Yer Momma

I feel so guilty about not having a list yesterday I think I am going to over compensate, cause you know, I owe you or something.

The following is a list of things my mother never taught me that might have made life easier.

1. Internet rejection is as painful as real rejection. Seriously you felt the need to send me a note to tell me I am funny and charming and seem nice..... aaaaand I am not good looking enough? Jesus.

2. Short people are bad for you, sort of like the plague.

3. You shouldn't annoy Kevin Smith's publicist.... on multiple occassions.

4. Funny is over rated. If given the choice, most people, male or female will go for a 6 pack over a sense of humour. Nobody gets it on with a joke.

5. Same applies for kindness. You can't get an orgasm from caring.

6. Confidence is never showing the other person you care about their opinion.

7. Never write a blog post 5 minutes after a stupid person hurts your feelings. It belittles you and your work.

8. Having expectations of others is your fault not theirs. If they dissapoint you it is because you projected your own demands not theirs. A person will rarely step outside of their own character no matter how much it means to you.

9. This list is depressing.

10. I should bring the funny.

11. Here comes the funny.

12. It's ok to like fish, because they don't have any feelings.

13. When a bounty hunter corners you in a bar you MUST shoot first. The bounty hunter is at the disadvantage because the fat sluglike creature paying him wants you alive, whereas you want the bounty hunter dead. Waiting for him to make the first move is just silly.

14. Workahol > alcohol > drugs. At least in prestige. They all perform the same task, diverting one from acknowledging their life, but workahol only causes broken relationships, social dysfunction, heart disease and stroke... hey wait a second....

15. You don`t need to be good to be a success. You just have to exploit someone else's good. I am looking at you Dave Grohl.

16. You can also succeed by exploiting someone else's bad. I am looking at you Charlie Sheen's Posse.

17. Lists make you look cool and on top of things, even if they are full of self recrimination, doubt and angst.

18. Never give your love away for free cause then no one will appreciate it. Note: Love does not include compassion in the previous sentence.

19. When incarcerated, fear the cobra, otherwise it is just a horrible movie or a pet for someone who hates their parents.

20. I like you still. #NotIntendedAsAFactualStatement.

21. Always be trendy and # outside of twitter cause twitter peeps will think they are part of the in crowd when they read it and others will think you're cool because they don't get it and that must mean you know something they don't.

22. When a Chinese buffet is good you can solve all your problems, when it is bad you just spent 10 bucks on shit, and you have to eat a lot of it because you are at a buffet, and it would be wrong of you to waste the trust placed in someone when given unfettered access to food. It is your duty to eat all that you can not a suggestion.

23. Landlords are like women, you're not allowed to shoot em. Besides, you clearly lack property on which to hide the body.

24. Farting can improve a back ache but it also smells and so should be done in private.

25. Always let them see you sweat because it tells them that you are working, but seriously dude, never let them smell you sweat, that's just gross.


There are just some of the things my mom forget to mention while I was growing up. If you have any feel free to post them or email them to me.

Break It Down

Let me begin by apologizing for the interruption of the regularly scheduled broadcast. Many writers I know would have slogged through their current head space and churned out second rate product. I am not that guy.... anymore. I used to be that guy when I wrote for radio and television. It never mattered if I was in to this weeks lawyer's suck skit, I had to write it, and write it I did.

Now I have a bit more luxury since I am the head of this venture. I can do what I want, and today I do not feel classy, sophisticated or mature.

Some might say that is the perfect mindset for my type of writing, and those people would be correct. I score a certain level of hit with my juvenile sense of humour. Boobies. And it provides me with smelly farts and a comfortable warm feeling (haha) that someone, somewhere finds me the slightest bit entertaining, but it is cold comfort to me right now.

The problem with my head space is that it is not what you would call a happy go lucky immature rambling combines with eye opening pseudo spirituality place. It is more the self punishing, you're no good because you are old and still acting like a child sort of mind scape.






Next week I turn old. Very Old. Ridiculously old. It is not just one of those fake old numbers that people look at and go aha! yer old, here's your old guy mug, you' geezer hat and have a happy birthday. This one is for realz.

I turn 35.

I can't believe I just admitted that out loud and on the internets. There it is kids, I am old and there is no turning back or denying it.





There are such things as desired demographics. Generally speaking the 18-34 demographic is wanted because they are impressionable and have tons of disposable cash. They are also trendy and hip. They are the ones people think are cool because they are young, beautiful and influential among their peer group. These people are in to the pop musics and the rock and or roll thing. They have ideas and are go getters. They have energy, they have youth and they have balls.

In one week I go from that to being old.

The next demographic is called 35 to dead of natural causes. This new demographic is for people who are old and set in their ways. All of the sudden they listen to new country and Celine Dion. They have little spare time, even less energy and never seem to come up with anything new. These people are considered lucrative because they buy the big ticket items, but otherwise no one gives a crap what they think other than politicians since these are the people who vote. Yes that's right kids, these people are the reason politics is the way they are.... so that's cool right?

I am about to join people who are marking time towards their doom. I am about to become the old guy.

I can no longer feel good about listening to rock music. Breaking Benjamin does not make me cool, it makes me the old guy who tries to look cool.

I have to stop watching The Daily Show because it is for younger people who are cutting edge thinkers. The Colbert Report too.

Here's the thing that is troubling me. As an old dude, I am a failure. I am not set in my ways, I do not have a job that is going to provide for my retirement. I do not have savings or a portfolio.

I have no assets or prospects.

I am merely an old overweight fool who pines for shit he cannot have.

Here's where I get all sad about this writing thing. I am the guy who has always dreamed, like all young people do. I have dreamed of being a writer and making a difference. I have dreamed of helping people get clean. I have dreamed of helping kids escape their destinies and find new paths.

I have dreamed these dreams of the young, and I am still dreaming because something keeps me from grabbing that brass ring.

Over a week ago I wrote a glowing email about my writing and why literary agents should pick me up and shop my brainchildren around. It is full of grandeur, insight and persuasive salesmanship.

I did not hit send.

I cannot hit send.

I am afraid to hit send.

Now I am afraid I am about to become old without a single dream coming true.

There was a time in my life, actually three times in my life, when I never thought I would make it to old. The first time was when I was underneath a park bench. You can read about that here. The second time was when I was all strung out and completely messed up on the drugs. You can read about that here. The final time was when I was misdiagnosed as having liver damage that was going to kill me before I was 35. Clearly, unless I suddenly drop dead (which according to my biofeedback after having tried jogging today may happen) in the next week was incorrect.

I have never thought about the future because the future was never going to happen. Who cares about the future when there is a here and now to live in.

I am thinking that there might be a future. If I have survived this long there is little reason to think it is not going to continue. Apart from the actual problem with my liver, which is easily controlled by diet, I am ridiculously healthy. Despite all the crap I did to my body, and I did a lot of crap, I have a strong healthy heart and lungs that can oxygenate my blood like a damn athlete. I kid you not. I am a large dude with the blood pressure of a damn vegan marathon runner.

My body has betrayed me.

My body has conspired to keep me alive until the future happened.

I am reminded of a song in which the lyric goes, "teenage angst has paid off well/now I'm bored and old." I will give you three guesses as to who wrote that line.

What really sucks is that I am starting to gain some traction in this whole thing, but I can't keep up the happy exterior. I am hitting a breakdown. I am hitting that wall of looking back at what I have done and not being pleased. Then I look to my left and right and don't see what I want. I look forward and it is all a blur, nothing coming in to focus because I am lacking confidence and direction.

I want to be able to write funny. I want to be able to entertain you today, but I would have to wear clown make up to do it, and nobody likes clowns, not even clowns.

So here I am, laying bare to you the situation. I am old. I am not cool. I am sincere. I am trying hard to get somewhere but cock blocking myself. I am lonely. I am bored. I have a million dollar brain with a ten cent self esteem.

I wish I could blame someone for the fact that I am old, but really there is no one to blame but myself. I let this happen. I slacked on the drinking and drugs. I started eating actual food. I started living a normal life. I started exercising for crying out loud.

I am to blame for being old.

Sheesh no I am mad at me.

I guess there is nothing left to do but make some damn lemonade.

Oh good, old people like lemonade.

Hookers and Hand Grenades

Let it never be said that my life is boring. Let it never be said that my life is easy. No life should lack excitement, or difficulty for that matter. Without the difficulty one may never know that they are alive. I sometimes think easy would be boring and therefor not worth having.

The following is the story of my last few days, and how I came to understand I am no longer a bad man.

It started innocuously, with an email from a friend of a friend. Two years ago, my friend of friends E introduced me to the love of his life. He met her on the job, which is not that rare for people, except for the fact that his job was that of a pimp. The reality is, he would have never called himself that, nor would he have dressed or acted the part, but when it comes down to it, he was a pimp and a drug dealer.

He ran a strip club that had a cheap motel attached to it. Guess what was going on there people.

Anyway, he introduced me to this woman he had met on the job, and I was pleased to meet her from the standpoint of being happy he was somewhat settled down.

Then E killed himself and left her stranded in a sea of depravity. She had no guide, no life boat, no map. She was merely lost adrift with nothing but what she knew as a survival mechanism.

My life moved on and she was not a part of it.

Then the email arrived. In it she discussed the fact that she may or may not be about to be killed, and that she may or may not be having a drug problem. She begged for my help. She was afraid of her new manager, and afraid of what he might do for her. She needed me to come and rescue her.

Sometimes we are a victim of our instincts, and my instincts told me this was a bad thing. They also told me I knew how to deal with this. I am not proud of this, but there have been points in my life where I could walk in to a room and my will would dominate the situation.

The problem here is that I am not that guy anymore. I am not the large angry tattooed man any more. I am just not. Regular readers of my blog would see me more as the sad pathetic guy who can't get a woman. I suppose in a sense, this is what I have become, though I would like to think I am more.

Yesterday I became more.

On Friday though, I was a collection of misfiring neurons. I had no idea what to do. There was a part of me that felt responsible for her. That part was the part of me that had made a promise to sacrifice myself for E. We all had. There was a part of me that felt I had failed E when he died, and thought this was a chance to make up for that failing. There was also a part of me that felt guilty for having cut ties with this woman. I had simply let her go because she was a symbol of my failure and grief, and I couldn't live with that. There was also a part of me that wanted to prove I was not pathetic, that I still had the courage and manliness to get the job done.

I have always prided myself on the fact that I was not scared to act when the chips were done. A part of me that thrived under pressure and rose to the occasion to do that which was necessary to protect myself and my loved ones no matter what needed to be done. I felt like I might have lost that. It happened slowly, but when my ex told me she had been raped, I didn't bat an eyelash. I didn't run to her to claim revenge, I didn't move a muscle. I wanted to, but somewhere in the back of my mind I called bullshit, but I also called bullshit on myself. I wanted to believe she was lying so that I didn't have to do anything. I wanted to believe she was making it up so that she could drag me down to where she was at the time. SO I didn't act. But I always felt I did nothing because I was scared to become my old self.

So now I had this new chance to be my old self. I immediately went to a friend or two to get my mind screwed on safely, and make the decision of how to respond.

One friend told me not to do it. Not to get involved. What this person told me pissed me off. In many ways, it made me resent this person.

This person wanted me to just sit back and let the chips fall where they may because I didn't owe these people anything. Maybe this person was right, but I didn't think so.

All of a sudden I was angry. All of the sudden I was confused because my anger was misplaced.

Then I began to understand why I was mad.

I am not that man any more. I am not the violent, reactionary man, but I am still a strong person, a courageous person. I am tough and I am smart. I felt my friend was not giving me any credit for this. My friend was thinking in terms of me busting down doors and cracking heads; but, I am not that guy. I am a new guy. I am a smarter more sophisticated guy.

That was when I decided to show this friend, and myself that I have changed, that I am stronger inside than I ever was before. I could do this, and I could do it all without threatening, beating, pounding, shooting, snorting, or bullying. I could use my new skills to get the job done.

Many years ago, I had decided that I wanted to help people. I wanted to help get the lost and confused, the drugged out and the abused, the abandoned misused out of bad situation and in to good ones. You see, I have some skills some people don't. I have been there. I know exactly what it feels like to be lost and alone. I know what it feels like to think nothing is ever going to be alright again. I also know exactly what it takes to fix it.

I went back to school with the plan of becoming an addiction counsellor and crisis worker. I have all the training I need and several certifications with organizations with ridiculous acronyms.

What I don't have is a regular job doing these things, but I digress.

The point is, I have fully realised my new skill set and mindset. My friend did not give me any credit as this new person. This person who can and will help people in need by using his brain and his compassion rather than his brawn and his passion.

I went to this hooker. I went to her side and checked in to a seedy motel. I think many people wouldn't understand why or how I could do such a thing, but I am not shy, nor am I afraid of doing things that are dirty.

To protect this hooker's dignity, I will not go in to very much detail here because despite all her faults and bad decisions, she is a good person, a person deserving our respect. She is a person who deserves our kindness because she wants to better her life, even though she is scared and it is hard.

I will tell you this part though.

I had to confront her business manager. He was not happy to see me. His first thought was that I was some douchebag from a cheap romance movie. His thought was that I was a John trying to buy this whore from him because I foolishly thought she was in love with me.

I may have some issues with thinking women like me more than they do, but I would never be foolish enough to think someone I pay to show me affection actually felt that affection. I suppose my low self-esteem is helpful here. Despite the sad commentary on my inner demon, it is helpful to have the thought, not even a hooker could love me.

I calmly explained that no, I wasn't a customer. I explained who I was. Then he got mad. Apparently E had pissed this man off as well. Thanks buddy, you know, you could have been a little nicer to people.

Moving on, this is when the man started getting threatening and mean. The old me might have simply removed this obstacle. The old me might have reacted violently to his machinations. The new me stood my ground but also calmed the situation. The new me used psychology and a superior thought process to smooth ruffled feathers.

I explained to the man what value she used to be to him and how that value was lost now. I explained how it made good business sense for him to move on to a newer source of income.

He bought what I was selling. It took over an hour but I made him see the value of not being involved with a woman who was no longer stable, and no longer under his thumb. I also explained to him how hurting her or I was counter to his business model.

I left that room without having expressed one threat. I left that room without having hurt anyone. I left that room without backing down. I left that room with my head high, my eyes forward and my mind clear.

I left that room and puked in the parking lot.

It occurs to me now that anger and rage trump fear every time, and the sympathetic nervous system is more powerful than the para-sympathetic nervous system, but that being strong has a different meaning now.

I went back to my hooker. I explained that she could not go back to her life now. I explained to her how she was at a crossroads. Before her lay two paths, and that I could not choose the path for her. I could help her down the path if she choose to follow me, but I could not pull her kicking and screaming.

That night we mourned for her old life. She explained to me the horror of her life, and I think for the first time in her life, someone listened without pity, without judgement and without anger.

For the first time in her life she had a real friend that night.

She also got very very high.

Once I passed out she was left alone with her thoughts, alone with her decision. It took her several hours to come to a conclusion, but when she woke me up she had made her choice. She chose to live.

Then I had a choice to make. My youth had been spent doing various things that could get you fucked up. I had tried everything I could to make myself blissfully unaware of my own pains. Sometimes I still dream of getting high. Sometimes I still wake up with the feeling of being high, and then suddenly sober up and want to get high. I haven't, for the most part.

Since I quit drugs I have smoked pot 5 or 6 times. I kind of give myself a pass on that, even though I shouldn't, but it has been more than ten years since I got clean, and I am glad for that.

This was the first time I had been staring down the barrel of having the means to get totally messed. I had been offered drugs a few times, mostly by E and I had always said no. I think I did it out of sheer stubbornness, not out of inner strength or determination to turn the corner on my own crap.

Yesterday morning I had about an 8-ball of meth in my hands. I had the means to make myself feel better in my hot little hands for the first time. I didn't pay for it, so it hadn't cost me a thing to get a hold of it.

I didn't owe it to anyone to be sober, and I didn't owe anyone for the drugs. I could do them, feel better, feel stronger and get back that feeling of power.

At this point I had a decision to make about who I am. Am I the guy who is strong enough to say no, or am I just the guy who is strong enough not to be around it.

As it turns out, I am the guy who can say no. Though it felt harder than it should have, I flushed the happy powder.

Taking a hooker to rehab really changed my life. Not in the sense that anything is different. I am still the person I was the day before this all began. I am still living in the same place, and I am still poor. I am still underemployed and I am still lonely.

What I am though is still a good person. I am still Strong in a way the old me could have never dreamed of it. Before I left I was a new person, but I hadn't been that person yet. Before I left I was a new man, with new skills, and none of that has changed.

Now I know who I am. And that has made all the difference.

I talked with that same friend because I wanted to explain this to them. I wanted to give this person a front row seat to who I am. I had thought that like me, they hadn't given me any credit for being this better angel of my nature. I thought this person saw me as pathetic and weak and thought I didn't have the ability to get the job done without resorting to violence and thuggary.

I was wrong.

Turns out this person was just scared I would get hurt. Turns out someone out there cares enough about me to be mad when I risk my safety. Turns out maybe I ma wrong about no one loving me.

I see this person's point, and I shall not be getting this involved in some one's care again. What I will be doing though is making sure that when I can help I will.

Today I feel good about myself.

Today I feel loved like I never have before because I love me.

Today I feel cared about because someone I care about almost said they care about me.

Today I feel good because there is one less lost soul wandering the world.

Today I feel good because I was able to do what none of my old friends could. I transcended my life and realised my potential rather than getting bogged down in my baggage.

Today is a good day.

Masculin Bovine Excrement

Gonna just get this out of the way, there are going to be one or two dirty words used here today. They are not gratuitous, but sometimes, just sometimes, naughty words are necessary. They convey the message in such a way that no other word can. Some people claim they are merely the work of a tired mind that lacks the ability to use more complex language to put forth an idea.

I disagree. Sometimes one word can convey the thought better than the Queen's english.

Today, that word is bullshit.

I had occasion to recently think about the bullshit we tell ourselves. The little white lies, and the huge gaping black hole lies that suck the world in on us. Both are the makings of disaster, and we seem to do it to ourselves and others constantly.

Everyone seems to hate to face reality. They avoid the truth of things at all costs when the truth is painful. It is a defense mechanism which we utilize everyday. The bullshit we tell ourselves.

One of those big black hole universe sucking lies is, "It'll be better in the morning," or "Tomorrow things will be better."



I remember being told this by my mother all the time when I was little and scared. She was lying. I am not sure if she knew she was lying, I don't have the heart to ask her. Things always seemed to get harder the next day as new pain, new stress or new fear floated in.

I remember Ian telling me this once. I remember laughing at him. I remember the look on his face, it was one of hurt, afterwards. He was wrong. I'd like to think that he was being hopeful and optimistic and not lying, but the truth is, he was goth before goth was cool. That means he always thought the world was going to end tomorrow.

Sometimes it becomes easier for us to tell us things will get better because we can't admit defeat, can't admit that sometimes things get much worse before they get better.

I often find myself wondering why we want to lie to ourselves, even when we want to protect ourselves. This is actually one defence mechanism that I do not possess. I never have been capable of lying to myself. I am not sure if that makes me more or less well adjusted than the average person.

I know far too many people who are so adept at lying to themselves, they rarely even know it is happening. Sometimes we fear things so much, or we are shocked by our own feelings so much we have to lie to ourselves and other about them. It makes it so much easier to cope. But it really doesn't.

What it does is expose that present bias. It exposes the idea that we are ok now because we will be better in the future. Things will be so different in the future that I do not have to worry about the here and now.

I will stop, or start feeling a different way in the future because that future is so different, I can ignore how I feel now. I can ignore the me I project today because the me of the future is actually not going to have to deal with this.

I often wonder what happens if we never deal with these feelings. I often wonder what would happen if we continued to lie about it until the lie becomes the truth and we believe it so much that no matter what someone says, the truth is not enough.

Is it possible to turn a lie in to a reality?

Is it possible to pretend something until that something is willed in to existence? Or, in the end, do we wake up one day, see the truth and cry.

The Navy Seals have a saying, it goes like this:

The only easy day was yesterday.

There is a truth in this. Not a pessimistic truth, but rather a reality of understanding. Today and tomorrow are going to be hard. We are going to have to work for them to make them something worth living and feeling, and once they pass in to history they will in fact be something to look back on fondly. Days to remember with pride and joy because, though it was work, it was hard, it was tiring, it was challenging, it was well worth it.

There is a saying that the SAS use that also applies.

Who dares wins.

You can't sit back and think that the world will change around you in to what you want. You can't say to yourself or anyone else that tomorrow is going to be better simply because it has to, simply because you want it to. You have to go out on a limb. You have to be willing to risk pain. You have to risk losing it all to gain it all. Without this risk there can be no tremendous reward.

Risk carries with it the possibility of pain. It carries with it the unknown, but the unknown is not to be feared, merely conquered.

Risk is much like crisis. It caries with it both danger and opportunity.

Turn from the easy and don't settle for some watered down version of your better tomorrow, and risk everything for the opportunity of everything that could make you happy.

If yesterday was the only easy day, than that makes today the greatest day, because today is the day of opportunity. Today is the day where you can stop the lies, stop the pain and frustration. Today is the day you can walk in the light of a brighter sun. Today is the day you can admit to yourself all the things you lie to yourself about because today is the day tomorrow begins on.

The One With The Friends Reference in the Title

The following is the next installment of my 9 thousand part series of delineating and classifying subspecies of human beings. In the past we have looked at different types of female humans and male humans.
This time around I thought we would discuss the different types of friends that exist in the world.
Those of you expecting a retrospective of the best television show to ever feature Matt Leblanc should go here. (this is likely to never get old for me.

Those expecting a biting commentary on how we classify our friend type relationships should hang out for a bit and see if that is what I end up doing.

The very first category of friend is the

Fair Weather Friend.

This is the type of friend that loves to hang out, when there is plenty of booze, plenty of weed, plenty of food, or even just plenty of good news. When you are flush, this friend is right by your side every step of the way. They will be your confidant, your advisor, your priest, your party down buddy. One small problem. The instant it rains, they are out of sight. They run faster than they have ever run in their lives to get away from you when either the money runs out, or you have to deal with something in the real world.

This is a great friend to have when you are feeling good because they bring a little something extra to the party. They are the ones with the great stories, and usually a lampshade on their head by the end of the night. If you are bored, and can supply this person with fuel, there is no telling how many hookers are going to be passed out in the bathroom of your Montreal hotel room when you come to.

You cannot rely on this person for anything. They would love to help you move, unfortunately they have to be out of town that weekend. Oh damn, need a lift to the airport, would broh but my car has a bad alternator.

The only good news here is that while they would definitely not give you a kidney, you most likely don`t want one of their kidney`s anyway.

The Rainy Day Friend

This person is the exact opposite of the consummate party friend This person is always there for you when you need a hug. If life has gotten you down, then they are there to pick you up. They always have a kind thing to say to you, and they always think you are an amazing person.

Sounds good so far right? One small problem, if you aren't currently in crisis, the chances of seeing this person, or even talking to them are slim. They are definitely the out of sight out of mind people. On a certain level you kind of think of them as narcissistic, yet when push comes to shove, they drop everything and run to your side.

Unlike the fair weather friend, these people always have an umbrella for you, and are completely willing to give you one of their kidneys, but chances are you can't meet for drinks or get your calls returned.

We're Just Friends Friend

This is a frustrating friend. This is an aggravating friend. This is a person whom you find very attractive, whom you seem to click with but who seems to be not interested in you that way. You end up as friends and you can't get yourself out of it. Try as you might you can't get rid of the person, nor can you stand to hear about how their new boyfriend or girlfriend is so hot but they treat your friend like shit.

You know you have this type of friend if you have ever heard the phrase "I don't think of you like that." This is code for, the thought of sex with you makes me throw up in my mouth a little bit.


This is a tough friendship to get out of, and sometimes you never do, forever destined to pine for the one you think should be yours, yet never seems to think you are attractive enough for them. They tend to rely on you heavily for friendship so there's no way out of it unless you are a dick....hey maybe if you treat them poorly they will see you as a catch!

The Train Wreck Friend

This is a harsh friend to have. You know they are spiraling out of control and their is nothing you can do for them. They have stepped out of a comfortable reality and decided that chaos is the way to live life. They have lost jobs, or can't hold them. This person can't really hold down friendships very well, but like Luke Skywalker you can still sense the good in them..

You want to salvage the friendship, or at least hang in there long enough in hopes that they will get back on track; however, everything you've done has backfired and they are just free falling.

The only thing you can do for this friend is hang out until the hit rock bottom. Nibble around the edges of their life, just enough to remind them you are there. Maybe when they come to they will see your outstretched hand and you can be friends again.

The Sheltered Friend

This friend is far too annoying to really want to hang around for any length of time, and I will tell you why, they have never lived. They live vicariously through you and books. They spend way too much time fantasizing and not enough time living.

This person wants to be shocked by you banging hookers in Thailand or Drinking from the firehose. This person wants to compare the differences in your life like it is some kind of science experiment.

The only reason to keep this person around is to find out at which point they gasp in shock and feint. It can be a fun experiment to be sure.

This person will frustrate you because they are scared of everything. They never want to try that crazy Italian restaurant and they certainly won't give up on anything and will always make the safe play.

The Best Friend

There is no picture for this one because there is no thousand words that can describe this relationship. You know all the sayings; your friend will help you move, your best friend will help you move a body and so on.

I am reminded of meatloaf (mmmm meatloaf) who sang some horrible line about how he would do anything for love, but he won't do that. Well your best friend will do that.

Your best friend is the one who finishes your sentences. Your best friend is the one who can hear in your voice what you are feeling, see in your eye what you are thinking and reach in to your heart and mess around a bit.

This is the kind of friendship that all other relationships are built on. Without a person who cares about you like this, you can't form a love connection. Everything else is just lust, and lust fades and all you are left with is a person you don't really know.

Your best friend is the one that has always, and will always be there for you. They don't know why, they just are. They can't describe it, wouldn't want to if they could. It is a relationship that defies real words. The truly lucky are those who are in love with their best friend because that level of intimacy is hard to find in anything else.

This is what love looks like when you strip down the lust and cravings for validation.

Your best friend validates you always because they see you as you truly are and they don't care. They want to be with that person.

So often I have ripped off greater thinkers than I to show you the different types of love, the lustful, the unconditional and the familial. True love is all these things. It is romance, it is unconditional and it is a bond that never breaks.

Think about that the next time you are at the bar and the Situation hits on you while another sits quietly in the corner.

Lust fades, love lasts, and best friends are forever.

But I am a ridiculous romantic like that.

The Straight Dope

Ojk loyal readers, I suddenly feel it necessary to point something out to you. I am not gay. Seriously, I am not.

Generally I have nothing against people who are gay, they are in fact just people, and it matters little to me who they are sleeping with. I judge people based on their behaviour towards me and the people I care about, and the way they treat others.

Frankly, it works in favour that a few dudes find themselves removed from the possible pool of competition for women. This is a good thing for me, and I wish there were more gay men in the world.

My problem with the situation is that people, mostly women, seem to come to the conclusion that I am gay. This is not working for me at all.

I am not sure the exact reason I come across as gay, but it needs to be ended. It isn't so much that I generally care one way or the other if a person thinks one thing or another about me, unless it is detrimental to my goals. That is when the misconception happens to bother the daylights out of me.

Let me give you a few examples to illustrate my point.

First, there was a time when I found myself living in a beautiful, yet tiny town. There were 5 bars in this town. One was a dance club, another a country bar, another a nice little place right on the water, a strip club and then a pub.

One day, a roommate and I decided we needed a beer. Since we just wanted to grab a beer we decided that the strip club is out. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in my life when I liked going to strip clubs, when I had even frequented the strip club in this town, and was given the phone number of one of the girls. Seriously, I am pretty sure it was her actual number because it had her real name, and I hadn''t asked her for it. Anyway, the point is, going to a strip club is very expensive and usually involves some skank telling you how cute you are, how interesting you are, then grinding up against you for 20 bucks a song until you have to go home, two hundred bucks poorer, to jack off.

Neither of us can dance. Neither of us were interested in a romantic moonlit drink by the bay, and neither of us liked country music. Thus we ended up at the pub. Now, upstairs at this pub was a greta little lounge. They served high end scotch, Guinness and played alternative music. I do not mean Eddie Vedder, I mean that shit people play to seem sophisticated. Stuff with an acoustic guitar and a tortured poet singing that no one understands but everyone likes to think they are cool for listening to it. Hipster alternative. A great place for two classy gents out on the town to get themselves a quiet drink. One drink led to another, and before you knew it we were downstairs in the pub section cheering on Manchester United or something.

After the game was over I found myself at the bar, sans roommate who had met a lady. Unfortunately this lady didn't have an ugly friend for me to distract, so I was alone. I went and sat down. I started making conversation with the gentleman next to me out of boredom. A decision which, in hindsight, may not have been all that wise. Turns out the man was a 50 year old Russian man there with his 20 year old boyfriend, who was wearing the tightest, shiniest shirt I have ever seen.

Long story short, Russian started touching me, I started hitting on the waitress, she took pit on me and let me escape.

This situation, while uncomfortable was not that big of a deal. I just wish the guy would have gotten the message after I mentioned hgow nice the waitresses boobs were.

Nect example, half the women I know treat me like their gay friend. They take me shopping with them, dish on boys and ask for my opinion on their nails. I know this is my own fault, and I will get in to that later, but it is frustrating to me that they behave this way, mostly because I would like to have sex with some of them, but they think of me as their gay friend, and not so much as the raging testosterone factory of a love machine.

Next example, and last I promise, is that of a recent new arrival in my life. She is a cowworker of sorts and she invited me out to the movies last night. Now, I find her attractive, in a she's ridiculously hot and I am not sort of way. I have to try and respect her because she is my coworkerish. Thus I decided not to hit on her, cause when she turned me down it would be awkward. So we went to the movie, had some fun like time, despite the mediocrity of said flick.

Today she invited me over to her place for a few drinks and to meet some people.

Turns out some people actually meant her gay brother. It became painfully obvious to both her brother and I what was happening. It was essentially a double date. She had her boyfriend and her brother there. I had nothing but me.

It started off fine, until she began playing match maker. She was telling what a big shot her brother was down at the office, and started telling him how smart and sensitive I am.

I am pretty sure the brother figured out I was not gay because he gave me this weak apologetic smile.

I ran to the bathroom.

I then excused myself from the event and slowly made my way home. Of the course of this walk, as I was reflecting on my gayness, she began feverishly texting me. AT first she was mad that I was rude to her brother, and that if I didn't like him I should have been nicer. When I pointed out to her that he was not even close to my type she quickly became apologetic.

Apology not accepted Captain Neda.

Dammit I wish I could force choke!

Anyway, the point is, I was fine with the gay people in these scenarios. The drunk Russian was drunk and a little handsy, but he was just being a guy. The brother seemed sorry for the situation and didn't push it. I am also fine with people like my roommate who thought maybe I should have gotten the Russians number, or with one or two of the women who think I am gay. I am not fine with the women who I wish to wham bam thank you ma'am thinking I am gay.

I have been wondering exactly what it is about me that has them so confused.

I can assure you that prior to college, this was not a mistake made by anyone. Not a single person ever seemed to think the large angry man with the tattoos and military surplus clothing and flannel was gay. Not a single person confused my piercing stare o doom with the longing look of a would be lover.

No one ever misconstrued my talking to them at the bar with me wanting to take them home.

I lived with the same non related male for nearly 8 years and no one ever confused us for a couple. It might have had something to do with the fact that E might have shot them for saying so, or slept with their entire list of female relatives. I was mildly more sedate and would have just boned their mom while they watched.

Something happened to me on the journey of getting clean and finding purpose that leads people to believe I am gay.

I guess it is because my first move with women is to actually listen to them. I think this is a mistake on my part. I should start treating women like chattle, after all, isn't that what straight dudes do?

Ok, I admit I am a bit sensitive. I like to help people and I like to listen. I am good at these things. Somehow this makes me gay because the first move I make is not a cheesey come on.

I have become awkward with women, this is true. I think it is mostly because I actually don't know how to talk to women. I knew how to get girls, there is no doubt about that. I have no idea how to get women, so I just try the sensitive male thing. It works for me because it is not an act. The unfortunate part is that the rate of success is roughly similar to me walking up to women and saying I have a twelve inch tongue and can breathe out mmy ears. 19 out of twenty women will slap me. In my case, being friendly, sensitive to their needs and listening to them results in 19 out of twenty of them thinking I am gay.

Whether true or not, I am just not the crude line guy. I cannot be that guy no matter how hard I try. I am funny, sometimes, and I am smart, sometimes, and I am kind most of the time. It is who I am.

The problem is, women want to be swept off their feet, not treated like gold. When I find a woman I like, I want her to know it because I treat her like a diamond, precious and rare and worth every bit of my time and energy.

This is not a greta way to pick them up. Yes this is how they want to be treated long term, but on the first few dates, they want Mr. Toad's wild ride.

I cannot provide that without trust or comfort. This is why I am the gay friend. I am the gay friend because women want to be treated the way I treat them, just not in the bedroom.

What's that old line, a chef in the kitchen, a mother in the living room and a whore in the bedroom? Same is true of guys. Women seem to want us to club them over the head with our come ons, darg them back to our tents, ravish them, then in the morning we need to be sensitive to their needs and want.

Here's the thing, one person cannot be all of those things. I am not saying that good men, real men aren't good lovers, far from it. Don't believe me? Well then, believe the more famous fat man in an overcoat. He tells us that a sensitive man who cares about you and your needs will ensure your pleasure, cause well what the hell do you think he is about? If he cares about your needs in the living room, office, kitchen, guess what he is going to do in the bedroom?

Maybe the problem doesn't reside with me, but in a way it kind of does. In being the person I am, I can't shake the earth and move mountains until you let me. I can't take what is not mine, and I cannot force you in to the position I want you in. I used ot be able to do that with the girls. Oh it was so easy. They wanted it that way. Tey wanted me to be strong and powerful and callous. But I was taught that women didn't/

Maybe I am wrong, but I would so much rather be right. So, I guess I just have to wait for women to wake up to the possibilities and potential of a person who can please them everywhere. Until then, I guess I am gay.

Man Danglers

Running a bit late today, and maybe that is a good thing. I thought I was going to riff on seeing some dorkstick painting snow... serriously, our tax money at work; however, it occurred to me that it would have sounded hollow coming from me.

You think this is true mostly because my heart and mind wouldn't be in it. I had one of those conversations that a person has that at the time seem meandering and relatively without consequence.

I am famous for my philosophizing, my incessant need to question and examine. Hell, one of my better friendships is based on doing this when I probably should have been working. It got to the point where the boss actually would say something about us philosophizing in the hallways.

The point is, I am never happy with the surface of something, and rarely happy with an sort of lack of discussion on something.

This conversation was about something I have no right to discuss in any way. Love.

It's one of those topics that everyone has an opinion on, and some even get rich of their ridiculous notions.

Gear not intrepid reader, this is not about love, and I am never ever going to get rich off of my minuscule understanding of life's great prize.

This actually started me thinking about something. Mostly, why the hell am I not feeling the goodness of the love. This led me to think in the physical realm for a short period of time, but then I realised, hey some people love pugs, so beauty is not really a factor.

So is it that I am not a man?

Yeah I know, where did that come from, right? Sometimes it is better not to ask how my brain gets somewhere, lest we get sucked in to a vortex of nutbariness. In this case we should probably just say, in order to be in love, and be loved, you kinda gotta be a grown up. Kids get caught up in other emotions, lust, anger, jealousy and other things Yoda disapproves of.

A man can move beyond these things. A man has the knowledge and the wisdom. The temperment to utilize these things, and the strength to not back down from them.

In many ways, I am still a boy. In many ways I am still that scared little boy under the park bench waiting for someone to kill me. I recently had the chance to discuss the stages of development as theorized by Eikson. These stages discuss how someone learns and moves on to the next stage of life. The important part therapeutically speaking of his idea is that when one does not pass through the stage properly, they become stuck in life and cannot truly grow and mature.

I bring this up because I am wondering if I am really a man, and what really makes a man anyway.

I talked of strength, and to be sure, strength is not my problem...or is it. I am a very powerfully built human being. A gift I suppose that has helped me survive in many instances that surely should have destroyed me. But what use does that strength have? I can no longer use it to make money, so it kind of becomes useless.

True strength though is about strength of character, self discipline and the ability to beat yourself up when necessary.

I think this is the strength that any of my so called father figures failed to impart to me. Oh sure, I am stubborn, and that provides a certain amount of strength. If I say, something is going to be some way or another, then that is simply the way it is going to be for me. It's how I kicked drugs. I merely said, nah this is not how I am going to be any more. And for the most part, it was, and is that way.

What I was never taught though, what my Miyagi's never got through to me, or in some cases never bothered to impart in any way, was self discipline to attain things.

I have the appropriate sensibilities about woman, and proper behaviour, but I lack the stickwithitness that many find so sexy.

Mostly this has been about a lack of motivation. Never having the foresight to see the value in anything allows me the freedom to act like a child. This is not what being a man is all about.

Taking action when action is needed is easy. I am the type of protector and giver that will save and protect you from anything if I want to, but it is the fact that I can never promise the world that keeps me from doing anything proactive.

Think of it this way, Christians act nice because they are going to heaven. Tell them that God's plan for them is eternal suffering because he loves them is not gonna get you many god botherers.

Telling a man, if he man's up he is going to get what he wants, and most men will nose up to that old grindstone. Not me.

You can promise me the world if I just do this that or the other thing, and I will say to you, sounds great, give me a taste to prove you are telling the truth. I lack all faith. We could examine all of the broken promises in my life that has led me to this belief structure, but this is not about that. This is about me complaining about not having what I want.

On a certain level, this is about me wondering what a man has to do.

I never had that instruction. I never saw what a true man is. I only saw what not to do. What does a man do when he lacks all context for how to go about this life thing as a true man.

Like every other shlub out there, I want the American dream. The beautiful home, where the beautiful wife sits with me and stares out the window at the beautiful scenery. Don't know how to get it, wouldn't know what to do once I got it.

I guess what I am saying then is, like most of you, I don't have a clue. Life's instruction manual appears to be written in Sanskrit or Chinese, or Spanish, or some language only the crazy people are confident in knowing how to read....yeah I am looking at you charlie sheen, after all you are winning!

Since I don't have the answers, here is what I offer.

Adventure.

Come with me and explore this vast world with me. Learn with me. Try things, taste new things, ttry different ways and see what works and what doesn't/

I can't promise it will be easy. I can't promise it won't hurt sometimes.

I can promise it will be exciting. I can promise that it will be a learning experience full of new sights, sounds, smells and sensations.

It won't be predictable, but life shouldn't be. Life shouldn't be lived in routine. If it is, you aren't trying.

Live to live with me, and stop living to die.

The Longest Line

I think I need to start this off with a piece of great music.




So, I found myself in a weird situation today, having to stand in a line to check in at a social services office for a meeting.

Now, anyone who knows me will understand that I try not to be judgemental. I am not foolish enough to think that I am not, but at least give it full faith and effort. I try to see everyone as valuable, and everyone as being important in their own way.

Having said that, there are a few people I could do with out, and all three of them were in line with me today.

The first is dudebroh wanna be outsider fat boy sludge poser guy. Ok so the thing about this guy is that he is not really anything that he wants to be, and he doesn't exactly know that. He is white, but wears his bright shiny new ball cap (bright blue for those playing at home) tilted to the side. He wears his jorts clean, and his sports jersey fresh out of the wash. He is too out of shape to do atheletics, and to weird looking to do coeds. He isn't exactly funny or interesting, nor is he bright or dumb. This guy is just not any thing specific that he wants to be and he pushes through it any way.

The next type of person is angry white boy from the suburbs. He wears designer hoodies, shaves his goatee sharply and wears large designer jeans.

He works out a lot so he is in shape and he eats well so he is never really hungry. He knows he is god's gift to the world because his beleaguered mother tells him so because he baby can't do wrong.

The final person is daddy's little crack whore. You see, I know what makes a true crack whore, a true street demon chick. This girl doesn't have that. This girl was not abused or neglected; in fact, the exact opposite is true. she was spoiled. She got everything she wanted and never learned what it was to consider anyone else.

So first guy shall be called moose, second guy fred durst and third.....let's call her... Samantha. This one looked like a Samantha.

Ok so I walk in and some random person is at the front of the line then fred durst, then me. At the reception desk is Moose.

Moose leaves and walks by, sees fred durst and stops. He begins a complicated greeting ritual that involves hand gestures, slurred speech and nicknames like brah and homie.

They begin discussing how they can stay in contact as Samantha and her friend come up behind me. Moose sees Samantha and smiles and says some version of greeting young lady, it is a pleasure to see you again. At least this is what my douche to english dictionary tells me he said.

Then Samantha notices fred durst, and the game changes. It is clear to me she has had the sex with fred. She touches his arm and does the pouty face and puts herself between moose and fred.

Moose attempts some ham handed attempts to reenter the conversation and get between sam and fred but he quickly leaves without his digits, and presumably to cry.

At this point Samantha appears to be probing why fred durst never called him back even after she let him kick in the screen door.

The recpetionist called him over and he came forward, so did samantha because she wanted him to like her.

She walked halfway to the counter, then just stood there, in front of me. He friend decided this was the perfect oppurtunity to jump the line and proceeded to stand next to her girlfriend, who had just come from the courthouse where she was pretty sure she was just going to have to pay a fine.

Then it came that awkward time where the receptionist had to call someone forward. She wasn't sure who to call since I was in line and this other girl was in front of me. but off to the side.

Samantha begin to move forward. She was too slow, and I was much louder. I jumped in front of her with a giant smile and said hello to the receptionist and told her why I was there.

Samantha gave me a dirty look.

I wish I could have explained to her what happened. Explain to her that her complete lack of interest in anyone other than her is what caused her to be in the postion she is in.

Her complete lack of humility and mistreatment of others is what caused me to decide to treat her poorly.

Maybe if she had valued me, or valued moose...poor moose.

Sometimes you have to be mean ton be kind.

Light and Fluffy

So, I decided that I didn't want to put presure on myself today and actually write more on the piecework fiction project.

This wasd a horrible decision that appears to have backfired tremendously. Turns out, the presure to do something worth reading is much greater than the presure to write something cohesive.

I was chatting with a crazy person, which is of course never recomended, but I figured it would be ok because I am a bit crazy so it couldn't be all bad.

Well, I mentioned I had to figure out what to write about. Her fabulous and overwhelmingly useful suggestion? Something light and fluffy.

What does that even mean? Does that mean I should write about a miniature fat dude who is crazy? No wait, that's who she thinks I am. Ok maybe she meant....oh who I am kidding. I have no freaking idea what she meant.

I don't think I am built that way. I am just not light and fluffy. I want to be, but even the stuff I joke around about are actual issues we are trying to deal with in this world.

I would like to be the kind of person who can just let his mind wander, and wonder. The kind of person who can go to the same job, screw in the same bolt day in and day out. Come home to the same caserole every night. Fall a sleep during the news.

I just can't do this, I am not that person. I need more.... stimulating experiences.

Like a scientist I want to observe and experience everything this life has to offer, not just the monotony of a servile existance.

I cannot do light and fluffy because I refuse to believe that this world is light and fluffy. I refuse to believe that all existance is that frigging boring. There has to be more.

I know there are people who can watch CSI Pawtucket, but it ain't me.

I know there are people who can watch TMZ, it ain't me.

I know there are people who can do what they're told and fall in line. It ain't me.

I think this life would be easier if I could do this sort of thing, but I have never done anything the easy way. Not once have I chosen the easy path.

I chose the streets. I chose anger and hatred.

I chose unrequited love,

Some might say it is about suffering, about choosing to punish myself for being weak or distorted thinking about not being worthy. Many a psychiatrist or psychologist will tell you that if you are told you are worthless long enough you will believe. It becomes self fullfilling prophecy, but that is crap.

I choose the tough road because I think I am worth it, because I want big things, great things. I want these things that are out of my reach.

So often in this life it is about the chase, the high is in the yearning for the achievement. Once you get there you can enjoy it all the more.

It is the reason I will never give up, I will never back down from anything.

Some people have to deal with this in a way I wouldn`t wish on them, but it is the way it is.

I am not light and fluffy, just big and hard....ok that sounded sexual, but it wasn`t.

I have a dream to shoot for now, and I am trying my ass off, but should I fail, that`s ok, I can always fall back on being one of the masses, enjoying my pavlum.

So Far Away

I have spent most of the day day dreaming with my favourite dreamer. And it was good.

We bandied about theories on what makes appropriate semi formal dinner ware, and we dicussed beach front property. It was good.

We bargained for decor, and divied up imaginary rooms. It was good.

We even discusseed what it would take to live the dream. It was bad.

As with so many things in life, this dream involved chasing tiny pieces of green paper around until we caught enough of them. I sometimes wonder what life would be like if we didn't have to do this, didn't have to whore ourselves out.

I also wonder why it is some people have so damn much of it when the rest of us have so damn little.

It annoys me that society deems what Alex Rodriguez does is more valuable than what I do. And not even by a small margin. Think of it this way, A-Fraud makes approximately 1103 times what I did at my highest paying job. It angers me a bit that this dude has millions of dollars while people starve. I think until we manage to reconcile that every life has value, and that paying stupid money to people to do stupid things is not progress.

Think of it this way. Charlie Sheen has so much FU money that he can melt down and never have to worry about it. He can piss off and alienate every one on the planet, but who cares, the guys great greta great grandchildren never have to work a day in their lives.

This is all just sour grapes because I see how far away my dream is, how tiny of a speck on the horizon it is. I am seperated from it by an ocean and a desert, and I have no boat and no camel.

I think though I might as well work towards it. Work harder than I have ever worked in my life, because if something is worthwhile, and if it is truly great, then it must be worth fighting for, and worth working my ass off for.

So I guess this is me tossing my hat over the wall, dropping the gauntlet, pissing on the electric fence. This is me saying come hell or high water, by December 2012 I am going to be in Florida. I am going to have the dream, and if my favourite dreamer wants to meet me there, so be it.

Is this a good thing?

Grow Up Already

The last few days have been incredibly difficult for me for one reason and one reason only.

I have been forced to accept I am old.

It first started to dawn on me when I realised I was no longer young and cool enough to be part of the crowd who hangs out and parties. I also realised I was not old enough to sit at home and play parchese, or whatever it is old people do.

I am in that transition zone built mostly for people with young families and mid level jobs.

I myself am alone and in a dead end job I hate. The kind of thing early to mid tweenties dorksticks do.

I am too old to be that guy. I am too old to be shiftless and merely concerned with my own entertainment and making ironic comments on annoying celebrities.

I need to grow up. I had to realise today at the hospital that I need to start taking care of myself. The doctor frightened me with his talk. He essentially said my body was rebelling. And rightfully so. I have abused it for a very very long time.

I am at a loss for what to do. It all seems so foreign and difficult.

I just want to have fun, but I am too old to do that, yet I am completely unattractive to people my own age.

Life has passed me by.

It makes me sad to realise that I have no peers, and people now look at me as the douchey old guy trying to look cool and overacting with the kids. They look at me as a joke, and that pisses me off.

The older people look at me as immature, and that just pisses me off.

Once again, I am on the outside looking in, and it makes me sad....and pissed off.

Prepare the Altar.

Welcome to the round up. This is the paragraph that explains where we have been so far and transitions to where we are going. I think it is going well so far, but there is some room for improvement, and most dangerously, there is enough that still needs to be done that it might go horribly wrong. The biggest problem for me is not using the word so as an opener.

In all seriousness, we have learned that identity is not a choice, and we also learned that it takes a whole bunch of new agey words and concepts to define one's identity. For those who read yesterday's deliniation of the facets (i Had to use the word facets in a sentence because someone was using the word today non stop, but mispronouncing it. There are many faucets to this case. In order to understand what is going on we need to examine each faucet. It drove me up the wall so much that I needed to write a Wheatonesque parenthetical after actually using the right word in a sentence) to ....does anyone actually remember what I was saying before the parenthetical breakdown? Me either. Ok, yesterday we used different categories to define our own identities.

Some astute people may have noticed that I left something important out. Beliefs. I touched briefly on world view, but I specifically wanted to give this aspect of identity it's own top billing.

I did this because, it is my belief that beliefs are a strong force that implore people to behave in a certain way.

Beliefs are some of the strongest factors in our behaviour because they define our world view and speak to our desire for perfection of the future self.

Most of us are stuck in what is called present bias. We think more about the person we are right now, and less about the person of the future. Wer tend to pamper ourselves right away, rather than plan to pamper our future self. Mostly we do this because we like to think of our future self as being perfect. We think this person is going to eat better, live better, treat people better.

Think of it this way, you purchase a steak and asparagus. That night you are trying to decide what to have for dinner. You can only have one or the other. Someone with present bias (which is most of the honest people in the world. The rest will lie in exactly 12 seconds) will eat the steak and say to themself, on Monday, I am going to eat my vegetables and be happy about it. You see, the real you is in love with the steak and so you pamper yourself with it, telling yourself that the you of tomorrow is a better preson and will do the right thing.

Beliefs are much like us trying to work towards that better us. We select a series of thoughts and ideas that allow us to comfort the present self with thoughts of a stronger future self and future world.

I have no interest in going in to a discussion of spirituality at this point. The truth of religion is not what we are discussing here, merely the psychology why we choose religion and belief structures.

We use these beliefs in a ritualistic fashion. Ritual is a strong factor in ourlives because it brings on strong emotional memory. It is sort of the reverse of insanity, which is to say, doing the same thing over and over again and expecting the same result.

Our past experiences are tied to emotion, some good and some bad. We seek out with great passion and fervour the good and avoid the bad like the plague (unless we are maladaptive, in which case we seek out the bad to reinforce our skewed mental image of the world).

It saddens me to realise, I have no ritual. I have no experiences which I seek to relive.

Because it is December, I think about all my Christmas rituals. None of which I have kept or find specific interest in.

I used to desire the advent calendar. When I was a kid, I would do the advent thing every year. Each morning i would run to get my little piece of choclate. BTW, have you ever noticed that the low quality chocolate in those things tastes the same no matter where you are in the world? Creepy. Anyway, when I tried to recapture that as an adult, it just felt flat. Oh, for the geeky, I just learned there is an app for that. No kidding, you can download an advent calander app for you iWhatever, and every day you get a fun little winter/christmas themed little animation. There really is an app for everything.

I used to watch the Grinch every year, but that too has never been the same since living in Ottawa. It just now reminds me of bad feelings.

I seem to have gotten off the track of beliefs, but I think we all understand how these beliefs dictate our desired actions and feelings. Your beliefs unfortunitely hit the breakwater of your actions and emotions. This cognitive dissonance is what allows Christians to beat their wives, Muslims to kill people, Buhdists to do anything, and Athiests to be kind (just kidding atheists, don't hate me because I am sarcastic).

The point is, when we have beliefs, no matter what they are, we are forced to try and behave like our beliefs dictate. The trouble of course present bias. It allows us to break our belief structure b ecause on Monday we will be more Like Sidartha/Jesus?Satan?the great pumpkin.

Ritual is the form many of these beliefs take because we strive to reexperience anything and everything that once made us feel good. Whatever made us feel loved, cared for, whole, other adjective.

For those reasons, belief and ritual are a huge factor in our identity. We place a lot of value on how we hope the future will be, and without belief and ritual to lean on and look forward to respectively, we become lost in our own actions only. Most of which would make us feel crappy if we didn't know for a fact that on Monday the diet starts.




P.S., this post is gonna seem a bit disjointed because I removed a huge chunk, and that cripled the flow in the middle, but it was necessary, and I didn't want to not do this piece in its entirely.

Dippity Doo Da.

So what did we learn yesterday? We learned that you actually don't get to choose who you are. There are a multitude of factors that comprise you identity, none of which are choices. I could dazzle you with my psycho bablle and explain to you the effects of your biopsychosocial framework on your identity, but I think it is safe to assume that I actually do know what I am talking about, after all, I used biopsychosocial framework in a sentence.....properly.

But wait, could we not choose which parts of our identity, of the self to display. Without going in to the ways in which the ego, id and superego interact...to a certain extent yes. But what else did we learn yesterday? That we do this all the time, and it is pointless, so let's move on.

Part 2 of our 5 part series on how to be you is all about figuring out how to find your identity. If we remove choice from the equation, then we must now look at a way to figure the whole thiing out.

Like I said yesterday, choice would make this so much simpler. Wouldn't it be great if I could choose to be a nice person? Oh the money would roll right on in then.

Instead, we are stuck with searching our own souls for our identity...or at least the dorkstick in the mirror.

What aspects make up identity, maybe we should start there.

Personality? Self Image? Activities? Actions? Desires?

Yeah I like those criteria. They seem doable, and not to far out there on the new agey limb. That limb is tough to stay on because there is a white guy in a dashiki who smells like pecculi chanting self help mantras while doing the downward facing dog. It is unsafe for most people. Where's my Enya?

Ok wait, where was I? Oh right, personality.

What the freak is personality anyway? Is it the culmination of the way in which we see the world, and thus treat it? Is it defined by our nature and what ways we choose to preseent ourselves to the world?

Okie dokie, I can handle that.

I am a sarcastic bastard. Really, I hadn't noticed.

I sometimes find myself playing nice with others when I don't want to. They bother me, but I cling to them for some sort of comfort. Then I am all sarcastic. It makes my head hurt sometimes.

I also have this, shit happens world view, which causes me to not react emotionally to situations not involving bitches and whores....did I say that out loud? Anyway, the point is, I am oone of those melodramatic fools, no doubt about it...wait, that is lame pop grunge, not a real statement.

What this world view does is force me to use humour as every type of weapon/defense mechanism in the book. It is also what makes me both fun at parties and a great person to have around when the bio waste hits the oscilating cooling device. I just don't gfet stressed out when limbs fall off or people are running around trying to solve an emergency.

To sum up, I am a thoughtless jerk most of the time, but hey, nobodies perfect. I mostly just like to play with people and say stuff just to watch them react. It is fun for me.

Self Image. I'd like to skip this one, but I am not going to. Oh, I should explain at this point, I am doing this for myself to show you how it is done and perhaps my brass ones might lead you down the road of self discover too.

Self image is, give or take, the person you see in the mirror, and the person you think of when someone says your name. This is how you describe you to you, and then how you project that to the world.

Some days I like the man in the mirror, and somedays I see him as a fat loser. I guess this is mostly because I give too much power to the outside world, but what the heck, gotta give them some power sometime, or I would just internalize everything, and that sounds like a horrible idea.

I also see myself as not overly worth other people's time. This is a confidence issue which often leads to me not being worth people's time.

I am done with this one because it makes me feel bad.

I would like to point out though, today, I am having a good mirror day. I just thought I looked good. A large, strong person with style and a bit of a quirky personality. My face was not ugly, but full of interest and character.

Yay, good mirror day.

Activities are the things you enjoy doing. While we are not always defined by our hobbies and interests, they certainly add to the mosaic...oh there's a new agey term....I need more whey protein, and a damn soy based beverage.

What can I say, I am a geek. I like Star Wars. I can quote Star Wars. I can quote people who quote Star Wars. I own Fanboys. I have Star Wars minatures.

I game. Both electronically, and table top...ily.

I also love music.

Pop culture is funny to me, and I like to make fun of it...non stop. I could sit in Darryl's basement listening to Bluegrass (I really dislike bluegrass btw) laughing at youtube videos and discussing the downfall of civilization for the rest of my life and only desire some fresh food and water every once and a while.

I am also in to sports. I always have been. I love baseball, like hockey, and am interested in Footbal...mainly for the napping value.

I think the point I am making is, I don't give a crap about purses, bracelets, your boyfriend, what so and so said to you, or any of what you are doing with your hair now. If it doesn't have a batting average, Thaco (woot for the old school dandd reference, a touchdown to interception ratio, a beat you can slice people's heads off to, or failing that, dance to; then I am not the least bit interested in it.

Those are my interests and hobbies...oh did I mention I like to press buttons. I really don't care what kind of warning labels appear above, below, beside, or even on them. My desire to press them and see what happens is overwhelming. I do this with people too. It makes it hard to actually be my friend. I am guess only one person who is reading this actually knows these things about me and is laughing a bit about it. I can be a hard person to be friends with.

Actions differ from activities because I am defining actions as the things you do, not because you like them, but because you have to. They are your behaviours. The way yu act around other people. This also differs from your personality to some degree because, these are the ways you actually act, not the way you want to act.

You may have nboticed some of my descriptions included actions, and that is sort of the way actions work. They are sprinkled in to all the other categries. The only thing I can think of about my actions that stands out on their own is maybe the way I scowl in public. I like to make people stand apart from me and think I am unapproachable. This is a carry over from the street.

Lastly, we have the ever important desires.

I desire to help people. Sometimes, the cynic in me, says I like this, or desire to do this because it makes me feel better about all the ways I hurt people in the past. The optimist (a rarely seen figure in my clothing) likes to think it is because I have an enlightened world view and see this as a shattered world that needs everyone working together to make it whole again. I eel good when I help people, and that is all that matters. The who what where when why of it is just window dressing for psychoanalysts to chew on...mmmm mixed metaphorical statements taste like slimy.

I desire companionship. There is nothing I hate more than being alone. It drives me bonkers. I need company. Even if it is just knowing someone is nearby. I have felt broken and alone so much of my life that I just can't stand it anymore.

I desire sex. Yes, that's right, I loves me some sex. The sex is great. It really is. I like every aspect of it, esspecially the closeness and oneness of the whole deal.

I think now you can see how my desires manifest in actions. If only I wasn't paranoid of people and completely mistrustful of their motivations. That is my maladaptive behaviour, and while I would love to sit here typing about it, that is not what this is about. This is about positive things, not the things that are a bummer about each and every one of us.

If we roll all of that together in to a neat package, we start to get an idea of my identity. Who I am, what I stand for, what people can expect from me, how losery I am. Wanna know how bad I am? I actualy have a file folder on my computer full of my interests called losery. It makes me smile.

Now you try it.

As of day two, we have learned that identity is not something you can choose, nor is it easy to define. We have learned you can highlight aspects, or closet some of them, but in the end, you are who you are.

I wonder how many people who think they are my friend are now realising that I have suppressed me when dealing with them. How many friends realise I am not me around them because they would not accept me. I am no longer interested in hiding that, just as I am no longer interested in hiding that I am smart. I may not be able to type well, spell, do math, or draw, but I am friggin smart. I don't want to sound conceited, but there are very few rooms I have ever been in where I was not the smartest one in the room.

In the catagory of be careful what you wish for, I present to you, me. You all said be me. Well here I am. You should be you to, see how ar that gets you in life.

Tomorrow we will discuss chocolate and the amazing Boris Karloff.

You, Me and Decree.

I find it rather interesting that more than one person has given me the advice that I just need to be me. Be yourself monkey man, and the world will be yours. This is such a load of BS it makes me feel like Cartman's mom.

No one, ever, wants you to be you, it interferes with them being them. In all honesty, being me makes every woman on the planet want to be my friend. I do not need any more friends. I don't like half the ones I have now, and the other half don't get treated half as well as they should because I am so busy with the half I want to beat about the head and neck with a baseball bat.

Think about it. People are jerks. We are all selfish, and we are all more animal than we would like to admit. Everyone likes to point to the UCLA study that had half a psychology class pretend to be convicts and the other half prison guards. Unsupervisedd, after only a few short days, the guards turned insane and began torturing their classmates. This is people being them.

Sure, these are average people, but the world is full of average people. Despite what they might think, I have met very few above average people. I know a handful, maybe 3-4 above average people. The rest of them are depressingly average, even if they think they are not.

Dating, at least the attraction process of it is about putting your best foot forward. It is sort of like people who dress up for church. God doesn't care what you wear, or anything of the sort, but you had better look good for the neighbours. The same thing is true of attraction stage dating. You are supposed to be on your best behaviour.

Sure, no one suggests that you should lie, but you certainly need to behave in specific way. Why do you think first dates are so stressful? Not because of the pressure to be charming, but because of the pressure to edit everything you do or say.

I think it is ridiculous to think that you can attract a person merely by being yourself. Yourself is selfish. Yourself talks with their mouthful, yourself grunts at the wrong time. Yourself farts. Yourself sometimes would rather be somewhere else.

It seems interesting to me that people think they are being themselves. The same people who pretend to be things they aren't. They lie to themselves. They fake enjoyment of things to please other people. They pretend to like their coworkers.

All these fake people think I need to be myself.

Of course, that advice is harder to follow when you have no idea who you are. We all fake it to make it. We all pretend to be things, pretend to like things. Some of us try so hard to fit in that we forgot who we are.

That is where I find myself. I have beem faking it so long I am not sure who I really am. I have pretended to be so much that the real me has fallen away and I have either become who I pretend to be, or I have zero identity.

This got me thinking how do you find your own identity.

To that end, I am going to examine some identities this week and see if any of them fit.

First off, I think I should be gay. I am terrible with women, you know, unbless I want to just be friends. I think this means I am gay. A legion of females who want to be my friend and are so comfortable around me they can talk about anything, and make me feel like a tool. Ok so Imight be gay.

It would be so easy for me to just start being gay.

Of course, while I love sausage I am just not a fan of giving head. I don't want those things in my mouth.

Ok, I can be a pitcher.

I am beefy and angry, I can be a bear. Yes, I can be a selfish top bear. According to the fat man's large gay friend Malcolm, it is simple to get laid as a bear. This would make me happy.

I guess I can be a big gay bear.

My most meaningful relationships in the last few years of been solely with men. Ian, Darryl, Jay. All guys. My female relationships have been ripe with annoying behaviours, dissapointment, rejection and all the other lovely things we all hope and dream for.

Apparently I am in to dudes. I get along with them, and they never dissapoint me.

Maybe I am a big gay bear man lover.

Wouldn't it be great if the christians were right and the world worked this way. Of course, it doesn't work this way.

I love women. Men are rough, and bumpy, and smelly. Women are soft and rounded and smell amazing. Men are mostly idiots, women are kind and seem to be interesting to me. I do not like outies, men are outies.

Short, tall, fat, skinny, blonde, red head, brunette, white, black, chinese, native, they are all attractive. I find myself in general appreciation of most women I see. This isn't going well. It would appear that despite the fact women only want me as their gay friend, I am unfailingly in to them, and apart from a very select few, I can't stand dudes. Ther majority of them think only of eating, fucking and drinking.

Ok, identity check number 1. I am flamingly heterosexual.

Ok, I guess tomorrow I will try and be something else.

Mea Culpa.

So, I have emberrassed myself greatly this week. One of the major drawbacks of trying to be a better angel is that I like to be open and communicate with the world. This blog is part fun, part fiction, part education, part sounding board, part soap box, and part therapy journal.

This past week I used it to lay my heart bare all over the internet. In a way, this is a major breakthru for me. I have, in the past been very guarded about me. I have said somethings, eluded to others. But I have never really laid my whole being on the line for others to read and judge.

For those wondering, the person I wrote all those nice things about rejected me. Yes, it broke my heart just a little bit. To be fair, it was expected, and we have done this dance before. I doubt we will be doing the dance again. I am giving up on her. I have to for my own sake. Some people think she is using me, toying with me. Some people think she is manipulating my emotions for her own sick pleasure. I would like to believe this is untrue. I would like to believe that for once I put my trust in someone and they didn't break that trust.


So, I spent much of my week spinning around in a haze. This led me to make a fool of myself, both in real life and in virtual land. I am truly sorry I melted down in front of you, it is so...undignified.

So, internet, I am sorry baby. I didn't mean it. You are still the one for me, please don't be mad.

So, sorry again for spewing my sadness and anger all over you and making you watch my train wreck.

In a sense it was good for me to do it though. It reminded me of something. I am better than this. Sometimes my self esteem is as fragile as anyone's and I can get down on myself and let things like this leak out in to the world.

Frankly, I am not half as bad as I came across this week, nor am I as bad as I think I am. When I am not feeling sorry for myself, I am smart and funny. As much as I like to hate people, I also love them. I want to help them. These are the things that make me a good person.

I care and am loyal and I am smart and I am funny. If some people don't want that, so be it.

Somedays I just like to smile and nod at chicks who continually walk the path of abuse. They go out with peoiple who make them feel small. Make them feel bad about who they are, then toss them when they are dried up and used to the fullest. It is people like me who pick them back up, dust them off and get them prepped for the next douche. If they can't see the value in people like me, it is their own short sighted blundering.
I am speaking of more than one person, in fact, I am speaking of a half dozen women I have met in the last few years. All of whom passed on what I had to offer the,. So be it.

In the end, I will always have you internet, and if you will take me back, you will always have me. I will be here to make you laugh, to make you smile, to make you think, to pick you up when you fall down, to make you feel better about yourself, to drive you crazy, and to just sit and pass the time with.




yeah yeah, quick post, no editing again. I will be back tomorrow with a real post and such, I will even run spell checker.

Give it away now

What I got you gotta get it, put it in you.

Startin this one off with the musical interlude. For those that, for whatever reason, fail to remember the early 90's, that is the red hot chili peppers, prior to learning to play their intruments. I say that with some degree of affection, since I did in fact enjoy the album. I liked it so much that I eeven ordered it from Columbia House....ok truth is Reginald P. Ness Ordered it from Columbia House, but you get the point. It really is a wonder they stayed in business as long as they did, or that for some reason, Warner Bros. has decided to use the same business model again for orde4ring dvd's.

I don't want to go off on a tangent here, but.... Dear Warner Bros., your refusal to change your business model in light of new media and emerging revenue streams is the death nell of your company....that and doing movies like Cop Out. Physical media is somewhat outdated, and if like Blockbuster, you refuse to see it, you are in fact doing your shareholders a disservice. Please understand,for the next 10-15 years, people like my parents will continue to seek out old formats as that is all they know, but eventually they will be replaced by their children. Generation X eats new media and craps out diamonds....if you understand how to tap that ass.

You see, each subsequint generatrion will seek out the new media. Generation X, soon to be the dominant generation in the market place are the pioneers of internet content. Generation Y has always known the internet, and Generation Next has never lived without you tube.

We do not want your plastic earth killers, and we certainly don't give a crap about your scheduled television and your $8 popcorn. The sooner you get with the program, the sooner we will all be snug and making each other money.

Continuing to listten to Harvard MBA`s who learned from dead white guys how to do business is not the wave of the future.

X and Y were the early adopters of TiVo. They were the ones holding the camera for Steve-O. We are the ones that made lolcats and the meme a reality.

But I digress. The issue I am here to talk about is the new content, the new media, the new business model.

In a sense, it is the George Lucas school of economics. Screw the box office, show me the lunch box money! Content is shifting to free. More and more it becomes a ridiculous battle to fight it. Creative Commons is the wave of the future, and not understanding how it works, and why people are in to it is a mistake.

Think about it this way, I can either pay you 20 bucks to go see your movie, or I can watch a bunch of nobodies do someething similar for free. I can pay 50 bucks to go to a Dane Cook concert, or I can listen to a free podcast.

I can pay you 16.99 for a cd of music, or I can go to a local club, pay 5 bucks and hear the same thing.

Think of the internet as a local club. I can now interact with anyone and everyone, and I can hear their stuff.

This is no different than what was going on in the school yard. I remember clearly the day I went to school and told everyone about how cool this record of Bill Cosby was. Then I brought all my friends over to listen to it. Then we went to the local record store and bought more.

The internet is the new school yard. We are sharing the stuff we think is cool with each other. Wanting to cap that, control it and monetize it is as ridiculous as it would have been for you to send hired goons to my school to beat me up.

Content is no longer something people wish to pay for in the old fashion. We like to know what we are buying.

Here`s why.

When my friend Chris and I went to that record store, we picked up three things. A Frantics tape. A Monty Pythin Tape, and an Emo Philips tape.

To this day, I have that same Frantics material (only now it is a digital copy on my harddrive), and I can quote every single routine from the Monty Python tape.

I wish Emo physical harm.

I hated it. With a passion. I hated it so much I played it about 50 times for my parents because I knew they hated it. The only joy I got out of it was annoying people. Think of it as the original Rick Roll. Get in the car for a long drive, hand tape to parents and say, oh this is really good stuff, you are going to like it. Die of laughter.

Your product being a torture device is not a good thing. Because I wasted what little money I had on that stupid tape, I was angry. I was angry at Emo, I was angry at Capitol Records, and I have been angry ever since.

Lesson learned is, try it before you buy it. Not only that, but, why waste money on something I might like? Better to spend that money on something I know I like.

I would have rather purchased a Bill Cosby tshirt. I would have rather gone to a Bill Cosby concert than have spent the money on that Emo tape.

You jaded me. And now you want to take away my opurtunity to test drive my entertainment. I think not.

People can get content in any number of ways. Your decision to limit content, rather than understanding the new way to mentize.

Here are some great examples from people who have harnassed the power of the new media.

Kevin Smith and the smodcast network.

They provide a plethora of greta entertainment for free. They also provide some entertainment, bonus stuff for pay. You want more of this, go buy something from one of our advertisers and you get a free bonus podcast. They have show sponsors. They do a two or three minute commercial at the begining of the show, and then that's it. If I want the extras, I have to pay. It is a good system. TRhey also made a live venue where you can pay to watch them record the podcasts. I am not sure if it is working out for him, but it is a great idea, and something that should be encouragedd to more people. I would pay to go, if I lived in the area. I also pay for all sorts of Smith mechandise.

Wil Wheaton. The Wheaton gives free samples of his work. Like what you hear? Go buy it. Again, he provides extras for his paying customers, but does not screw over how audience in the process. The beauty of this system is that if I don't think I am going to like it, I don't have to buy it. I am still a Wil Wheaton fan, and in the future, if he puts out something I do like, I will buy it. Had I purchased something from him, not liked, I would most likely never interact with him again. How much money do you think I spent on Emo after that first album? What you want is a free pass to put out shit content, force me to purchase it, and then pcket the money. I never ever ever again want to walk out of a theatre, having spent nearly 30 bucks saying, "wow, that sucked." No one but the makers of crap want that.

Felicia Day. Felicia is the producer of the ground breaking show The Guild. This is a web based program. It is free to watch. Now that I have money, I fully intend to purchase some guild swag. I like what I see and I want more of it, so please, let me know how to get more. One of the ways they monetize is by getting sponsors. These sponsors get a short commercial at the begining of an episode and a wackload of banner ads.

Chris Hardwick of G4. This guy produces a weekly podcast. It is funny...called the Nerdist podcast btw, and see what he does is gives me this really cool thing for free, then promotes his live shows....which cost money. I would go to one of those shows, if they were anywhere near me. I would gladly go because I know I am going to like it.

So many times I have been burned by crap I just haven't liked. I harken back to the name of one of my favourite albums. NOFX, I heard they suck live. Because I knwo they do not, I will pay to see them. I will not pay to see other crap live. Just not going to happen.

You want to know why I gave away my tv and refuse to pay for cable? Because I don't feel it is worth the money.

I have reached my threshold of what I am willing to pay for, and the crap you make me watch isn't worth it. Give me good entertainment and I will sit through a commercial every 10 minutes....1 damn commercial mind you, not 5 minutes of them. When did commercials become the content? You understand that the instant the commercials became better than the shows was the instant most people with a brain tuned out right?

You want to make money, you need to follow the trend, not fight it tooth and nail. You need to be reminded of the fact that people are willing to pay for that which they deem worth it.

The crap you feed us is not worth paying for. You have two options. Make better stuff or have me arrested for downloading it. You can find a way to make money off me. I am not that hard to find, and lord knows my wallet doesn't require hacking to get in to.

It requires ingenuity. It requires creativity, and most of all it requires entertaining me. There is a vast difference between filling an empty hole in space time and providing a valuable product or service.

If the choice is between watching CSI Moose Jaw and listening to Smodcast, guess what I am going to do? If the choice is between free chance I might like something and 30 dollar chance, I am going to choose free chance every damn time.

Think of it this way, when you are playing monopoly and you land on chance, the banker doesn't charge you 50 bucks to pick upm the chance card, you just pick it up.

Want me to pay for something? Make sure I am going to like it. Or, do like the drug dealers do, hey, if you liked that you need to try this, or you need to pay for the extra bump. A free show once a week might be worth my entertainment dollars....in the form of merchandising, concerts, donations, advertising dollars spent.

What are you afraid of?

Having to actually make something worth the money we spend on it?









Ok, so this was supposed to be me bitching about people bitching about people who bitch about free stuff, but I got rolling and couldn't stop. Before congress in the United States is a bill that would seriously regulate content on the internet. It would allow copyright holders to permanantly delete websites from the internetwhen the content is counter to their business interests. This is a huge mistake. It takes content management out of the hands of consumers and gives it to producers. This is exactly what happened to television. When faced with certain choices, we can't help but take the lesser of two evils. We settle for inferior because the choice is between unwatchable and mediocre.

Rather than define content narrowly, we need to redefine what consumer means. So many people are coming up with ways to monetize their content without compromising it, or the consumer's access to it. Perhaps we should allow progress, rather than allow people with outdated modes of doing things to control how the future unfolds.

On demand, file sharing, podcasting, blogging and all the other web based content is not a fad. Nature finds a way, it always does, and our nature is to share and be likedd by our peers. You can force it underground if you want, but it is not going away.