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This post, much like the drawing, will be somewhat disjointed. No, it won't be about kitties and Spider-Man, but there seems to be no thread to tie any of the thoughts of mine together tonight. I've been feeling like that a lot lately too, it seems. I'm blown away that this month is already over. Wasn't it just yesterday that I was getting all revved up for my trip to San Diego? It's hard to believe that was over two weeks ago. My next big push will be Dirk and Julie's wedding, which is this weekend. There's a part of me trying to conserve energy for that thing now, because I know it's going to be something else. I've stood up in many weddings before, and know that once the tux is rented, the rehearsal is done, and the day goes off on it's own, that it will be a blast. I may complain about standing up in both of these weddings this summer, but I know just how much fun they both will be as well. It's been a full summer! I just got back from a crew appreciation corn roast thrown by the Yacht Club. Tomorrow night is our last night of sailing. To me, that signifies the end of the summer. I'm sad that it has to end, but it will be nice to free up one night of my week. I still can't believe fall is almost here. The big news for me today, though, that launches me high into geek, practically spastic, mode, was the announcement by Apple with the introduction of their new G5 iMac. I've been saving up all year, racking my brain trying to figure out which computer I want to purchase. Well, with the release of this computer, I've decided that this will be the one for me. I'm going all out and buying the one with the 20" display, probably ramping the hard drive up to 250 GB. Wireless mouse and keyboard. Blue tooth. Airport card. And a shitload of RAM. Check out the new design. Yeah, it's all monitor. The computer is actually in the flat panel display. I think this is the coolest computer I've ever seen. Now the question is, is there money in the budget for a "cheap" iBook as well? I'd love to be able to go portable too. Network the house. How cool would it be to blog from my couch? Once I'm done with these/this computer purchase(s), saving up for a down payment for a house will be my next big goal. I hope to have a few better thought-out posts in the near future. But tonight, I'm trying to finish this post before one of my stupid shows of the summer, Nip/Tuck, begins. Yeah, I'm totally addicted and feel dirty every time I watch that romp! My other dirty habit, which I vowed never to watch again, is Big Brother 5. Hey, it' s been a rough summer. A cruel, cruel summer. Later. |
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Monday's Playist: 1. U2 - Achtung Baby 2. Moulin Rouge vol. 2 |
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Today's
Focus |
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I question why more people don't do the same. In these extremely divided political times, I'm surprised that people aren't getting more introspective in their lives. Why aren't more people questioning their basic, fundamental beliefs instead of believing every little factoid and sound byte that's been spoon-feed to them? Instead, at this very important time in the history of our country, people are coasting by more now than ever. I've never seen so many people so full of lassitude and apathy. If you don't believe me, go to your local mall someday and just watch people. Worse yet, go to your local Walmart. All I can really talk about, though, is me and my journey. That's all I really know for sure to be true. Every time I sit in front of a blank piece of paper or the cool blue glow of a naked computer screen, realizing that it's just me and and my muse for the foreseeable future, I'm moved in a very profound way. Drawing and writing for me has always been an extremely personal thing. After all, it's something that comes from inside of me, comes out of me. It's a bi-product of who I am. It's the conglomeration of who I am, who I was, who I will be. It's the result of nature vs. nurture, the epitome of society vs. spirituality, and humanity vs. the divine. It's truly an amazing thing. I wonder if musicians and singers feel the same way. When I draw, especially in a group setting, it's interesting how much I learn about myself and the many strong emotions I feel, all during the creative process. I'm coming to understand that I have an extreme jealous streak. I'm learning how I deal with stress, and how to deal with it. I'm also learning to understand and go with my intuition. To be proud of myself. To be bold. I'm being to realize how, at times, I'm full of self-loathing, crucifying myself everyday. I'm awakening to the fact that it has to stop. I understand that I have a gift, that I'm able to connect with things and people because of my talent. I see things, events, and people differently through the eyes of an artist. I'm learning to connect with the divine, whatever that may be. I'm finding my center. Finding my calm. Things are taking on a greater meaning these days. I'm no longer just casually taking part in my world. I no longer feel numb to it. The world has meaning again. Life has meaning. All of these thoughts and feelings have stemmed from hours of contemplation when grinding a pencil to a piece of paper or purging out my most intimate thoughts into a series of letters, syllables, words, and paragraphs. This website, and the countless hours of examining my daily life and thoughts, have all added to this evolution of who I am. It's all part of me striving to be a better human being. I have no regrets about the amount of time or energy that I've spent coming to these conclusions through my art and writing. There was actually a time in my life, a Jurassic period of my life, where time and energy were my excuse to not accept the full potential of my creativity. I don't think I've even reached the tip of that iceberg, but now at least I try. My friend Brandon found this quote for me, inside one of my U2 DVDs. It's from Bono, the lead singer, who I never seem to get tired of quoting: "If somebody is coughing up their real experiences in order to make sense of them, then that's an amazing thing." That's what my life has been about the past 16 months. How cool is that? That's all for now, just waxing poetic on the first Friday night in ages that I've had to myself. |
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What the hell? Sailing is a summer activity. And I see this shit? Part of me won't accept that fall is knocking on our door. The kids are going back to school. In my mind, summer hasn't begun. The weather around here hasn't been very summer-like at all this season. There were maybe only five or six days all summer, where things were uncomfortable and I wished I'd installed my A/C unit. But I didn't, and there's no reason to any more. When I look back at the summer of 2004, I realize how completely full it really was, probably my fullest summer to date. But yet, that doesn't seem to be enough. Even though I absolutely love fall, there's always that tinge of sadness with the passing of the seasons. A reminder of how quickly life is zooming by. That's all for now. Wednesday's Playist: 1. U2 - 7 2. U2 - October 3. Fiona Apple - Tidal 2. R.E.M. - Automatic For The People |
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Well, I live about 20 minutes south of Green Bay and am a resident of Brown County, the same county our beloved Packers reside in. When the Packers started renovating Lambeau Field a few years ago, the taxes in Brown County went up half of a percent to adjust for some of the cost. To slightly appease some of the tax payers and actually get the referendum passed, all members of Brown County are now eligible to purchase one set of four tickets per season, all on a lottery system. If your name is chosen, you send in a check for $200, saying that you want the tickets, but have no idea which game they are for. They could be for any of the pre- or regular season games. Well, this year, I got tickets for the October 24th, Green Bay/Dallas game, one of the most sought after game of the season. The Packers and the Cowboys have had a rivalry for years. I guess the tickets for that game were on eBay for over a thousand bucks. My family, of course, was jealous. My dad and brother would have done anything for those tickets. My brother-in-law warned me that if I sold the tickets, I'd be on everybody's shit list. To me, I considered those tickets as a way of getting that much closer to a new computer. I just don't care about football. In the end, though, I decided the game would be a good time. It's the hot ticket of the year and it will probably be a beautiful golden October Sunday afternoon. I decided to ask my friends Nate, Kim, and Todd to go to the game with me. I'm sure it would be a blast. Never, for a moment, did I consider asking my family to the game. In my mind, that would be no fun. When I made my decision, I never once felt like I was at all being selfish. After all, they're my tickets, fair and square. Well, this past Saturday night, my parents, sister, and brother-in-law had plans of going to the Saturday night pre-season game that my brother got through the Brown County raffle. They were all looking forward to it. They had a whole menu planned for tailgating and a babysitter lined up for the boys. Unfortunately, on Friday, Dad had another horrible day, full of excruciating pain (which seems to actually be getting worse lately) and depression. On Thursday, the Madison doctor called and told them that it would be at least a year wait before he could get into the pain clinic. These two things only spiraled him deeper into depression. He wanted nothing to do with anybody. He didn't even want to see my sister. According to my mom and sister, the weekend was pretty bad. Saturday night, my brother-in-law ended up going to the Packer game by himself. I try not to ponder too deeply on the fact that all of this was going on while I was living it up at my friend's bachelor party. I can't fall into that trap. I just can't. Anyway, last night I talked to Mom for quite some time and got the latest news on things that have been going on over the past week or so. With being out of town two weekends in a row, I've missed a lot of what's been going on lately. After talking to mom, I realized how badly everybody wanted to go to that game. I could tell how let down they all felt because Dad wasn't able go. I knew what I had to do. I had a short term solution to the problem sitting amongst some junk mail on my kitchen table. There was no way in hell that I'd be able to live with myself if I didn't take my dad to that Packers/Cowboys game in October. I called Todd and Nate, explaining the situation. They were both cool with things, both having the "easy-come-easy-go" attitude. I stopped by my parents' after work tonight to present Dad with the tickets. Lately, my communication with him seems to have just bottomed out. I can't make any type of connection anymore, at all. I don't know what to do. But tonight, when I gave him those tickets, the look on his face, once he realized what was going on, was priceless. I explained to him that I still wanted to go to the game, but I wanted him and Mom to come with me. It was awesome to watch Dad pep up as he did. He examined the tickets, like he was looking for a golden ticket to the chocolate factory. He asked me when the game was, where the seats were, etc. Never once, did he mention anything about not being to go. I saw a glimmer of optimism in his eyes. He got on the phone with my brother-in-law right away to find out where his seat was the other night. He acted like a proud peacock. I could tell I made his night. I bet we talked about those damn tickets for twenty minutes. After that, he asked me if I'd pick up the newspaper for him at the end of their long driveway. I told him I would, but that it would be a few minutes because I was going to check out a hole in the yard that his friend dug out last night. One of the projects that's been on hold this summer has been putting up a flagpole in the yard. Last night, his friend came over and decided to get this project rolling. As I went outside to check things out, he followed me, talking me ear off about the flagpole project and the landscaping that would have to take place. For just those few hours this evening after work, things were good again. I did good. My intentions weren't to be the hero of the family, one-up my sister who's been a complete godsend with all of her help with things, or try to get in the good graces of anybody. I just wanted to make some type of connection. I wanted to make him forget about his pain. Let it be known that I wanted to help and that I've been trying to help. I feel like I've been standing in the shadows, twiddling my thumbs, not being able to do anything or give any type of comfort while Dad is falling deeper and deeper into the shadows himself. But for a few hours tonight, I made the shadows go away. I made the ol' man happy. I made my Mom happy. I made my sister happy. She called Dad after supper, playing it up a bit, asking him how he rates, getting those primo tickets. Dad's response was: I guess I'm special. That made it all worth it. That's all for now. Tuesday's Playist: 1. U2 - Elevation Tour Live From Boston 2. U2 - Achtung Baby |
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Thursday night at art class, I had not idea how I was going to find the energy to draw. It was difficult last week, assimilating to a world where life consists of more than crude jokes, strip joints, and alcohol. I was worried that because of my lack of energy, my art was going to suffer. Part of me, though, also knew that I was returning to class with my proverbial tail between my legs. My friend Mara from my art class had fallen for my "going to L.A." practical joke the hardest. Even though I explained the entire thing to her on the phone, I still felt guilty facing her. In the end though, the class was amazing. The model was the most still I've ever seen a human being sit. We all had a good laugh about my joke. My art teacher chuckled to himself and reminded me that for some strange reason, people have an easier time accepting a lie than they do the truth at times. My drawing, meanwhile, really kicked some ass. The photo of it on the right doesn't do it justice. I know this sounds like I'm bragging, but I feel like with this drawing, I've pushed myself to another plateau. The class was amazingly intense, like the good ones always are, buzzing with creativity. Everyone did some wonderful work that night. During the final stages of my drawing, when I knew that it was going to be quite successful, I laughed to myself. There are times in my life, when the dichotomy of it feels so surreal. Exactly a week previous to reaching my new creative potential, I was at some seedy strip joint in San Diego. As I said last night, I'm amazed how I can go from one extreme to the next. My final night in San Diego, between beers and busting it on the dance floor, I managed to strike up a conversation with one of the guys on the trip, Matt. We ended up in an intense two- or three-hour conversation/debate about God, religion, spirituality, Buddha, the society of religion, mythology vs. deity, etc., etc. Some pretty deep stuff while walking the streets of San Diego with a few Coronas under my belt. But that's who I am. Isn't it? I explained to Matt my religious journey thus far, and how my art has added to the process. Somewhere during our discussion, he made the comment that he could tell that I'm a pretty deep person, one who cautiously wears his heart on his sleeve. I found the comment a bit odd, considering that I really didn't know this guy. It also felt extremely poignant to me. It was cool that over the course of the weekend, where the majority of the time was basically mindless fun (including a trip to Tijuana and, to our surprise, a brothel, no less!), that somehow, through a few of the things I said, my true colors bled through. I guess that happens when you wear your heart on your sleeve. This past weekend, I was chatting with another guy I "kind-of-sort" know, Scotty. He's the guy who lined up Dirk's bachelor party. Somehow or another a few of us got to pondering that if the bachelor party was turned into one of the American Pie movies, which of us would be which character. Immediately, Scotty said I would be Finch, the philosophical, smart, "sophisticated" one. I find comments about my "sophistication" (yeah, I'm using it in quotes twice), a bit much. Dirk's fiancee, Julie, commented once that between my sailing and my art classes, that I'm a pretty cultured guy. Those friends give me far too much credit. If you ask me, I'm a country mouse who would get stomped on with too much culture. The back of my neck can be pretty red at times. I have no idea which fork to use in a nice table setting and have only been out of the country once, twice if you count Tijuana. I think some of this all has to do with my surroundings. In Green Bay, the Packer capital of the world, I may seemed quite cultured. In San Diego, I felt like a little fish in a big pond. This perceived culture is me just trying to find interesting things to color my life. I asked Scotty why he thought of me as the Finch character, again, really not knowing me that well. He said that just by the things I say, and the conversations that I don't take part in, he could tell I was somebody who likes talking about politics and the world. And it's true. Later on in the night, we ended up having another Bush/Kerry debate (only agreeing that we agree on nothing). I never realized how obvious I was with those characteristics of myself. But when I think about it, I do put it out there, don't I? I mean, come on, this website? I'm not afraid to feel people out, and talk about some of the deeper things in life. When it comes to talking about sports or business, I have nothing to say. Get me talking about God or our place in the world or the universe, and I have all night. I'm never afraid to share my deeper feelings on subjects like that if somebody's willing to listen. I guess that's what it means to wear my heart on my sleeve. And with that, I'm going to sign off. There's much more to talk about. More about the bachelor party, more (not-so-good) developments with Dad. But that's enough for now. I need to try to compartmentalize some of these thoughts. Monday's Playist: 1. U2 - All That You Can't Leave Behind 2. Michael Jackson - Bad |
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Dirk's bachelor party last night was a tad less extravagant than the one in San Diego the previous week, but equally just as fun. Man, did I party my ass off. To be honest, it's been one of those weekends. On Thursday night, art class ended with another margarita night. It turned into one of those nights where the next thing I knew, it was 12:30 in the morning. I don't know why I do this to myself when I know I have to work the next day. But it was an awesome night regardless. It's amazing how deep, spiritual, and introspective my art can be, but how it often leads to pure fun and a few stiff drinks. Friday night, we had another work event, this time at a local ball park. I literally watched about five minutes of the game but partied it up with my co-workers instead. After the game, I ended up downtown, and eventually at a dance club. Another 2 a.m. night followed. I woke up yesterday at 8:30, showered the smoke and sweat from the club off of my exhausted body, and continued my way to a local resort with about about 15 other guys for Dirk's bachelor party, including Splash, Bart, Sven, and Scotty. We partied all day until early this morning. It was a great, great time with lots of little stories to tell. It seems like my days (and nights) of partying go in extreme spells. My liver and wallet haven't seen the bar scene this much since I was in my mid-20s. The picture in this post is from last weekend. It was my last night in San Diego. We were at a kickin' bar called Jimmy Loves which had an awesome band. We tore it up. I never made it to bed that night in able to had to catch our 6:30 a.m. flight the next day. It appeared to be a good idea at the time until I had to live with myself on a plane all day. Oh well. It's cool to me that I can get into the partying groove every once in awhile. I'm amazed at how easily I'm able to switch gears from being the deep, quiet, philisophical guy learning about Buddhism, to the wisecracking guy with a good sense of humor sweating it out on the dance floor drinking Guinness like it's water. I perceive myself as a relatively quiet, introspective guy, but I obviously have a very social side that needs to see the light of day (or darkness of a good pub) every so often as well. I'm glad I'm able to genuinely have a good time with things and party my ass off while other times being smart, deep, philosophical, spiritual, and political. I eat that up alive as well. I'm not sure how I'm able to turn on the switch so easily sometimes. I'm just happy I'm able to do it. At times, it's good to be able to cast my problems aside, in favor of lighter thoughts and feelings. There's much I want to document about the past week. Hopefully, I'll have a little more free time for a few weeks, anyway, and be able to get back on a more of a schedule. I've taken a considerable break from this site over the past week, literally not able to get to it. It was a nice break from things but I need to revisit that side of me again too. That's all for now. |
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Clouded
Vision I'll be leaving for art class shortly. It will be nice to give my muse a workout, snap it back into shape. I'm not sure where I'll find the energy, but I am craving the workout. I'm looking forward to getting back to this website, too. It feels like there's so much I want to add to these pages, talk about, and explore. I have much I want to post about the abduction and the party which followed, as well as many other things. I know the past few weeks have pretty full, so I'm easing off on certain things a bit, conserving energy when and where I can, and trying to force myself to not get too stressed about anything. Getting over the San Diego trip with its many little details was a big hurdle, but of course, now I'm a bit bummed out that it's all over. There's much more that this summer still has left to offer though! That's all for now. Thursday's Playist: 1. Maroon 5 - Songs About Jane 2. Five For Fighting - The Fight For Everything 3. Hothouse Flowers - Songs From The Rain |
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Okay. First thing's first. My previous post was a complete, elaborate, practical joke that somehow spiraled out of control.
A group of 12 of us flew to San Diego for my friend Jim's bachelor party. The party was top secret, as the groom-to-be had no idea that he was going on vacation, much less to San Diego. About four of us abducted Jim the morning of the trip in Madison, Wisconsin, with the help of his fiancee, who cleared his vacation for him. There were many people in on this joke. We kidnapped the poor guy in Madison, embarrassed him in various ways throughout the city, and then headed to the airport for San Diego. The group that I went with had been doing this type of bachelor party/abduction for the past 10 years. Jim is the last guy in that group to get married (I'm on the outside of the group, this being my first bachelor party with these guys), so we had to go out with a bang. I will go into details about the abduction in another post. But bottom line, I made a point to never say a thing about the party on this site, with the hopes to keep the abduction a complete secret.
I figured writing a fake post, which doubled as a way to tell the viewers that I'd be away for awhile, was a funny idea. I told a few coworkers about it and asked them to chime in on my discussion board to get the ball rolling. That's where things got out of my hands and out of hand. When I got to San Diego, around 7:00 Thursday night, I checked my voice mail on my cell phone. My friend Splash, who knew what was going on, left a message. He told me that his ex-girlfriend checked out my site and fell for it (and she knows me in real life). He told me a lot of shit was going down on the discussion board and this thing had taken on a life of its own. Being on vacation, of course, I had no access to the internet. I had no idea what to expect. I never thought that my co-workers would take it to the level that they did. I have to admit, they added a level of pure genius to it. One of them warned me when I got back, "Don't fuck with people who can fuck with you back." Boy, was he right.
Later that day, even my friend Jason, who also happens to be my boss, did a fake post. He played out the part of how hurt he was at first, but had to understand the situation. It was brilliantly executed. My co-workers thought of everything, and added an entirely new dimension to my little joke that I never would have thought of in a million years. The posts on my discussion board were enough to make my friend Mark from my art class (a different Mark) fall for the scam. He shared the news with my friend Mara and an entire class of people at a painting class on Saturday morning. Many of those people know of me, and were quite excited about my fake good news. Finally, a fellow artist makes it big. I didn't think Mark ever read my site. Had I known he did, I would have given him a heads up. Mara thought is was real too, and was actually quite upset about the idea of me leaving and not saying goodbye (that's the one that bothers me the most). My friend Gordon at work fell for it too. After talking to him today, I could tell he was actually bothered that I would leave without saying goodbye. While all of this drama was going on, of course, I was laying on a beach in San Diego drinking beer and looking at girls in bikinis. When I wrote the fake post, I did tap into the feelings I'd been having about leaving my family behind for the weekend while everything else was going on at home. I'd been less than excited about going on the trip because of Dad's sickness. The post was partially just my way of working though some of those feelings. When I was done writing what I did, I actually questioned if what I did was funny at all. When I re-read my own post, it made me feel sad inside. It was a weird thing, almost like reading or writing my own eulogy or something. By that point, though, it was too late. I thought, "What the hell?!" When I got home from my trip Sunday night, after never sleeping the night before at all, all I wanted to do was just go to bed. But when I first checked my email, and then saw all of the activity that had gone on on my discussion board, I just couldn't believe how this thing spiraled out of control, and how many people actually do check out my site. A number of my regular readers fell for the joke and sent many wonderful prayers and wishes my way. At that point I really started questioning my choice. I felt and feel guilty for fooling close friends, in the outside world and those made on the internet. I hope everybody can find some humor in this practical joke. It is actually quite funny, when I think of how elaborate my co-workers followed my lead and ran away with it. I never questioned the consequences. I never imaged how many people I must actually touch. With great power comes great responsibility? I remember on April fools day this year, two bloggers who I used to read, Moxie and Tony Pierce, pulled a practical joke on their sites. They must have met in real life and tried to fool their readers into believing that they got married. Moxie's an uber-Republican, and Tony's quite liberal, so it was actually a funny joke. One that had people scratching their heads for quite some time. That stuck with me. I always thought it would be funny to something like that as well. With all the bachelor party shenanigans underway and this awesome separated-at-birth photo at my disposal, I figured the timing was right. It had to be. I figured anybody who knew me in the real world would be able to tell that the picture wasn't me. Apparently, it even fooled some of my closest friends. I figured my loyal readers would have remembered that March post. So... The damage is done. I figured that all of the talk when I got back would have been about my awesome time in San Diego and eventually Tijiuana. In the end, in a lot of ways, this whole website fiasco overshadowed the bachelor party (at least on my return to work it did). When all was said and done, my co-workers got me as good, if not better, as I got my readers. I had as much pie on my face as anybody. When I got to work yesterday morning, I was quite bothered by the image of all of my belongings packed up in a box. I actually questioned if I had a job to show up to yesterday morning. I was beginning to believe the very lie that I'd created. I will talk about the bachelor party and my vacation (well at least some of it) in detail some other night. Tonight, I just wanted to clear the air and do as much damage control as I could. Despite how this spiraled out of control, I still think it's funny, but would question ever pulling such a stunt again. I feel horrible about my close friends who I unintentional upset. That's the real kicker in all of this. I hope they have it in their heart to forgive me and understand my occasionally warped sense of humor. Tony Pierce has a disclaimer on his site warning people that "Nothing on this site is real." I don't want that disclaimer on this site. That's not what it's about. This site is about the truth. And the truth is, in the spirit of the weekend's bachelor party, a guy's got to have a little fun once awhile too. It did feel good to leave my problems behind if not for only an extended weekend. More later. Tuesday's Playist: 1. Justin Timberlake - Justified 2. Crowded House - Together Alone 3. The Black Eyed Peas - Elephunk 4. Maroon 5 - Songs About Jane |
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To keep a long story short, that I will indeed flesh out in a later post, our initial meeting really clicked, but then I heard nothing from her. Until late last week. She wants me to come out to L.A., for at least six weeks, to work on this animation project. I'd be one of the main character designers. Despite my lack of experience with the actual world of animation, she dug my cartoony style, especially the quick sketch I did of her on the spot in the studio, but as a little tomboy. This is my big chance; I have to take it. How much better could it get? So tomorrow, I leave for L.A. for at least six weeks, but probably much longer. I broke the news to my family over the weekend. Today I gave my notice at work. Neither was pleasant to say the least. I'm dying inside, with everything I'm leaving behind. But I know I have to do this; I know that my life's been leading up to this. I've left them in a world of hurt at work, but I can't think about that right now. They'd never think twice doing the same thing to me if they had to. That's business, right? My family is obviously upset. They need me more than ever now. The timing is horrible. But when will it ever be good? I feel like a fuckin' selfish heel doing this right now. But I have to do this for myself. I have to. My parent's don't understand why I'm doing this. They don't undersatnd how huge this is. They need me now more than ever. But I have to get away. I can't have the weight of this family on my back for the rest of my life. I can't. I need to start living my life. This is the first selfish move I've made in my life; how many opportunities like this have I already passed by? This all came up so fast. I never said anything to anybody, not wanting to jinx things. I'm such an open person, it was killing me inside, keeping this all private. Knowing that many of the goodbyes I've said to people will probably be the real thing, not just "see you later." Saying goodbye to my friends at work, leaving behind 10 years of service just killed me. Many of my closest circle of friends have no idea this is going on. I'm afraid that if I told them while I was here, they'd talk me out of it. I suddenly feel a weird obligation to them as well. Well, what about me? What aobut my dreams? Nobody waits around for me. Fuck, I hope I made the right choice. I babysat my nephews yesterday, while my family took Dad to the hospital. That was the hardest thing of all. I tried to explain to them what's going on, but they're too young to comprehend. I've never cried so hard in my entire life. This is the hardest choice I've ever had to make. If I think about it too hard, I want to vomit. So tonight I'm packing up a few of my things that I'll need for the next week or so. Then, I've got some movers lined up to get the rest of my belongings together to ship westward. I've never so blindly made one choice while walking away from another. So bare with my the next few weeks as I get things in order. This website will be on a short hiatus while I get the next phase of my life in order. Is it so wrong that part of me is excited to start over? I need to do this for me. Talk to you from L.A. Wednesday's Playist: 1. Dixie Chicks - Home 2. Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road 3. U2 - All That You Can't Leave Behind 4. Celine Dion - A New Day Has Come |
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Square
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In talking to her, I could tell that she really wanted to be the one to go along. This way, she can ask certain questions, get the information from the horse's mouth, and get the results as soon as possible. In situations like this, my sister's much better support for my dad. She's somehow able to get through to him in ways I'll never figure out. And to be honest, I'm no fan of hospitals (who is?), and figured that if my spending a day babysitting my nephews was a way to help the family, then that's what I'd do to do my part. I've been pretty bummed out the past few days. Last night, I slept like shit. I just keep thinking about this. Yesterday over at Mom and Dad's, Dad barely said a word. He just sat there. It's so hard to see. So fucking hard. The past few days I've felt quite sad and very scared. What if this next batch of tests doesn't find anything new? What if we're back to square one?? I don't know how long he can live like this. I don't know how long we can live like this. I know this new doctor is very good and extremely willing to work through this. The past couple of weeks have just been a holding pattern, I suppose, limbo. We're all at our wits end. It hurts when I go home these days and the old behavior is there again. The silence. The one-word answers. The struggle to have any type of conversation. I do all of the talking, ask all of the questions. I'll go over there, excited with something to tell Dad, and it's as if he barely hears me, or as if I'm just getting in the way of his NASCAR or Judge fuckin' Judy. It's so frustrating. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to be there. I don't know how to help if he won't let me in. So tonight, I write this feeling sad and pretty damn scared again. I can only pray that tomorrow will be a good day, full of hope. But for now, I'm through with setting my hopes up too high. It's exhausting and I'm tired. It hurts too bad. Tonight, my head and heart are full of prayers, trying to mask the desperation and pain. That's all for now. Monday's Playist: 1. Tracy Chapman - Telling Stories 2. Dido - Life For Rent 3. Mariah Carey - Greatest Hits |
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My mom did what she could to alleviate my discomfort. She ran me hot baths with baking powder in it. She would freshen up the living room, which had become my sanctuary, every few days. To this day, there's something oddly soothing to me about the scent of Lemon Pledge and Windex. But the one thing that stands out in my mind more than anything, was when she called me from Shopko. "I was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up some music for your tape recorder to listen to. Would that help you feel better?" At this point in my life, I didn't own a single tape or album. "Is there anything that you'd like me to buy for you?" "Yeah. There's this tape that Sharon (my aunt) has. It's got a black guy in the cover wearing a white suit holding a tiger. Michael somebody...All the kids at school are talking about it; I guess he's pretty cool." An hour later, Mom arrived with Thriller, by Michael Jackson. It was one of those turning points in life, where, looking back, things have never been the same. Since that day, I've been a huge Michael Jackson fan. That's all I ever listened to growing up. Thriller was my first tape. A Motown compilation with the Jackson 5 was my second. Victory, the new album by Michael and his brothers, soon followed. I remember my brother and sister being so sick of Michael Jackson; they could barely handle it. Once the Thriller craze seemed to pass, I still clung on. I would await his music videos or new albums as if they were the most important events in the world. Gosh, do I remember the butterflies I had in my stomach before the network premiere of Bad or the rush I got when his new Pepsi commercials aired. I had a life-sized poster, books, and did many drawings of him. As the 80s progressed, and he got more bizarre, it only fueled my fire. In my mind, he was the best singer, best dancer, and best performer that ever walked the earth. The fact that his skin was getting lighter, his nose kept getting smaller, and he looked increasingly like a woman, didn't matter to me. In my mind, the guy was a musical genius. I had to be the biggest Michael Jackson fan in the world. By 1993, when the first child molestation charges surfaced, I remember feeling as though somebody punched me in the stomach. A piece of me, a piece of my youth, died when those allegation surfaced. From that point on, I never knew what to believe. Through it all though, through all of the rubble, the madness, and controversy, there was always, most importantly, his music. That's the only way I could make any sense of it. As the 90s rolled on, though, his career was suddenly less and less about the music. The marriage to Lisa Marie Presley, the second marriage and babies from his dermatologist, endless lawsuits, court hearings, cancellations, and another baby from a surrogate all became what Michael Jackson was about. As this was all going on, his appearance became even more strange looking. He completely lost touch with reality. Somewhere along the way, Michael Jackson's music became a footnote as he became a punchline. It was getting hard for me to grasp onto this fallen star. How, when, and why did it all go so wrong? For Michael Jackson, the 2000s, which actually kicked off on a positive note with a successful reunion special with his brothers, have turned into nothing but a sad story, filled only with dangerous controversy and utter madness. First, he dangled his kid Blanket over the balcony. I didn't think it could get any worse than that. But then, a few months later, the Martin Bashir documentary Living With Michael Jackson, only painted a darker, chilling picture of this bizarre man. It seemed to be the nail that closed the coffin on a career that had less life in it than the tip of his nose. Watching Michael Jackson, by this point looking more like a geisha girl than an adult man, holding hands with a 12-year old boy, saying that there's nothing more beautiful than sharing your bed with young children, gave me that sinking feeling of dread once more. Come on, Mike! Had he learned nothing from the previous allegations almost a decade earlier? That documentary is what led to the current batch of allegations which will go to trial in January of 2005. MJ is in some serious deep shit. I honestly think this will be the end of it for him. If he's convicted of these crimes, either he'll off himself or they do it for him in prison. Michael Jackson's life has become nothing but a pathetic media circus, all by his own doing. There was a time in my life, when I believed in my heart that Michael didn't molest those little boys. But now, a decade later, with a decade's worth of controversy, odd behavior, and a complete disconnect with reality following this man, all I can say is that in my heart, I don't want the allegations to be true. What bothers me, though, is that if he didn't molest any of those boys, why the hell would he continue the type of behavior which practically destroyed his career in the first place? Being an adult male, I know there are some things you just don't do, some things that just aren't accepted in this society, even if there's nothing wrong actually going on. I'd never let my children share the bed with a 44-year old stranger, even if he lives in a place called Neverland and thinks that he's Peter Pan. Nor would I share the bed with a child who wasn't my own flesh and blood, regardless of how innocent the intentions are. Over the weekend, VH1 aired a movie called Man In The Mirror: The Michael Jackson Story, which is what spawned this long post. The movie painted the picture of a sad, lonely man, with no foundation in reality. It didn't seem to be evil in its intentions; it never made any judgments on anything that wasn't factual. It never said if he slept with those boys or not. It seemed to paint a very fair and accurate portrayal of what we knew and know MJ to be. But that portrait now belongs to a fallen star who's become a sad, sad man. The bothersome thing to me about the movie, was that the filmmakers apparently didn't have any rights to any Michael Jackson music. How can you have a movie about this guy without his music? I found it quite troublesome but also quite sadly fitting, that the movie about this superstar's life, who once wowed us with the Motown 25 performance of Billie Jean, effortlessly moonwalking across that stage, wasn't about his music at all. As I sit here tonight, fleshing out these thoughts, I'm listening to all of my favorite Michael Jackson songs. When I hear these songs, they take me back to a more innocent time in my life, a time when his music could transport me away from all of my loniless, sadness, angst, and fears. His music still conjures up feelings of joy, a fullness in my soul, that I'll always have when I hear his music. But now, those feelings have a bitter-sweetness to them that I just can't shake. When I think of Michael Jackson, his life, his music, and what it all means to me, I feel very sad. I feel sad that the superstar went supernova. It's hard watching a childhood hero fall. That's all for now. |
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Somehow or another, I was able to shut my life off from the drawing experience the other night. I plugged my iPod into my ears, concentrating on my entire U2 collection playing on shuffle, and lost myself in my art. The two and a half hour session flew by in what felt like seconds. That night, there was no second-guessing, no struggling, no self-doubt, or self-loathing. It was just me and my art.
Somewhere during these two drawings, I found a strong sense of pride and satisfaction within myself. So many times, I compare myself to the other people in the class, all going about their artistic journeys in very different ways. Right now, they all seem to be concentrating on color and oil painting. They're getting better each week, with amazing results. I used to get down on myself for not being like them, for not having the interest in color or paint like they do. But on Thursday night, I was happy with myself. I was happy with the fact that during the day, I'm a graphic artist who makes a living being creative. I use my talents, what I went to school for, for my career. I'm realizing though, that although that should be enough in my life, in the end it wasn't. There was another part of me, a part that just wanted to draw, have fun, be expressive, and not sell my soul to the collective corporate "the man." These art classes and this website, are all allowing me to do that. Even though I occasionally lose sight of things, I know that it's always been about me and my art. It always will be. As an adult, I know that my art is a gift. It's a huge part of who I am. The direction that my life has taken me, art is always there. I'm happy with my career, and how it is more technical and analytical. Those are talents and skills that I have too, which I've somehow been able to merge seamlessly with the other, more traditional artist inside. The technical graphic artist/product design specialist that I've become as an adult still depends on those creative talents too. As I get older, I'm finding a good balance for my art and creativity, something I'd never know what to do without. In the end, it's just about me and my art. That's all for now. Currently blogging to: The Eagles The Very Best Of |
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The weather today was just perfect. It's one of those cooler sunny days, where it'll almost going to be too cold to sleep with the windows open tonight, but still warm enough to enjoy the great outdoors while the sun is still out. I love weather like this. Unfortunately, my mind couldn't concentrate on work at all, it just wanted to be outside on this perfect day. I sat outside by myself today at lunch to at least get a taste of the day. I ended up doing the quick sketch of the tree on the right. I thought sitting outside and drawing would help me get remotivated inside. Not at all. Instead, I struggled in front of the computer with something far more technical and far less organic than Mr. Treebeard here. Instead, I dealt with links, navigation, screen resolutions, interactivity, programming languages, and converting vector-based graphics into a more universal format all ready for mass-consumption. Yeah, that's my job. Usually, I really eat that stuff alive. Usually, I love my job and am quite good at it. Not today. This entire week, my mind doesn't seem to understand that it needs to work for a living. In the winter, I don't mind being cooped up for days. I don't mind the warmth of our office or the distracting hustle and bustle of my job. When I get home from work, I don't mind being cooped up either. There's something about a nice warm house and the warm yellow light of a living room after supper in the fall and winter months that seems safe and comfortable. But in early August, all these walls are doing is blocking the sun. I'm on my way to art class now. I hope to feel a bit more inspired than I did last week. But again, I'm not sure if sitting in a classroom on this nice August night is the best things for me either. I'm pretty sure that I somehow have to get my creative juices flowing again. One type of inspiration fuels the other for me. Who knows? I'm not sure what my problem is these past few weeks. My mind is going in a hundred directions these days. I need to force myself to focus a little bit better. I'm better than this! That's all for now. |
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Fore!
x 18 = 88 (Yikes!) We plaid a scramble, or best-ball game, so everybody was able to help out. I actually had my fair share of good hits, which is awesome considering that I golf about once a year. When I made contact with the ball, when I got the club underneath the ball and caught some good air, the technique of the game was actually beginning to make sense. This is one game that I definitely need to (and would like to) practice to get better. My company usually sponsors and participates in a few golf outings each year. Different staff member are chosen each time to make it fair for everybody. This gives everybody a chance to get out of the office once in awhile and have a good day of fun. It's a nice little perk that comes my way once every few years. I've been feeling less than productive the past few days. Having the day out of the office but still being on the clock was a really good way to rejuvenate my motivation. The sun was shining, the weather was practically perfect, I spent the entire day playing 18 holes of golf with my friends, and I was technically "at work." I found the day to be quite relaxing. It was a good day to be alive. Between all of the fresh air today, and a challenging 45 minute run once I got home (I'm not sure where I got the strength to even finish tonight), it's going to feel great to plop my butt on the couch and scan through some DVDs, perhaps The Simpsons Season 4 or South Park Season 3. I should probably just get my ass to bed since it's already past 9:00, but that would almost make too much sense. That's all for now. It was a good day. |
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I know I go on again, off again with this running thing. But right now, for the past month, I've been doing it at least five days a week. When I started, I would run one song, walk one song, run one, walk one, etc. But now I only walk for a minute or so, near the end of my journey as I take some old metal stairs off of the bridge. Every night, I end my run about a block longer than the night before. My running is getting faster, better paced, and I'm feeling less out of breath and in better shape. Tonight I ran for 45/50 minutes. Last year, when I ran that 10 K (6 mile) race, it took me 57 minutes, and I walked through much of that. I have to be getting close to the five mile mark, I have to be. But tonight, I ran for almost 50 minutes. In the rain. And even though I was soaking wet from the rain, I could tell that I sweated through my clothes as well. The rain, despite its nagging, actually helped cool me down. Yeah, I did it. In your face rain, in your face. If you're wondering what the photo has to do with the post tonight, it really doesn't. It was a quick self portrait I did when I got back from my run. It has me in it, my iPod, and my painting from last night. Can any of you tell me what's going on in this photo? Where's Waldo? Today's playist: U2 Rattle And Hum |
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I remember spending literally weeks on the pools of blues and purples, all emulating the darkness and sadness I was feeling inside. Working with the paint like that was quite therapeutic and cathartic for me, but it also added to my sadness. I couldn't get away from it. The dark blues represented my tears; the deep purples were the feeling that I was drowning. Then one day, when my frustration with this painting and the Julie/Craig situation came to a head, I looked at this painting, which was only dragging me deeper into my darkness. I actually got pissed at myself. "Dude, snap out of it!! What is your damn problem? You're 20 years old; this is the best time of your life!! You are at the best college in the world. It's full of young hot women! This college, this art school, is amazing. Stop being so fucking self-absorbed! Things are waaaay to good to be acting like this." And with that, I mixed up some yellow paint, and got it to the right consistency. My teacher and a few of the other students caught wind of what I was doing and a small group formed to watch. And then, in one broad swoop, I chucked the yellow paint on my canvas of deep blues and violets that I'd been obsessing over for over a month. I screamed at myself "Snap the fuck out of it!!!!" The teacher applauded my bravery; loved the pure ballsiness of it. At that moment, I knew the painting was complete. I also managed to break out of my funk, deal with some of my problems head on, and have a kick-ass semester. This painting is a huge piece which has hung behind my computer since the day I got my Mac. It's a way for me to remember, that no matter how bad things are, they'll always get better. Sometimes, much of the time, we have the power within ourselves to make the situation better. At times, I still stare at the painting and get lost in the multi-layered pools of darkness. But the yellowish-gold always snaps me out of it. I look at the painting now, and laugh at myself for the young and foolish drama which fueled the piece. I can't believe I let such simple things get me so down. I think of life now....all the shit going on with Dad. It's all so much more real. The sadness, the darkness, the depression, is all real this time. All of the medication is actually beginning to alter his emotions. He's still in constant pain, more or less stuck home all day on the couch, frustrated with the situation, all of the pills, the constant poking and prodding, and quite lonely for Mom while she's at work. He's fallen into a deep depression. I've never seen him like this. This neuropathy is drowning him, consuming him. There's already whispers of clinically treating the depression too, but the doctor wants some of the other medication to stable off first, and hopefully get him better. The last thing he needs are more meds. Mom told me that one night last week, she heard some noise coming from the bathroom. Dad was in the shower, sobbing his eyes out. He just lost it. He got out of the shower, and started throwing shit around. She almost called me up, just in case he threw a fit or something. She spent the night rubbing his feet and back, comforting him to sleep. His comment was that he's "so fuckin' sick of this" as he sobbed himself to sleep. We're all fuckin' sick of it. This, I'm afraid, is far from Beverly Hills 90210 stuff. These pools of darkness are real and they are deep. But hopefully, hopefully, there's another stab at hope with this story. Hopefully, there's a splatter of yellow-gold at the end of this story. A couple weeks ago, my parents went to a new doctor in Madison, coincidentally enough where I went to college. This new doctor is already ray of light in this situation. She spent three hours testing Dad versus a mere fifteen minutes like I've seen the other specialist do. She hopes to have Dad back to work in about two months. She told them to be patient with her, and that if the current treatment doesn't work, she will work with them until she finds something that does. Part of this is getting easier, just because we're finally working with somebody who cares. The doctor, not some nurse via the doctor, calls when she says she's going to call (as opposed to the other nurses never calling back at all). Mom had to contact her a few times and the doctor returns the calls almost immediately. And now...for the next stab at hope. The doctor was looking at Dad's records. When this all started, he had an EMG test done, where they hook all of these diodes up to him and basically shock him to see how the nerves react. From the sounds of it, this test is less than pleasant. The new specialist feels like the test wasn't conclusive enough; I'm sure that other yahoo didn't spend enough time on it. She'd like to redo the test. The additional tests will help her figure it out what she's thinking may be going on: The high glucose levels from his diabetes caused the nerve damage, the neuropathy, in the feet. But that doesn't explain the amount of pain he's still in at this time, considering that his blood sugars are well under control. What she's going to look for in this test is an inflammation of the nerves in his feet, which would be causing the pain, not the neuropathy. This inflammation is something different than the neuropathy and would need different medication all together...hopefully getting rid of most of the other meds, which would get rid of the drowsiness, have him back to work, and maybe put this depression behind us. Our little stab at hope right now is that Dad has actually been treated for the wrong sickness, has never gotten the proper treatment for the actual cause of pain, and with some new medication the problem is treatable. This is what we're clinging onto for the moment. They go to the doctor next Tuesday. Hopefully this will be the yellowish-gold to help us snap out of this darkness. Wish us luck and thanks for listening. Monday's Playist: 1. Norah Jones - Come Away With Me 2. Norah Jones - Feels Like Home 3. U2 Elevation Live From Boston July Archives. When one door opens... |
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Stray
Bullets
The Dullest Blog
Ever
Soul
Coughing
Are You Serious?
Shadows
Go Away
Heart
On My Sleeve
Party Or Ponder,
Ponder Or Party
Damage Control 
First
the facts. I was in California from Thursday through Sunday.
But not in L.A. I was in San Diego. And it wasn't for business
at all. It wasn't for some dream job. That was all made
up. I was there for a bachelor party. A bachelor party that was
full of fun, mischief, and debauchery. I never thought I'd be
doing damage control on a "fake" post that I did, especially
after such a wild party! I will write about that another night.
Tonight, I feel like I really have to explain myself and what
the last post and the wild topics on my 
With
all of the top secret planning going on, I was in the mood to
pull a fast one on my beloved readers as well. The picture in
the previous post is legit, but it's certainly not me. It's a
guy named 
I
found a newer picture of Andrew with Ellen DeGeneres that resembled
me even more. I often wear a shirt like he's wearing in that
picture and have the same kind of smile sans some facial hair.
I saved that picture and thought that someday I'd use it on this
site, probably as a joke. I wanted to see if any of readers would
come out of the woodwork which such a wild and crazy post. I
never thought I'd actually pull it off.
After
a few polite, but fake farewell and congratulator posts from
coworkers, my friend 
John
also took some pictures in our warehouse of a couple boxes and
somebody shipping some items. He did this so that my friend 
Walk
On 
Silence
And Hope 
Fallen Star 
Just
Me And My Art 
I'm
happier with the first drawing I did, the larger one in this
post. It's about a 45 minute sketch, which, I think, remarkably
looks like our model, Roxie. The drawing came to me fast and
easily. It was a wonderfully organic process. The smaller drawing
in this post, even though it looks less like her (the nose is
all wrong), was still fun to do as well. I like the linear, really
graphic, more cartoon-like approach that I took. Both drawings
were done quite freely, without any real thought put into them.
It was more about just doing it, about going with my instincts
and letting my art flow through me. It was just me and my art,
and what it wanted to do with me.
Cooped Up
August 4, 2004 Wednesday 9:15 PM
Blame
It On The Rain
Pools Of Darkness