. We had discovered that the long term process had not even been started for my case. Keep in mind, at that time, my short term disability was due to run out in seven days. He started the ball rolling and was going to get all the paperwork printed. He told me that process took at least 24 hours for their system to do, sometimes 48. Instead of mailing it to me, he was going to email it to me to save time. He said that if, for some reason, the system didn't generate the new claim until Saturday, he would come in on his day off and email it to me personally. He even gave me his direct number. I have spoken to maybe 30 different case managers at MetLife, and not one has given me their direct number. How is that for customer service?
I received the email at 4:45am Friday morning. It has almost 40 pages of attachments. Some to read. Most to fill out. They want everything from a 15 year job history, medication history, doctor history, medical procedure history, a description of my medical issues in my words...26 pages of handwritten documentation to fill out. The local homeowners association offices were kind enough to let me fax the paperwork from their offices at no charge yesterday. Metlife is putting a fast track on the paperwork, so hopefully I'll have a decision within a week. But now it's out of my hands. I have done everything I can. All I can do now is wait.
Side note: Lennon has peed in her "big girl potty" a second time. This time voluntarily. She ran from our room to hers and pointed to her potty. We took off her diaper, she sat down and did her business. She's growing up so fast. :)
Sunday, October 11, 2009
A Personal Coming Out Story
With today being National Coming Out Day, I thought I would give the story of the day someone very close to myself and my family came out of the closet. That day is today, and that individual is me. I am bisexual. My story starts out confusingly enough, many years ago....
My mother's way of teaching sex education was almost encyclopedic. Her methods of explaining "the birds and the bees" were so technical and used so many "appropriate" words, that, until the age of 14, I actually thought that a vagina was the female word for the butt. I remember asking my mom what was wrong about being gay. Her response was, "They do it up the butt". I thought, "Well, doesn't everyone"?
I remember being fascinated with breasts at an early age. It didn't matter how big or small, how perky or round, count me in. But again, it wasn't until the age of 14 that I found out what made a woman...well, a woman. I was taking the trash out to the alley dumpster. The next door neighbor kid had thrown away part of his porno stash, and, on the top of the pile, was a copy of Penthouse Genesis. Genesis was the magazine Penthouse released at the time that showed the things that Penthouse couldn't get away with.
I opened the magazine up and was disgusted. "Oh my god. This girl is deformed. She has two asses. So does this one.....and this one. Oh. My. God....These. Are. VAGINAS? I'm supposed to put mine in THERE? NO WAY. NO THANK YOU." But I hid the magazine anyway. I was a "straight" kid. That's what I was supposed to do.
Throughout my teens, I fantasized about every girl I knew. Boys weren't even an option. Masturbated like a rabid wolverine. Sex education class was offered in high school health class. Of course, my mom refused to let me stay in class to participate. She felt that it did nothing but "encourage young people to have sex". I was hoping it would explain to me how sex worked. I remember seeing the pictures on the doctor's office wall of the male and female bodies split in half with everything labeled, and I still couldn't find most of the parts ON MY OWN BODY.
My health teacher was a little, old, Native American woman, who loved to inflict punishment on the two or three Jehovah's Witness kids that refused to take sex ed in her class every year. She had us go to the library every day for that period. Our alternative assignment was a 60 page, hand written, single spaced report on the health topic of our choosing. Just to be a smart ass, I chose to write my paper on sex. Most of my source material came from a Witness book called 'Questions Young People Ask: Answers That Work', which supposedly dealt with the moral and ethical issues involving sex and dating, but was mostly the perspective of a bunch of 80 year old men on the current teenage sex and dating scene. Got an A.
Anyway....moving on. As I was finishing high school and becoming an adult, all of my "worldly" (non JW) friends were saying "Come on, man. Just come out already." But I felt that I was firmly 100% straight. I had known other people in the church that were flamboyantly gay that had families and felt sorry for them. But me, no sir, straight as can be. At the time, I was still very homophobic, and had a hatred for gays and lesbians. I was brought up to hate them. My parents even taught me, "Don't call them Gay...that's their word. Call them homosexuals. That's what God calls them".
I started working at Chase Bank in '98. They were a very diverse company. At the time I worked there, I believe 38% of the employees on the campus were LGBT. That really opened my eyes. When all 3 of my supervisors, my Director, and two of my cubical mates were gay men, you can't help but break down that wall. You start to realize, "What is everyone so scared of. Why are these people a threat"? That was just the beginning of my experience with the gay community.
I answered a personal ad around the same time(I had stopped practicing as a Witness in 1996), and met a girl for lunch. Her name was Angel. We met at a sub shop. She walked in with steel toe boots, a tank top, shaved head and a pierced nose. It was love at first sight. At the end of our meal, she said, "Just to let you know, I'm lesbian."
"I sorta figured".
"My girlfriend cheated on me with some dude and I thought I would get back at her by doing the same. I can't go through with it though".
"That's cool".
We were best friends from that moment on. She took me to her favorite hang out, Ain't Nobody's Biz, a lesbian bar in Central Phoenix. We would go for karaoke every Monday night. Angel eventually started telling me, "Dude, you need to come out". This is when it got really confusing.
I placed an application at a local gay book store and gift shop, the Obelisk, as a cashier/stock person. I figured the best way to know if I'm gay is to immerse myself in the community. During the interview, the owner asked me how long I had been out to my parents. I told him I was straight. He said, "You realize, this is a GAY book store. You're going to have days where all you'll do is alphabetize the GAY PORN or GAY EROTICA". I explained to him my confusion and my dilemma. I told him, that to me, this was the most logical way to figure things out. He hired me on the spot.
My god, what an experience. First, to realize that gay people just weren't Puerto Ricans in pink feather boas...but old committed couples, gentlemen that reminded you of your grandpa, businessmen, the girliest of men, and the most embarrassed manly high school football players coming in after school to pick something up for their boyfriends.
The owner taught me so much. He was never to busy to answer a question. "What's Stonewall? Who's Harvey Milk? What's the deal with the rainbow? Why are the fat, hairy guys into me?" One thing he said to me, something I'll never forget, is this: "Adam, so many people classify themselves based upon who they're fucking. Being gay, or straight, or bi, is a lifestyle. It's in here(points to heart) and here(head). To base your whole life upon who you're sticking your dick into...that's just sad". I really took that to heart. I realized that I was physically attracted to women but I thought like a gay man.
Around that same time, Angel took me to my first gay club. I walked in and looked around. I then sat down on a couch and started crying. It was the first time I had been somewhere where I felt like I belonged, like I fit in, like I wasn't going to be judged or looked at funny. Angel leaned over and said, "I know honey. It's ok. Welcome home".
That night, I must have had a dozen guys come up to me. Poor Angel would step in and say, "Sorry, he's one of us, but he's not one of us just yet". Over the years, with Angel by my side, I made out with a couple of guys. I enjoyed it. But nothing much has happened other than that.
Since Angel and I had parted ways, I kept the secret to myself. Then came my wife. We got to a point in our relationship where I knew I could completely be myself and nothing I could say or do would scare her away. We would talk about our fantasies, and I would test the waters. We would be watching TV and I would test the waters and say something like, "Damn Taye Diggs looks hot", and she would be cool. Then we got to talking.
She wants me to be myself, just like I want her to be herself. I know she's not the country girl she was sort of pretending to be the night that I met her. She's told me she loves the fact that she has someone that can love her and be romantic with her and still have those times where she feels like she has that gay best friend.
I've been involved, in some way or another, supporting the LGBT community for a number of years now. In Albuquerque, I DJ-ed at Pride two years in a row. I'm proud to say today that I an now officially part of that community, that they are my brothers and sisters, and that together we will fight for the rights we all deserve.
My mother's way of teaching sex education was almost encyclopedic. Her methods of explaining "the birds and the bees" were so technical and used so many "appropriate" words, that, until the age of 14, I actually thought that a vagina was the female word for the butt. I remember asking my mom what was wrong about being gay. Her response was, "They do it up the butt". I thought, "Well, doesn't everyone"?
I remember being fascinated with breasts at an early age. It didn't matter how big or small, how perky or round, count me in. But again, it wasn't until the age of 14 that I found out what made a woman...well, a woman. I was taking the trash out to the alley dumpster. The next door neighbor kid had thrown away part of his porno stash, and, on the top of the pile, was a copy of Penthouse Genesis. Genesis was the magazine Penthouse released at the time that showed the things that Penthouse couldn't get away with.
I opened the magazine up and was disgusted. "Oh my god. This girl is deformed. She has two asses. So does this one.....and this one. Oh. My. God....These. Are. VAGINAS? I'm supposed to put mine in THERE? NO WAY. NO THANK YOU." But I hid the magazine anyway. I was a "straight" kid. That's what I was supposed to do.
Throughout my teens, I fantasized about every girl I knew. Boys weren't even an option. Masturbated like a rabid wolverine. Sex education class was offered in high school health class. Of course, my mom refused to let me stay in class to participate. She felt that it did nothing but "encourage young people to have sex". I was hoping it would explain to me how sex worked. I remember seeing the pictures on the doctor's office wall of the male and female bodies split in half with everything labeled, and I still couldn't find most of the parts ON MY OWN BODY.
My health teacher was a little, old, Native American woman, who loved to inflict punishment on the two or three Jehovah's Witness kids that refused to take sex ed in her class every year. She had us go to the library every day for that period. Our alternative assignment was a 60 page, hand written, single spaced report on the health topic of our choosing. Just to be a smart ass, I chose to write my paper on sex. Most of my source material came from a Witness book called 'Questions Young People Ask: Answers That Work', which supposedly dealt with the moral and ethical issues involving sex and dating, but was mostly the perspective of a bunch of 80 year old men on the current teenage sex and dating scene. Got an A.
Anyway....moving on. As I was finishing high school and becoming an adult, all of my "worldly" (non JW) friends were saying "Come on, man. Just come out already." But I felt that I was firmly 100% straight. I had known other people in the church that were flamboyantly gay that had families and felt sorry for them. But me, no sir, straight as can be. At the time, I was still very homophobic, and had a hatred for gays and lesbians. I was brought up to hate them. My parents even taught me, "Don't call them Gay...that's their word. Call them homosexuals. That's what God calls them".
I started working at Chase Bank in '98. They were a very diverse company. At the time I worked there, I believe 38% of the employees on the campus were LGBT. That really opened my eyes. When all 3 of my supervisors, my Director, and two of my cubical mates were gay men, you can't help but break down that wall. You start to realize, "What is everyone so scared of. Why are these people a threat"? That was just the beginning of my experience with the gay community.
I answered a personal ad around the same time(I had stopped practicing as a Witness in 1996), and met a girl for lunch. Her name was Angel. We met at a sub shop. She walked in with steel toe boots, a tank top, shaved head and a pierced nose. It was love at first sight. At the end of our meal, she said, "Just to let you know, I'm lesbian."
"I sorta figured".
"My girlfriend cheated on me with some dude and I thought I would get back at her by doing the same. I can't go through with it though".
"That's cool".
We were best friends from that moment on. She took me to her favorite hang out, Ain't Nobody's Biz, a lesbian bar in Central Phoenix. We would go for karaoke every Monday night. Angel eventually started telling me, "Dude, you need to come out". This is when it got really confusing.
I placed an application at a local gay book store and gift shop, the Obelisk, as a cashier/stock person. I figured the best way to know if I'm gay is to immerse myself in the community. During the interview, the owner asked me how long I had been out to my parents. I told him I was straight. He said, "You realize, this is a GAY book store. You're going to have days where all you'll do is alphabetize the GAY PORN or GAY EROTICA". I explained to him my confusion and my dilemma. I told him, that to me, this was the most logical way to figure things out. He hired me on the spot.
My god, what an experience. First, to realize that gay people just weren't Puerto Ricans in pink feather boas...but old committed couples, gentlemen that reminded you of your grandpa, businessmen, the girliest of men, and the most embarrassed manly high school football players coming in after school to pick something up for their boyfriends.
The owner taught me so much. He was never to busy to answer a question. "What's Stonewall? Who's Harvey Milk? What's the deal with the rainbow? Why are the fat, hairy guys into me?" One thing he said to me, something I'll never forget, is this: "Adam, so many people classify themselves based upon who they're fucking. Being gay, or straight, or bi, is a lifestyle. It's in here(points to heart) and here(head). To base your whole life upon who you're sticking your dick into...that's just sad". I really took that to heart. I realized that I was physically attracted to women but I thought like a gay man.
Around that same time, Angel took me to my first gay club. I walked in and looked around. I then sat down on a couch and started crying. It was the first time I had been somewhere where I felt like I belonged, like I fit in, like I wasn't going to be judged or looked at funny. Angel leaned over and said, "I know honey. It's ok. Welcome home".
That night, I must have had a dozen guys come up to me. Poor Angel would step in and say, "Sorry, he's one of us, but he's not one of us just yet". Over the years, with Angel by my side, I made out with a couple of guys. I enjoyed it. But nothing much has happened other than that.
Since Angel and I had parted ways, I kept the secret to myself. Then came my wife. We got to a point in our relationship where I knew I could completely be myself and nothing I could say or do would scare her away. We would talk about our fantasies, and I would test the waters. We would be watching TV and I would test the waters and say something like, "Damn Taye Diggs looks hot", and she would be cool. Then we got to talking.
She wants me to be myself, just like I want her to be herself. I know she's not the country girl she was sort of pretending to be the night that I met her. She's told me she loves the fact that she has someone that can love her and be romantic with her and still have those times where she feels like she has that gay best friend.
I've been involved, in some way or another, supporting the LGBT community for a number of years now. In Albuquerque, I DJ-ed at Pride two years in a row. I'm proud to say today that I an now officially part of that community, that they are my brothers and sisters, and that together we will fight for the rights we all deserve.
One Small Leak For My Daughter, One Giant Leap For Parenthood
My daughter, Lennon, turned 17 months old today. Over the last six weeks or so, she has been showing signs that she is ready to start potty training. We went to Ikea about a month or so ago and bought a cute little pink "big girl potty" for her to use.
For the last month, she has thought it was everything from a seat to watch TV in, to a step stool. She just didn't get it...until this last week or so. For roughly the last 10 days, every time she had to go to the bathroom, or just went, she would strip naked. It was like living with a midgit nudist. Funny as all hell, but inappropriate.
When she starts taking her diaper off, that's our que to grab the pink "big girl potty" and try to get her to use it. No success. One night she farted in it. We laughed and applauded. She got so excited, she stood up and took a dump on our living room carpet. Last night, right before bed time, she was sitting on her potty and proceeded to stand up, walk over to the borrowed copy of "Where the Wild Things Are" (See post 'Where The Wild Things Are' dated 10/6/2009)....yes that one, squat and piss ON a "Wild Thing". I now have to call the library to see what the process is to purchase a urinated on children's book.
That brings us to today. I am in the kitchen. My wife is with the baby in Lennon's room. Jessi starts screaming, "Adam, bring M&Ms!!!" I yell back, "What?! We don't have any. What the hell for?"
"Come here".
I ran into Lennon's room and there stood my daughter pointing at a small puddle of orange liquid in a pink plastic bowl. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. I didn't have any M&Ms to give her, but we did have quite a few hugs and high fives. Way to go big girl.
For the last month, she has thought it was everything from a seat to watch TV in, to a step stool. She just didn't get it...until this last week or so. For roughly the last 10 days, every time she had to go to the bathroom, or just went, she would strip naked. It was like living with a midgit nudist. Funny as all hell, but inappropriate.
When she starts taking her diaper off, that's our que to grab the pink "big girl potty" and try to get her to use it. No success. One night she farted in it. We laughed and applauded. She got so excited, she stood up and took a dump on our living room carpet. Last night, right before bed time, she was sitting on her potty and proceeded to stand up, walk over to the borrowed copy of "Where the Wild Things Are" (See post 'Where The Wild Things Are' dated 10/6/2009)....yes that one, squat and piss ON a "Wild Thing". I now have to call the library to see what the process is to purchase a urinated on children's book.
That brings us to today. I am in the kitchen. My wife is with the baby in Lennon's room. Jessi starts screaming, "Adam, bring M&Ms!!!" I yell back, "What?! We don't have any. What the hell for?"
"Come here".
I ran into Lennon's room and there stood my daughter pointing at a small puddle of orange liquid in a pink plastic bowl. It was one of the proudest moments of my life. I didn't have any M&Ms to give her, but we did have quite a few hugs and high fives. Way to go big girl.
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