Several things have been on my mind lately. In no particular order, they are:
Campfires
Being a dad
Work
40
Comic books
Being homesick
Boats
Shape
There you have it. A deep look inside my mysterious brain. Let's address these topics, shall we?
Campfires
Campfires make everything in this world right. They lead up to what is undoubtedly going to be a triumphant evening, and they put the stamp of approval on the end of a successful day. They welcome deep, mind-cleansing conversation that is honest and true. The yellow and blue tips of the flames mesmerize and relax, and when looking at them dance through the bottom of a whiskey glass, it erases all worries. Campfires are perfect with only two lawn chairs filled, both parties staring deeply at the burning timber while offering every thought that is on one another's minds. They are equally perfect with a half dozen tailgates dropped towards it, coolers of icy beer and good, loud music. They help celebrate a great day on the water, or make up for a bad day on the water. Campfires are best surrounded by stars, trees, and friends. But in a pinch, they will suffice burning in a store-bought firepit, on the patio of your subdivision home, with your dog at your side.
Being a dad
Not there quite yet. It's been a long time in the making, but one day I will be a dad, a pop, a father. I think I'll be decent at it. At the very least, they'll have a great mother.
Work
I like my job.
That was not a typo. When you like your job, you tend to think about quite a bit. In a good way. As in, "how can I be better at my job?". This is a first for me, and it is taking some getting used to. I am apparently doing an adequate job, as I just got promoted. This again is a first for me. I am really out of my comfort zone here.
40
I will be in my 30s for another few weeks. Then I get old. But what better way to celebrate becoming old than acting as immaturely as possible? I'm sure these boundaries will be tested when I raise a toast to all my friends and family back in Missouri in a few weeks.
Comic books
It is no joke that I have a newfound love (addiction?) for collecting old comic books. The art in these books has inspired my creativity up through my only successful college courses, and the stories and characters in these books keep me young.
I went to the comic shop today, actually. I didn't buy anything, but I discovered some books that I must have. They showcase the sketchbooks of some of my biggest heroes growing up. John Byrne, John Buscema, Todd McFarlane, and John Romita. Basically, if you're named 'John', you have a good chance of being a talented illustrator.
It's one thing to have these amazing, creative minds write the stories and draw the heroes for you to dream about when you're a kid...but to sit down a create something yourself is satisfaction tenfold. I have spent literally hours on end, uninterrupted, sketching and creating. I've sorely gotten away from my art. But my rekindling with comic books has me at least thinking about cleaning off my desk, sharpening my pencils, and seeing if still have anything left in me.
Some people get joy from staring deeply at a Van Gough or a Monet. I get the same feeling proudly displaying a Neal Adams or Jack Kirby.
Being homesick
I love Colorado. So much so, that I have planted fairly deep roots during my six years here. But I miss home...I miss my friends and family...I miss Missouri. But I have to look at it like I'm repotting a plant. You have to be very careful with a plant and its roots when transferring it to another home. If you're not, the plant may not make it.
Man, that's pretty stupid.
Boats
There was a time when I would get off work at 4pm, clock out, walk to my truck with my boat already connected to the hitch, go pick up my dad, and head to the lake. We would be on the water by 5pm, and usually had a keeper in the box by 5:15pm.
I am incredibly comfortable in and around boats. It is a craft that I should always own and never be without. It is the quintessential getaway. It exudes freedom.
A boat is in my future. It coincides with several things on my mind and listed here. Campfires; Being a dad; Being homesick, etc. It is not a luxury, it is a necessity.
Shape
I am not in good shape. Now, this thought is probably linked to "40" and "Being a dad" and other shit. But the bottom line is, I feel better when I'm in shape. Getting there is a different story. Sustaining it is an even bigger story. But if I am to be the 40something year old father of a child, and then a 50something year old father of a pre-teen, and a 60something year old father of a college-age kid, then fuck. There you go.
I'll start tomorrow.
--m
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Angry Dietician.
I live in Colorado, surrounded by Hippies, Hipsters, Greenies, Trusties, and Yuppies. As you can imagine, there is a lot of "organic" this and "sustainable" that. It becomes nauseating when crammed down your throat, and for me, to the point of wanting to buy an F350 and eat McDonald's everyday just to supply these granola eaters with a solid "fuck you". A free range, cage free F350...
But there are some practices that make sense to me. I'm no hippie, but I have become somewhat interested in where my food comes from. Now, I'm not rich enough to require any dietary restrictions, so I follow the Earl Law of "eating real food", at least when I can. That damn convenience issue screws up the Law from time to time, but it's a good, solid guideline to follow.
"Eating real food" sounds ridiculous. It's crazy that we even have talk about this. But with the convenience issue I just mentioned, we are surrounded by processed foods and beverages chocked full of weird shit to cater to people who are either in a damn hurry, or that just don't know any better. I try not to eat fast food or drink soda too much, but you also have to understand that it's part of who Americans are, and by this point we are probably pretty immune to the weird shit floating around in this convenient food.
Remember in grade school when you were taught the four food groups? Meat, fruits & vegetables, grain, and dairy? Well, anymore it seems you can't eat these. Fruits & veggies have to be organic. Meat has to be grass fed, free range, and hormone free. Grain will kill you, and dairy makes you psychotic and gaseous.
Shit man, I think that's stupid. Dieticians are as bad as chiropractors. I'm no genius, obviously, but my grandparents ate fruit, veggies, meat, dairy, and bread, and they all lived to be old as fuck. Hell, my granny had bacon at least once a week and she lived to be 95.
My advice to you? Stop being so lazy and learn to cook food. Buy actual food--not processed, not pre-cooked or prepared, not mass produced, not with ingredients you can't pronounce--and cook it and eat it. Can't afford organic vegetables? Me neither. So plant a garden. Or better yet, don't worry about pesticides. It's not that big a deal. How do I know? Because said grandparents lived to be old as fuck, remember? They bought veggies from Shop 'N Save, and I'm pretty sure they weren't Certified USDA Organic. That shit didn't even exist until 1990. I don't know, I may actually rather eat pesticides rather than bug shit.
Your meat have to be grass fed and free range? Well, that's a nice sentiment. But you're trusting whoever designed the label that's stickered to the cellophane. My advice? Find the farm. Or better yet? Shoot a deer and eat that instead. Be careful though, that deer may have been eating non-organic crops.
Bread and dairy are the devil, right? I get that it doesn't fall into a lot of people's diets. I've even attempted to cut back on sugars, thus slowing down on my starch intake. If you want to lose weight, that's not a bad route to take, I suppose. But once again, the grandparents thing. And no, they weren't morbidly obese or unhealthy. Just regular, food-eating folks. And if you really want to lose weight, you could try not eating so much and exercising. Just a thought.
To conclude this ridiculous, random rant: Eat whatever you want, I guess. This is America.
But there are some practices that make sense to me. I'm no hippie, but I have become somewhat interested in where my food comes from. Now, I'm not rich enough to require any dietary restrictions, so I follow the Earl Law of "eating real food", at least when I can. That damn convenience issue screws up the Law from time to time, but it's a good, solid guideline to follow.
"Eating real food" sounds ridiculous. It's crazy that we even have talk about this. But with the convenience issue I just mentioned, we are surrounded by processed foods and beverages chocked full of weird shit to cater to people who are either in a damn hurry, or that just don't know any better. I try not to eat fast food or drink soda too much, but you also have to understand that it's part of who Americans are, and by this point we are probably pretty immune to the weird shit floating around in this convenient food.
Remember in grade school when you were taught the four food groups? Meat, fruits & vegetables, grain, and dairy? Well, anymore it seems you can't eat these. Fruits & veggies have to be organic. Meat has to be grass fed, free range, and hormone free. Grain will kill you, and dairy makes you psychotic and gaseous.
Shit man, I think that's stupid. Dieticians are as bad as chiropractors. I'm no genius, obviously, but my grandparents ate fruit, veggies, meat, dairy, and bread, and they all lived to be old as fuck. Hell, my granny had bacon at least once a week and she lived to be 95.
My advice to you? Stop being so lazy and learn to cook food. Buy actual food--not processed, not pre-cooked or prepared, not mass produced, not with ingredients you can't pronounce--and cook it and eat it. Can't afford organic vegetables? Me neither. So plant a garden. Or better yet, don't worry about pesticides. It's not that big a deal. How do I know? Because said grandparents lived to be old as fuck, remember? They bought veggies from Shop 'N Save, and I'm pretty sure they weren't Certified USDA Organic. That shit didn't even exist until 1990. I don't know, I may actually rather eat pesticides rather than bug shit.
Your meat have to be grass fed and free range? Well, that's a nice sentiment. But you're trusting whoever designed the label that's stickered to the cellophane. My advice? Find the farm. Or better yet? Shoot a deer and eat that instead. Be careful though, that deer may have been eating non-organic crops.
Bread and dairy are the devil, right? I get that it doesn't fall into a lot of people's diets. I've even attempted to cut back on sugars, thus slowing down on my starch intake. If you want to lose weight, that's not a bad route to take, I suppose. But once again, the grandparents thing. And no, they weren't morbidly obese or unhealthy. Just regular, food-eating folks. And if you really want to lose weight, you could try not eating so much and exercising. Just a thought.
To conclude this ridiculous, random rant: Eat whatever you want, I guess. This is America.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Geek Fest.
Whenever you ask someone what their favorite TV show is, my least favorite answer is, "I don't watch TV." It just sounds so pretentious. You're so much better than others that waste their time in front of their television sets. You're above TV. You don't have time for that shit. TV is childish.
Well, I don't watch TV. I'm one of those assholes. During baseball season, I always have the Cards game on, but that's usually on my computer or phone. If April is watching a show that I can tolerate (which is seldom), I'll sit down and join her. Sometimes I even sit through utter shit just to spend time with her. That's the kind of guy I am.
But there's a new show on that I am 100% addicted to. They can't film the episodes fast enough. I have to see what is next. It's not a drama. It's not a sitcom. It's a stupid show about finding highly collectible toys called Toy Hunter. This goofy cherub-looking dude meets people that have collected toys over the years and are ready to unload them for whatever reason. He haggles over price with them until the two sides come to an agreement. It's kind of like American Pickers (which I'll watch whenever it's on, too. I guess I do watch some TV...) but all about old toys. Not super old toys from the 30s, 40s, and 50s, but more around the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Superheros, Star Wars, cool 70s stuff like Starsky & Hutch, KISS, Six Million Dollar Man... So a lot of these pieces that the host runs across I remember from my childhood. If I didn't have the toy as a kid, maybe my neighbor did, or my cousin's friend, or some classmate in Mrs. Matthews' 3rd grade class. The show really brings back a ton of memories and makes me want to start sifting through my old boxes of childhood garbage.
Most of the old toys I used to have are long gone. Victims of a garage sale, death by firecracker, or given away when I thought that I was "too old for this crap". But I still have a few. It's kinda fun to hold on to them...let my friend's kids play with them.
But what's gotten me into total geek-mode lately, thanks in part to this addictive television show, is digging out my old comic books. I've got some pretty good ones. The new found popularity of Marvel Comics in particular--with the X-Men and Spider-Man movie franchises, as well as the new Avengers-related series of films--has me dusting off all my old books, organizing them by title, and pricing them out. Some aren't worth shit, but they have a ton of sentimental value, either due to their art (I used to draw comics religiously) or how many times I stayed awake at night reading them over and over.
Oddly enough, as horrible as my memory is, I can remember where and when I picked up most of my comic books. Spider-Man #280 & #281 (guest starring the evil group of bad guys, The Sinister Syndicate!), which are worth close to zero dollars, are two of my favorites. I was camping at Roaring River State Park with both sets of grandparents in 1986. While we were at the lodge buying our tags for the following morning, I picked up both comics to read that night. There was a cute girl with strawberry blonde hair at the cash register who rang me up. Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight" was playing on the radio.
Yeah, but I can't remember my wife telling me two days ago that we have dinner plans tonight. "Huh?"
My nephew, Alden, is digging the comics too. That has sort of rekindled my interest in them. He's loving Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, and the Avengers--so when he sees some of the old books I have and where the characters originated from it's pretty cool. It makes me grin to see him so excited when I give him an old Iron Man from the mid-80s. It's not just a cool movie anymore at that point. I told him that when that comic came out, Robert Downy Jr. was co-starring in "Back To School". He didn't get the reference. "Rodney Dangerfield? Sally Kellerman? That kid from "Christine"? The guy from "Rocky"? No? Nothing?...."
So, anyone that's actually reading this...and certainly bored as shit by this point...how 'bout you donate your comic books to me and Alden?? If you've got some laying around in your attic, or your uncle, neighbor, or brother-in-law has a few tucked away in the basement collecting dust, why don't you send them our way? Spider-Man? Yep. X-Men? Avengers? Journey Into Mystery, Daredevil, Tales to Astonish, Iron Man, Amazing Fantasy, Hulk? Yep to all. Even our DC friends would have a good home here. Superman, Batman, Justice League? Yes please. I'll pay shipping.
It's fun feeding my inner-geek. And Alden...he's a geek too. He just doesn't know it yet.
Well, I don't watch TV. I'm one of those assholes. During baseball season, I always have the Cards game on, but that's usually on my computer or phone. If April is watching a show that I can tolerate (which is seldom), I'll sit down and join her. Sometimes I even sit through utter shit just to spend time with her. That's the kind of guy I am.
But there's a new show on that I am 100% addicted to. They can't film the episodes fast enough. I have to see what is next. It's not a drama. It's not a sitcom. It's a stupid show about finding highly collectible toys called Toy Hunter. This goofy cherub-looking dude meets people that have collected toys over the years and are ready to unload them for whatever reason. He haggles over price with them until the two sides come to an agreement. It's kind of like American Pickers (which I'll watch whenever it's on, too. I guess I do watch some TV...) but all about old toys. Not super old toys from the 30s, 40s, and 50s, but more around the 60s, 70s, and 80s. Superheros, Star Wars, cool 70s stuff like Starsky & Hutch, KISS, Six Million Dollar Man... So a lot of these pieces that the host runs across I remember from my childhood. If I didn't have the toy as a kid, maybe my neighbor did, or my cousin's friend, or some classmate in Mrs. Matthews' 3rd grade class. The show really brings back a ton of memories and makes me want to start sifting through my old boxes of childhood garbage.
Most of the old toys I used to have are long gone. Victims of a garage sale, death by firecracker, or given away when I thought that I was "too old for this crap". But I still have a few. It's kinda fun to hold on to them...let my friend's kids play with them.
But what's gotten me into total geek-mode lately, thanks in part to this addictive television show, is digging out my old comic books. I've got some pretty good ones. The new found popularity of Marvel Comics in particular--with the X-Men and Spider-Man movie franchises, as well as the new Avengers-related series of films--has me dusting off all my old books, organizing them by title, and pricing them out. Some aren't worth shit, but they have a ton of sentimental value, either due to their art (I used to draw comics religiously) or how many times I stayed awake at night reading them over and over.
Oddly enough, as horrible as my memory is, I can remember where and when I picked up most of my comic books. Spider-Man #280 & #281 (guest starring the evil group of bad guys, The Sinister Syndicate!), which are worth close to zero dollars, are two of my favorites. I was camping at Roaring River State Park with both sets of grandparents in 1986. While we were at the lodge buying our tags for the following morning, I picked up both comics to read that night. There was a cute girl with strawberry blonde hair at the cash register who rang me up. Eddie Money's "Take Me Home Tonight" was playing on the radio.
Yeah, but I can't remember my wife telling me two days ago that we have dinner plans tonight. "Huh?"
My nephew, Alden, is digging the comics too. That has sort of rekindled my interest in them. He's loving Iron Man, Captain America, Thor, and the Avengers--so when he sees some of the old books I have and where the characters originated from it's pretty cool. It makes me grin to see him so excited when I give him an old Iron Man from the mid-80s. It's not just a cool movie anymore at that point. I told him that when that comic came out, Robert Downy Jr. was co-starring in "Back To School". He didn't get the reference. "Rodney Dangerfield? Sally Kellerman? That kid from "Christine"? The guy from "Rocky"? No? Nothing?...."
So, anyone that's actually reading this...and certainly bored as shit by this point...how 'bout you donate your comic books to me and Alden?? If you've got some laying around in your attic, or your uncle, neighbor, or brother-in-law has a few tucked away in the basement collecting dust, why don't you send them our way? Spider-Man? Yep. X-Men? Avengers? Journey Into Mystery, Daredevil, Tales to Astonish, Iron Man, Amazing Fantasy, Hulk? Yep to all. Even our DC friends would have a good home here. Superman, Batman, Justice League? Yes please. I'll pay shipping.
It's fun feeding my inner-geek. And Alden...he's a geek too. He just doesn't know it yet.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Eventful Blue.
I hurt my hand. I'm not sure if it's tendinitis, carpal tunnel, or masturbator's wrist. It's painful to do simple shit like turn the keys in my ignition, unscrew a lid, type blogs, or tie a fly on the end of my line. I'm not sure when or how I damaged it, but it's getting kind of bad. I solely blame this condition for my poor oarsmanship today.
I, along with a couple of friends, float-fished the Blue River today. It was fun. It was eventful. Not necessarily "bad" eventful (we didn't flip the raft), and not necessarily "good" eventful (we didn't catch a ton of fish.). Just eventful.
The day starts off with the alarm going off at 3am. Yeah, 3. Meet at the fly shop by 4, make the haul up the mountain, shuttle the trucks, and we're in the water by 8. That's a lot of prep. The launch is sketchy. We hafta lower the boat by rope down a 30ft cliff to get to water. Boats are heavy. And plus, my hand hurts...
After an hour or so, I got the call. The guys went over some basics with me, I plopped down in the center seat, and off I went. The boat starts spinning instantaneously. I start pinballing off every boulder in site. Backwards. I'm struggling dearly. Two minutes into this lesson, my forearm veins are seconds away from exploding, as are my forehead veins. I continuously go the wrong way. Immediately I start screaming and cursing about how horrible I am at this and how miserable this is making me feel. Instead of letting the boat gently drift downstream while easily and accurately positioning it, I try---I don't know what I tried. It didn't work. It made me say "fuck" a lot. My instincts were battling me--I am trying to paddle this 500lb boat through boulder fields and waterfalls like it's a fucking canoe. I'm a very capable canoeist, by the way. And my hand hurts... After a solid 10 minutes of absolute mayhem--the boat going every place it shouldn't be going--falling sideways down waterfalls--running into very sharp, dead, dangerous trees--oar handles jabbing me in the kidneys--spinning the boat through very fishy water while slapping the oars violently on the water like I were having a strong seizure...Ben finally says sternly, "Holy fuck, Matt! I've got to take over. You're going to kill us." Or something along those lines. He was wise in his decision.
Then we see another moose.
I, along with a couple of friends, float-fished the Blue River today. It was fun. It was eventful. Not necessarily "bad" eventful (we didn't flip the raft), and not necessarily "good" eventful (we didn't catch a ton of fish.). Just eventful.
The day starts off with the alarm going off at 3am. Yeah, 3. Meet at the fly shop by 4, make the haul up the mountain, shuttle the trucks, and we're in the water by 8. That's a lot of prep. The launch is sketchy. We hafta lower the boat by rope down a 30ft cliff to get to water. Boats are heavy. And plus, my hand hurts...
Temperatures dropping down to 43 degrees greeted us in Silverthorne and shot up to a balmy 45 degrees at launch. Ben gave us a quick "What to do and what not to do in the boat" speech before we waded out into the frigid water (in flip-flops) and heaved off. Ben was excellent at maneuvering through the rapids, sharp rocks and drop-offs. Several fish were spotted, some were missed, and a couple were landed.
Although sharp pains shot through my phalanges like electrical shock, I continued pounding the banks with my double streamer rig thrown with an 11ft, 6 weight switch-handed rod. It really hurt. Really. Ben switched spots with Graham, who is fairly new to fishing and rowing, and proceeded to get a little fishing in. Graham is pretty dang good himself with the oars--especially for a novice.
I have been float-fishing before. It's a blast. The fishing part is, at least. I've never had to row, but figured when my time eventually came that I would be good at it. Either that, or I'd be terrible at it. One of the two. You see, I'm a more than capable canoeist, so I figure the transition would be a smooth one. That, or an extremely rough one. One of the two.
After the stress fades, and a capable oarsman is in charge, we start seeing enormous rainbow trout rising to feed. It didn't take us long to realize that they were feeding on dog chow. Yep, dog chow. One of the local landowners and owner of this particular section of the river likes to feed his pets. His pets are enormous rainbow trout. Mixed feelings shower the boat. All three of us appreciate a wild fishery, where streambred trout feast on insects and baitfish indigenous to that watershed. We appreciate a natural stream, free of man-made processed crap that attracts fish like a Big Mac to a fat kid. But...landing a 30" fish didn't sound too bad. We quickly notice that there are literally bucket-loads of food pellets floating on the water. We're bumping 25" trout on the head with the nose of the boat as they boil and frenzy. Since we don't have a food pellet fly or some variation, we plug on.
Then Ben catches one. It's big, maybe 23".
Then we see a moose.
Then Ben catches another one. It's bigger, maybe 25". Here's a movie of it. You'll have to cock your head to watch it because I can't figure out how to rotate a movie.
Then my hand hurts even worse from netting that stupid fish. It's a sore hand.
After all the fish and moose hijinx, it's my turn again on the oars. It went about the same as the first one. Spin, spin, splash, splash, stuck on rocks, sideways down falls, in the trees, jabbing ribs, scaring fish. I'm horrible. Absolutely horrible.
After spotting two more moose (that's the same amount of moose spotted as fish boated, which is kind of cool if you're going to have a slow day...), a deer, about getting decapitated by diving bald eagle the size of a mule (that's no shit--swooped down right over my head. My thinking is that he was offering magical, mystical healing to my extremely sore hand), we finally approached the take-out. Assisting us in pulling our raft up the ridiculously steep embankment were several weed-smoking hippies. I think they were just kayakers, but I'm sure "weed-smoking hippies" isn't too far off.
Eventful.
I plan on taking Ben's raft to the YMCA pool to practice up before attempting the Blue (or any other river with rocks, sharp trees, falls, and a current) again.
After my hand gets better.
..
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Phil.
My grandpa liked to sit outside and look at things. He would sit on his front porch and watch the rain. He'd sit outside during the worst storms. Actually got a zap from a flash of lightning once. Made his hand go numb for a little bit. He never said much...he would just sit...and watch.
He would sit under a tree in his yard, on a bench by the river, in a lawn chair overlooking his garden. He loved sitting outside and looking.
When he would visit us at my mom & dad's, he would take his gun and walk back in the woods where there was a little bench nailed to a hickory tree. He built it, if I'm not mistaken. He would sit on his bench and watch the trees and the weather and the wildlife. Sometimes he would shoot a rabbit or a squirrel, but more times than not he would just sit there and look.
He would ask me to come sit with him. I had no idea what we were looking at or why we were sitting instead of watching TV or playing. He tried, but the sitting never lasted too long--I was too young to appreciate the solitude and life happening all around me. So I'd go watch Godzilla vs. Mothra on channel 11.
I used to think grandpa was just antisocial or trying to get away from my granny or all the grandkids--which may be partially true--but now I get it. Sitting outside and looking at things is fantastic.
The older I get, the more I appreciate witnessing the subtleties all around me. Things that we take for granted, that we overlook or just don't care about. I don't really feel like waxing poetic about the wind and rain and trees and animals....but it's what I like looking at. It makes me appreciate, it makes me feel alive, it makes me calm, and it makes me happy.
It may sound stupid to you, but I really like sitting outside and looking at things.
Must have gotten that from Phil.
He would sit under a tree in his yard, on a bench by the river, in a lawn chair overlooking his garden. He loved sitting outside and looking.
When he would visit us at my mom & dad's, he would take his gun and walk back in the woods where there was a little bench nailed to a hickory tree. He built it, if I'm not mistaken. He would sit on his bench and watch the trees and the weather and the wildlife. Sometimes he would shoot a rabbit or a squirrel, but more times than not he would just sit there and look.
He would ask me to come sit with him. I had no idea what we were looking at or why we were sitting instead of watching TV or playing. He tried, but the sitting never lasted too long--I was too young to appreciate the solitude and life happening all around me. So I'd go watch Godzilla vs. Mothra on channel 11.
I used to think grandpa was just antisocial or trying to get away from my granny or all the grandkids--which may be partially true--but now I get it. Sitting outside and looking at things is fantastic.
The older I get, the more I appreciate witnessing the subtleties all around me. Things that we take for granted, that we overlook or just don't care about. I don't really feel like waxing poetic about the wind and rain and trees and animals....but it's what I like looking at. It makes me appreciate, it makes me feel alive, it makes me calm, and it makes me happy.
It may sound stupid to you, but I really like sitting outside and looking at things.
Must have gotten that from Phil.
Friday, June 8, 2012
80s Metal Friday.
If you've followed this blog at all for the past couple years, then you remember 80s Metal posts. They are fantastic.
In the spirit of nostalgia and wickedness, here is one right here. Please notice that most everything that an 80s Metal video should have, this one has...chicks, big hair, partying, kicks, jumps, and badassness. I mean, hot chicks actually shot this video. Also, you are going to laugh 27 seconds into the video, if not sooner.
I can't stop watching it.
Enjoy.
Thanks for watching. Now we'll all be singing "Gimme Your Love" by...whoever the hell this is.
,,
In the spirit of nostalgia and wickedness, here is one right here. Please notice that most everything that an 80s Metal video should have, this one has...chicks, big hair, partying, kicks, jumps, and badassness. I mean, hot chicks actually shot this video. Also, you are going to laugh 27 seconds into the video, if not sooner.
I can't stop watching it.
Enjoy.
Thanks for watching. Now we'll all be singing "Gimme Your Love" by...whoever the hell this is.
,,
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Jed.
Been awhile. Sorry, I've been cheating on this blog with another, much more cynical blog. Wish I had a happier vibe to go along with my first post in months, but I really don't.
Lost a family member today. A good guy who unfortunately lost his extremely quick battle with cancer. Seems like that shit is everywhere lately.
Jed is my dad's cousin's husband--or my second cousin's dad. When companies list family members that you are allowed bereavement leave to attend the funeral of, this relationship generally isn't mentioned in the rundown of relatives. That's kind of bullshit. How do they know how close or not you were to that particular person? While it sounds like Jed was a distant relative, he was much more than that. He was a man of faith that took it upon himself to become a minister later in life--and with that title, he helped put to rest many of the "grand" generation of my family by conducting their funeral sermons (or whatever you call them). Jed did so in an honest, from-the-heart, uplifting way that so often gets turned upside-down and exposed from people that just didn't know the deceased. Jed knew them, and he knew what to say about them. And everyone always left the sermon (or whatever it's called) feeling proud and thankful.
Jed's passing is a tough one. He was diagnosed with lung cancer only five and a half weeks ago--a little over a month. Not a smoker, so it was kind of out of left field. Jed's kids are mine and my sister's age roughly, so that in itself kind of hits home. I deeply feel for them and cannot imagine what they're going through. Mandi, Emily, if this ramble ever makes it your way, I just want to say how sorry I am.
I'm not an enormous fan of getting old. Not because I'm going through some mid-life crisis or anything--I'm not talking about me. I don't like getting old because it makes me worry about the next "grand" generation. Several of my closest friends have lost their parents recently. We lost Jed. Got nervous when my uncle had heart surgery. We're not getting any younger, and our parents certainly aren't either (no offense). This 'parents getting old' thing is new to me and I don't necessarily care for it. I want my dad and Uncle Bob to play football with me still (Uncle Bob still probably could, even after the aforementioned heart surgery). I don't like having the constant worry sitting in the back of my head. Lately it's moved to the front.
I understand though. I'm not in denial or unsure how life works. This is what happens. People get older and eventually fall out of good health--sometimes sooner, sometimes later. Then there's cancer. I wish cancer would get cancer. But when you're talking about that it really doesn't matter if you're 40 or if you're 70. That's an additional worry...can't control it though. You just have to stay positive and live your life, my friend.
And then my brain goes another direction. I could have cancer right now, who knows? I then fall into the mindset of prioritizing. IF that were to happen, especially sooner than later, what would I want to scratch off the bucket list? How would I want to speed up the living...you know, just in case I didn't win? Or for that matter, how would I want to spend it now, sans gloomy diagnosis, but in preparedness for a car wreck, an embolism, a blimp accident, a bullfighting mishap... Well, there are a ton of things I'd like to do: travel, explore, experience, taste, see.... But I think it all comes secondary to spending as much time with your loved ones as possible. All the other fun stuff is the icing.
That's what Jed did. He spent time with his loved ones and still saved some room for icing.
It's not going to be the same without you, bud. Thanks again for taking care of all of us when we lost the others--it really meant a lot to us. Hopefully I can somehow return the favor.
.
Lost a family member today. A good guy who unfortunately lost his extremely quick battle with cancer. Seems like that shit is everywhere lately.
Jed is my dad's cousin's husband--or my second cousin's dad. When companies list family members that you are allowed bereavement leave to attend the funeral of, this relationship generally isn't mentioned in the rundown of relatives. That's kind of bullshit. How do they know how close or not you were to that particular person? While it sounds like Jed was a distant relative, he was much more than that. He was a man of faith that took it upon himself to become a minister later in life--and with that title, he helped put to rest many of the "grand" generation of my family by conducting their funeral sermons (or whatever you call them). Jed did so in an honest, from-the-heart, uplifting way that so often gets turned upside-down and exposed from people that just didn't know the deceased. Jed knew them, and he knew what to say about them. And everyone always left the sermon (or whatever it's called) feeling proud and thankful.
Jed's passing is a tough one. He was diagnosed with lung cancer only five and a half weeks ago--a little over a month. Not a smoker, so it was kind of out of left field. Jed's kids are mine and my sister's age roughly, so that in itself kind of hits home. I deeply feel for them and cannot imagine what they're going through. Mandi, Emily, if this ramble ever makes it your way, I just want to say how sorry I am.
I'm not an enormous fan of getting old. Not because I'm going through some mid-life crisis or anything--I'm not talking about me. I don't like getting old because it makes me worry about the next "grand" generation. Several of my closest friends have lost their parents recently. We lost Jed. Got nervous when my uncle had heart surgery. We're not getting any younger, and our parents certainly aren't either (no offense). This 'parents getting old' thing is new to me and I don't necessarily care for it. I want my dad and Uncle Bob to play football with me still (Uncle Bob still probably could, even after the aforementioned heart surgery). I don't like having the constant worry sitting in the back of my head. Lately it's moved to the front.
I understand though. I'm not in denial or unsure how life works. This is what happens. People get older and eventually fall out of good health--sometimes sooner, sometimes later. Then there's cancer. I wish cancer would get cancer. But when you're talking about that it really doesn't matter if you're 40 or if you're 70. That's an additional worry...can't control it though. You just have to stay positive and live your life, my friend.
And then my brain goes another direction. I could have cancer right now, who knows? I then fall into the mindset of prioritizing. IF that were to happen, especially sooner than later, what would I want to scratch off the bucket list? How would I want to speed up the living...you know, just in case I didn't win? Or for that matter, how would I want to spend it now, sans gloomy diagnosis, but in preparedness for a car wreck, an embolism, a blimp accident, a bullfighting mishap... Well, there are a ton of things I'd like to do: travel, explore, experience, taste, see.... But I think it all comes secondary to spending as much time with your loved ones as possible. All the other fun stuff is the icing.
That's what Jed did. He spent time with his loved ones and still saved some room for icing.
It's not going to be the same without you, bud. Thanks again for taking care of all of us when we lost the others--it really meant a lot to us. Hopefully I can somehow return the favor.
.
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