Thursday, October 15, 2009
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.
National Equality March Draws 500,000
They were told that their presence would be a waste of time. Even Barney Frank, an openly gay Congressman, and perhaps the biggest ally the LGBT community have in Washington, told them to stay home. He said their energy would be better spent lobbying their elected officials rather than standing in Washington D.C.
They came anyway. By the tens, and hundreds of thousands.
Now, especially now, the message needed to be sent to the rest of America: "We're here. We're queer. Get used to it." The religious and conservative right have been treating the LGBT community like a disease in recent years, with bigotry and hatred and fear not seen since the initial outbreak of the AIDS virus. Pushing lies in the media, making them out to be adulterers, pedophiles, and much worse.
A picture is worth a thousand words. A video is worth so much more. When the videos from today's events start pouring in on the various news organizations, on Youtube, and in emails, I really hope something amazing happens. I hope people see the old men and women holding hands. The couples that have been together since the 40s but have just now been in an environment where they could make their relationship public. I hope they see the children...the families...how many HAPPY, NORMAL families are parented by same sex mommies and daddies. And, I hope they see the love. This isn't about pleasure. It's about love. For god's sake, they just want to love each other and be able to express it in the same way you and I do. What's the big deal.
Frankly (no pun intended), I disagree with Mr. Frank. Although today's march may not directly make a change in Washington, it will call attention to an issue. Martin Luther King Jr. had people gather at that very same location almost 45 years ago, for the very same reason, equal rights. He knew that standing there that day wouldn't change a thing, but the world would take notice. And they did. So, again today, the world will take notice. And, if history repeats itself, like it so often does, change will be made.
They came anyway. By the tens, and hundreds of thousands.
Now, especially now, the message needed to be sent to the rest of America: "We're here. We're queer. Get used to it." The religious and conservative right have been treating the LGBT community like a disease in recent years, with bigotry and hatred and fear not seen since the initial outbreak of the AIDS virus. Pushing lies in the media, making them out to be adulterers, pedophiles, and much worse.
A picture is worth a thousand words. A video is worth so much more. When the videos from today's events start pouring in on the various news organizations, on Youtube, and in emails, I really hope something amazing happens. I hope people see the old men and women holding hands. The couples that have been together since the 40s but have just now been in an environment where they could make their relationship public. I hope they see the children...the families...how many HAPPY, NORMAL families are parented by same sex mommies and daddies. And, I hope they see the love. This isn't about pleasure. It's about love. For god's sake, they just want to love each other and be able to express it in the same way you and I do. What's the big deal.
Frankly (no pun intended), I disagree with Mr. Frank. Although today's march may not directly make a change in Washington, it will call attention to an issue. Martin Luther King Jr. had people gather at that very same location almost 45 years ago, for the very same reason, equal rights. He knew that standing there that day wouldn't change a thing, but the world would take notice. And they did. So, again today, the world will take notice. And, if history repeats itself, like it so often does, change will be made.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
My Brain Is All Fucked Up
Somewhere in the last 6-9 months, something has happened to my brain. When I write something down or type something out, I am able to articulate my thoughts without having a second thought. But when I am speaking, there is something missing when it comes to the wiring between my brain and my mouth.
I have started stuttering. Stuttering badly. To the point where I have to stop what I'm saying, close my eyes, take a number of deep breaths, and start over again. I have never stuttered in my life. I also have a problem associating the correct word with an object or thing...example:
I have been using the words "Green Day", instead of "Craigslist". Last night I was trying to say "Crock Pot", and I was saying "Velveeta" and "Cube Steak". Today I was trying to say "Lantern" and was saying "Canteen". This happens over a dozen times a day. Luckily, my wife knows me well enough to have an idea of what I am talking about most of the time. And, she's so nice, she'll answer my question, or continue the conversation as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, in the "outside world", I don't think I could be so lucky.
I can imagine it now. "Ma'am, I'm looking at your squirrel monkey (billing statement) and I see that your bill is overweight (past due) 127 doll parts (dollars)". Wouldn't exactly be able to hold down a job. And that's why I am here. My psych says it could be the PTSD or symptoms of the Tourette's. My neurologist says it could be my Tourette's meds telling me that I am not taking enough meds, or that my body isn't used to the medication yet, or that I am dehydrated. And my therapist says it could be all of the above. So who the hell knows. All I know is that it's frustrating as all hell. I feel like an idiot. I can't even get a simple sentence out most days.
I was a customer service representative or a tech support rep over the phone for 17 years, and I was damn good. I could solve any problem or fix any product, and now I feel like I'm starting over. And I have no idea what the hell I can do. It just amazes me how the brain works. How trauma can rewire it. It can be a very complex, yet a very simple organ. It doesn't take much to shake it up and switch things around. Wonder how long it will take to wire it back to the way it was before.
I have started stuttering. Stuttering badly. To the point where I have to stop what I'm saying, close my eyes, take a number of deep breaths, and start over again. I have never stuttered in my life. I also have a problem associating the correct word with an object or thing...example:
I have been using the words "Green Day", instead of "Craigslist". Last night I was trying to say "Crock Pot", and I was saying "Velveeta" and "Cube Steak". Today I was trying to say "Lantern" and was saying "Canteen". This happens over a dozen times a day. Luckily, my wife knows me well enough to have an idea of what I am talking about most of the time. And, she's so nice, she'll answer my question, or continue the conversation as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, in the "outside world", I don't think I could be so lucky.
I can imagine it now. "Ma'am, I'm looking at your squirrel monkey (billing statement) and I see that your bill is overweight (past due) 127 doll parts (dollars)". Wouldn't exactly be able to hold down a job. And that's why I am here. My psych says it could be the PTSD or symptoms of the Tourette's. My neurologist says it could be my Tourette's meds telling me that I am not taking enough meds, or that my body isn't used to the medication yet, or that I am dehydrated. And my therapist says it could be all of the above. So who the hell knows. All I know is that it's frustrating as all hell. I feel like an idiot. I can't even get a simple sentence out most days.
I was a customer service representative or a tech support rep over the phone for 17 years, and I was damn good. I could solve any problem or fix any product, and now I feel like I'm starting over. And I have no idea what the hell I can do. It just amazes me how the brain works. How trauma can rewire it. It can be a very complex, yet a very simple organ. It doesn't take much to shake it up and switch things around. Wonder how long it will take to wire it back to the way it was before.
Punk Rock Changed My Life
As someone who grew up as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, I grew up in a very isolated and controlled environment when it came to music. Many songs, artists, and even entire genres were banned from the house without reason. My musical education did not come until long into my early twenties.
As a teen, I became a member of the Columbia House/"12 for a penny" record clubs. If I was expecting a shipment, let's just say hopefully I would make it home before the package did. If the artist was anything other than Michael Bolton or Kenny G, it was immediately considered contraband. Strange sounding band names (Toad the Wet Sprocket, Depeche Mode), immediately confiscated, lyrics reviewed for content, and shredded if there was so much as one word my mother disapproved of. Gay artist? (Elton John, Pet Shop Boys, Erasure, George Michael), immediately destroyed. My mom believed that their "gay influence" could turn me gay, which I thought was funny. Especially in the case of Elton John. Bernie Taupin, a straight man, wrote all of his lyrics. Elton only wrote the music. So, with that logic, the right set of chords should have me sucking dicks I guess. Hip Hop, Rap, most R&B, most Rock (especially Hard Rock), and Punk...without question Punk, were banned like pornography from my house growing up.....not because the content....but because "they sounded" like they were no good for me.
During my senior year of high school, a kid in one of my business classes regularly wore a Bad Religion t-shirt. It was just the one with their standard, slash across the Christian cross logo. I had no idea who Bad Religion was. I thought he was an atheist. It wasn't until the next summer that I got my first taste of that band.
By the summer of 1994, the world had fallen in love with Green Day. And, although they, along with MTV, was banned from the house, I had heard them enough on radio to get an idea of what the 1994 version of "punk" was. It was fast. It was catchy. But it didn't have anything meaningful behind it. It was about smoking pot and masturbation. Then, the same summer, Bad Religion released '21st Century Digital Boy'. It was the most intelligent song I had heard in my life up until that point. And with my very short exposure with the punk genre, I realized, this was true punk. Green Day was "pop-punk".
Bad religion....21st century digital boy
endika|MySpace Videos
This song opened my sheltered eyes. 1996 comes along. By this time, I am no longer living with the book burners, and I happen across another Bad Religion song: 'Come Join Us'. The band claims it's about anti-conformity, but even around Witness circles, it's believed to be an anti-Jehovah's Witness song. Rumor is that the lead singer was raised as a JW as a child and wrote the song based upon his experiences. I have heard him in interviews discussing the song. He will not say it outright, but he definitely does not paint the Witnesses in a very good light based upon his experiences. The song moves pretty fast, and it is quite witty, so I am also posting lyrics:
so you say you gotta know why the world goes 'round
and you can't find the truth in the things you've found
and you're scared shitless 'cause evil abounds
come join us
well I heard you were looking for a place to fit in
full of adherent people with the same objective
a family to cling to and call brethren
come and join us
all we want to do is change your mind
all you need to do is close your eyes
come join us
come join us
come join us
don't you see all the trouble that most people are in
and that they just want you for their own advantage
but I swear to you we're different from all of them
come join us
I can tell you are lookin' for a way to live
where truth is determined by consensus
full of codified arbitrary directives
come join us
all we want to have is your small mind
turn it into one of our kind
you can go through life adrift and alone
desperate, desolate, on your own
but we're lookin' for a few more stalwart clones
come join us
come join us
come join us
we've got spite and dedication as a vehement brew
the world hates us, well we hate them too
but you're exempted of course if you
come join us
independent, self-contented, revolutionary
intellectual, brave, strong and scholarly
if you're not one of them, you're us already so
come join us
come join us
come join us
come join us
come join us
Again, when I first heard it, it amazed me the vocabulary that came through in the song. Sadly, I had to look up some of the words, with my public school education. I later found out that, Greg Graffin, Bad Religion's lead singer, has a masters in geology and a Ph.D. in zoology from Cornell University. When he isn't recording or touring with the band, he is lecturing and teaching life sciences and paleontology at UCLA. We're not talking about you're average musicians.
Until Bad Religion, I had no idea who the Ramones were, or the Sex Pistols, or Elvis Costello, Social Distortion or Iggy Pop. I didn't know any of the newer bands like NOFX, Pennywise, Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys. Hell, all my dad listened to was country, and I wasn't as familiar with Johnny Cash like I am now.
I'm not saying I'm a punk now by any means. I'm a poser most days. I still listen to the 'Garden State' Soundtrack and wear my Beatles t-shirt. But punk music opened my eyes. It got me thinking. If it wasn't for those right songs at the right time in my life, I probably wouldn't have gauged my ears, or have gotten my lip pierced. I wouldn't have had the courage to say "Fuck it", and give myself a cobalt blue mohawk at the age of 32. Punk gave me the courage to piss people off, to live life on my terms, to be the person I wanted to be. So I may not be 100% punk, but I have just enough in me to get by.
As a teen, I became a member of the Columbia House/"12 for a penny" record clubs. If I was expecting a shipment, let's just say hopefully I would make it home before the package did. If the artist was anything other than Michael Bolton or Kenny G, it was immediately considered contraband. Strange sounding band names (Toad the Wet Sprocket, Depeche Mode), immediately confiscated, lyrics reviewed for content, and shredded if there was so much as one word my mother disapproved of. Gay artist? (Elton John, Pet Shop Boys, Erasure, George Michael), immediately destroyed. My mom believed that their "gay influence" could turn me gay, which I thought was funny. Especially in the case of Elton John. Bernie Taupin, a straight man, wrote all of his lyrics. Elton only wrote the music. So, with that logic, the right set of chords should have me sucking dicks I guess. Hip Hop, Rap, most R&B, most Rock (especially Hard Rock), and Punk...without question Punk, were banned like pornography from my house growing up.....not because the content....but because "they sounded" like they were no good for me.
During my senior year of high school, a kid in one of my business classes regularly wore a Bad Religion t-shirt. It was just the one with their standard, slash across the Christian cross logo. I had no idea who Bad Religion was. I thought he was an atheist. It wasn't until the next summer that I got my first taste of that band.
By the summer of 1994, the world had fallen in love with Green Day. And, although they, along with MTV, was banned from the house, I had heard them enough on radio to get an idea of what the 1994 version of "punk" was. It was fast. It was catchy. But it didn't have anything meaningful behind it. It was about smoking pot and masturbation. Then, the same summer, Bad Religion released '21st Century Digital Boy'. It was the most intelligent song I had heard in my life up until that point. And with my very short exposure with the punk genre, I realized, this was true punk. Green Day was "pop-punk".
Bad religion....21st century digital boy
endika|MySpace Videos
This song opened my sheltered eyes. 1996 comes along. By this time, I am no longer living with the book burners, and I happen across another Bad Religion song: 'Come Join Us'. The band claims it's about anti-conformity, but even around Witness circles, it's believed to be an anti-Jehovah's Witness song. Rumor is that the lead singer was raised as a JW as a child and wrote the song based upon his experiences. I have heard him in interviews discussing the song. He will not say it outright, but he definitely does not paint the Witnesses in a very good light based upon his experiences. The song moves pretty fast, and it is quite witty, so I am also posting lyrics:
so you say you gotta know why the world goes 'round
and you can't find the truth in the things you've found
and you're scared shitless 'cause evil abounds
come join us
well I heard you were looking for a place to fit in
full of adherent people with the same objective
a family to cling to and call brethren
come and join us
all we want to do is change your mind
all you need to do is close your eyes
come join us
come join us
come join us
don't you see all the trouble that most people are in
and that they just want you for their own advantage
but I swear to you we're different from all of them
come join us
I can tell you are lookin' for a way to live
where truth is determined by consensus
full of codified arbitrary directives
come join us
all we want to have is your small mind
turn it into one of our kind
you can go through life adrift and alone
desperate, desolate, on your own
but we're lookin' for a few more stalwart clones
come join us
come join us
come join us
we've got spite and dedication as a vehement brew
the world hates us, well we hate them too
but you're exempted of course if you
come join us
independent, self-contented, revolutionary
intellectual, brave, strong and scholarly
if you're not one of them, you're us already so
come join us
come join us
come join us
come join us
come join us
Again, when I first heard it, it amazed me the vocabulary that came through in the song. Sadly, I had to look up some of the words, with my public school education. I later found out that, Greg Graffin, Bad Religion's lead singer, has a masters in geology and a Ph.D. in zoology from Cornell University. When he isn't recording or touring with the band, he is lecturing and teaching life sciences and paleontology at UCLA. We're not talking about you're average musicians.
Until Bad Religion, I had no idea who the Ramones were, or the Sex Pistols, or Elvis Costello, Social Distortion or Iggy Pop. I didn't know any of the newer bands like NOFX, Pennywise, Flogging Molly and Dropkick Murphys. Hell, all my dad listened to was country, and I wasn't as familiar with Johnny Cash like I am now.
I'm not saying I'm a punk now by any means. I'm a poser most days. I still listen to the 'Garden State' Soundtrack and wear my Beatles t-shirt. But punk music opened my eyes. It got me thinking. If it wasn't for those right songs at the right time in my life, I probably wouldn't have gauged my ears, or have gotten my lip pierced. I wouldn't have had the courage to say "Fuck it", and give myself a cobalt blue mohawk at the age of 32. Punk gave me the courage to piss people off, to live life on my terms, to be the person I wanted to be. So I may not be 100% punk, but I have just enough in me to get by.
Friday, October 9, 2009
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.
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.
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