I'm just not ready to face the world after Turkey Day....

Apparently doctors are now saying that looking at pictures of babies and baby animals makes you feel better and is good for your health (makes the blood pump faster).

So, enjoy the New York Daily News' Baby Animal gallery and improve your health.

Namaste.

Rage Kitty

I can haz acidic blood that melts people.

Really like the Rage Kitty.

Namaste.

Proof Positive

This explains a great deal....

Revenge Is Best Dished With Turkey

After the Macy's Day Parade was Rickroll'd today, I think it's only fair that we begin a plan like this one to get him back. Let the Duckrolling begin.

And in case you missed the Rickroll today (it's about 30 seconds in)....

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving.

Before you slip into your Trytophan coma, make sure you thank your friends and family, and make sure you go and do something nice for someone who isn't as lucky as you are.

Namaste.

Heeeeelium!

Enjoy this website.

If you don't suddenly feel like Helium is following you around and smile...you aren't human.

Namaste.

Augering an Adult

(Thanks to Alan Guthrie)


Being an adult is not the moment that you realize that people will leave you. It's the moment that you figure out that you will have to leave other people for their greater good.

Being an adult is not realizing that you will fail. It's figuring out that you will fail someone else.

Being an adult is not being angry at the world. It's figuring out why you're really angry.

Being an adult is finding the futility in trying to change other people.

Being an adult is not pointing out other people's stupidity. It's figuring out your own.

To some, the tree in the picture by Mr. Guthrie is dead and sad, but there is a real beauty to it. It is the true metaphor of the world. Eventually the pieces will be stripped away and we will all be laid bare. If what is left is beautiful, it will be seen that way. If not...then so be it. There is a beauty in the futility of fighting the course of the river.

I don't really sleep anymore. My body and mind won't let me, so I contemplate. Some nights, I go into my son's room, and I just watch him sleep. This big head with a little body that occasionally jerks at a nightmare, and I wonder what a two year old dreams about that would scare him. There aren't monsters in his life yet as his mother and I have been careful about that, so what makes him jerk his body and scream a little. Is it being without his parents? Is it falling down stairs (as he did once)? And yet as I watch him, my fears begin to take realization. If I die tomorrow, I don't care...but what will happen to him? To my wife?

It used to be easy. When I was in college, I nearly died a few times. There were accidents, times of idiocy, and even just straight dumb luck, yet I survived every moment. If I hadn't...then oh well.

And it's odd, because I remember the exact moment I understood death. I was five years old standing in my parents' bathroom, and the whole process and idea of death clicked in my head. The world literally shifted to a point of clarity. I can't describe it better than that, but the whole world moved left and clicked into place. My parents and sisters would one day die...then I would too...and I would be gone forever. Yes, Virginia, even at an early age I knew that Christo and I wouldn't agree. So I did what every "genius" child would do: I hid in my parents' clothes hamper. I was convinced that Death (in the personification of the Grim Reaper) wouldn't look in there because it was dirty clothes...and who the heck hides in a hamper? I was in there for only an hour, but I thought I was in there for longer (because kids don't really have that concept of time yet).

This would change, however, as time passed. I no longer feared my death, and I really can't tell you why. It's not a "I believe in ever-lasting soul" thing, but more of a just not caring anymore. This was seen when I got to college. In my first year, I took part in pychological experiments as part of what I thought would be my major: behavioral psychology. One of the experiments was about extreme situations and self-preservation. The tester had setup a situation where three or four people would be in a room and (unbeknownst to us) a man would enter with a gun and threaten us. The test was apparently about seeing if we would follow directions under duress (This is another reason why I don't like psychologists). So there we sat, in came the gunman, and he gave us directions that we were supposed to follow. I would love to say that I walked up to him, put the gun up to my forehead, and, in a low, gruff voice, said, "Go ahead...pull the trigger," but I can't. I followed instructions...sort of. As I was told later, I made sure to step in front of everyone when the gun was pointed toward us. Didn't matter if it was the other guy or the girl in with us. Whenever the gun turned toward anyone, I stepped in front of them.

And that's what I want to do with the people I care about. I want to step in front of them and take the bullet. In my head, I've lived a good life (if it's not a metaphorical bullet, but a real one). And yes, pain is necessary to learning. We have to hurt someone, and someone has to hurt us if we are to be complete...yet I think of my son again. I don't want him to ever experience the pain I have. I want to protect him.

You see, the hardest part of being an adult is realizing that you are connected to people...and if that connection is severed, it hurts them.

I have to stop and think of him, my wife, and those who care about me and I care for if the situation rises where I might die. I would take a bullet for my students, I really would, but what would it mean for my son? And what If I'm dying? What if Cancer has a hold on my body and ravages me inside and out? I would never want my son to have to do what I did with my father. I took my father's hand and walked him through the hospital. It was a horrifying experience. Who could ever want that for their child?

It's easy to disappear. Unlist your number, change that cell phone, delete an email address. People are resilient, and we can overcome pain.

And the beauty of futility is that eventually we will become orphans and have to deal with it.

So I sit in my son's room and watch him sleep. I wish him happy dreams where he rides the train he loves so much. And I hope I prepare him for the future.

Being an adult is not wishing you could be young again. It's preparing those around you for you leaving.

Being an adult is not saying used to be better. It's questioning what makes things better and why.

Love your friends and family while you have them. The current can always shift in an instant.

Namaste.

Because You Should

Give to your friends.

I recently surprised two different friends of mine with gifts solely because I could. While that's sounds egotistical, the reasoning behind it is far from that.

My buddy Keith is a huge Green Lantern fan. Recently, a limited edition pair of bookends was released to commemorate the Sinestro Corps. I managed to trade a few of my older and important comics to another collector who happened to have those bookends. While I'll miss those old comics, the look on Keith's face, which was a combination of sheer joy and total bewilderment, made it worthwhile. If you've never seen a grown man returned to a state of being a child on Christmas morning, you're missing out.

At the same time, I made sure Margaret could live out her fantasy as a drummer for Survivor's Eye of the Tiger. Before she even called, I could hear the squeal several miles away. Now I expect her to rock out so hard and become so good that she can destroy anyone while wasted at a Vita.mn party.

I'm not rich, I just care. Why? Because even though I understand that we finish alone, the journey should never be done so. And as selfish as it may seem, the feeling you can get from making someone else happy is intoxicating and more addictive than any drug. An added bonus is the need to use your brain to figure out what a person really likes. It's a fun mystery.

To be clear, however, it doesn't take money to get that feeling. You can just as easily make a gift and give it to someone. One of my former students is about have a birthday. The gift I'm sending is not one I made, but one that (I hope) is thoughtful.

You should care and give because The Beatles may have been right: and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.

Of course that's just my opinion. I might be wrong.

What I find interesting, however, is the backlash for both the above mentioned gifts. For Keith, the comic book community the person I got the bookends from has turned their attention on me and started taking me to task. While I should care that the value of one of the books I traded is much higher, I don't. In the end, the perceived value of the book is worthless compared to his joy.
The same goes with Margaret. I don't care if people are jealous or think I'm crazy. All I care about is that she's happy, and Indigo Sassypants will now have music to help him chase shadows on the wall.

Be good to your friends, and when you need them, they'll be good to you.

Namaste.

I'd Vote for Him

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

Because my son is Lando.

And because we have to save those Tauntauns.

Enjoy.

Makes Sense to Me

I was asked to summarize my training as well as this trip.

This picture works. Another two hours of lecture, then I get to hope I have a seat on the plane back to Minneapolis. If I don't have a seat, you better believe I'm buying another ticket or renting a car. Ain't no way I'm missing the election.

Namaste.

(Still) Training in Dallas

Day 2.

While the actual training is SO much easier than was described to me, the hotel is still causing problems.

My teaching conference is not the only one here. Fannie Mae is also here showing off all the money the government gave them by having a giant party for its members with high end food, entertainment, and gift bags. I managed to crash their party for a while before someone noticed I wasn't wearing the right badge. While my buddy Tom has a ton of anger, my anger is focused more on this crap. Don't tell me there's no money and you need help...then throw a giant party. Sheesh.

Also here are people for the Texas/Texas Tech game, NASCAR fans (there's a race at the Texas Motor Speedway), a law enforcement conference, and some sort of conference for beauty pageant organziers. That's a great deal of people. And because of this, there are a many idiots. Sure, I went and meditated in the garden again. And I had a person ask me if knew my shoes were off. It was if I was special person who could not feel that my socks and shoes were in my hands. I wanted to feel the grass between my toes. However, there two better stories of the other people here and the grief they cause.

#1:
We may have fallen back last night for the end of daylight's savings, but the Texas fans were crying into their beers after the Longhorns lost to Texas Tech last night. No one was crying more than the guy next door to me. John Longhorn, as I've been calling him, was extremely drunk when he stumbled into his room this morning. He was also really upset. So he made a phone call and loudly bawled about the University of Texas. Not a small crying, but a full on boo-hoo as if he was Oedipus discovering his history. I heard the entire conversation as well as his..umm..relieving of his beer from his body via his mouth after the phone call. Extremely annoying and loud...and disgusting. However, I was not alone in this. My colleagues mentioned hearing other people stumbling into rooms. There were even extremely drunk fans who beat on sleeping people's doors. No respect for those who were not here to watch the game.
This was a subdued story, the next was not so nice.

#2
There are several bars in the hotel, but the one in the lobby near my elevator has sushi, and I wanted something that would not be greasy. So I bellyed up to the bar and tried to get some Nigiri (Tuna preferably). Yesterday I wore black...not knowing that Texas Tech was playing Texas (and Tech's colors are red and black). Many people at the bar were wasted (the bartender told me that many people actually tailgate AT the hotel. Ok then). So, I'm sitting at the bar when I feel hands and an arm around my back. I don't really liked to be touched, so I jumped out of my seat and pushed away the arm of the person touching me.
It was a wasted gal wearing Texas gear.
"Oh my goood," she slurs. "I so thought you were my boyfriend. You look ssssso much like him."
Now, she didn't see my face, just my back and back of my head. I could have been...Alfred Molina for all she knows.
"I'm not him. Sorry," I reply.
As I sit back down, I hear the cry of the drunk, angry jock.
"What the fuck are you doing hugging my girlfriend?!"
I look over and see a large dude who looks very little like me except that he, too, has a goatee and has dark hair. Other than that, he's thinner, taller, more muscular, and drunker. He's also wearing a TON of Texas gear so his clothes are more of a burnt sienna/orange color. Again, I'm wearing black. If she had seen him earlier in the day, she would know this.
"She hugged me. She thought I was you," I reply and turn back to my food.
"What the fuck?" the Orange Incredible Hulk says to me and starts toward me.
"Dude, calm down and go be with your girlfriend," I say.
"That's it, fucker!" he screams at me. "We're gonna fight. Let's go outside, and I'm going to kick your Red Raider ass!"
"Fuck you," I reply. "I'm not fighting."
"You're gay! You're fucking homo," he yells back.
I bite back the line from Full Metal Jacket about steers and queers and move to the other side of the bar to pay my tab. I'm not fighting. If I get arrested, I'll never hear the end of it.
"You fucking fag!" Texas Tommy keeps screaming at me, "Get back here. I'm gonna fuck you up."
I look over and see his girlfriend trying to calm him down, but to no avail.

Now, the next few minutes are insane. Texas Tommy is still yelling and being asked to be quiet. I'm trying to get away as I don't want to say something to set this guy off, and there are a ton of people watching this. As Hulk keeps yelling, some Texas Tech fan (actually wearing a Texas Tech t-shirt) says, "Why don't you stop yelling, you little bitch."
Hulk's eyes glow orange, and he flips the table in front of him out of the way so he can charge at the Texas Tech fan. Even the guy from Texas Tech was not expecting this. I wonder if he hoped that Texas Tommy would be pissed and attack me.
Remember when I said that there was a law enforcement convention? Well, there were armed officers here. This included a cop near the bar who had a taser. He yells at Texas Tommy to calm down and back off.
"Sir, don't move!" he yells, but Texas Tommy ain't listening.
The guy from Texas Tech actually runs behind the cop, who tells Texas Tommy to, again, stop.
The Incredible Orange Hulk is now going toward the cop who has warned him twice. Out comes the taser.
You can almost see the brain of Texas Tommy kick the alcohol to the side and yell, "Dammit, you fucker, we're in for a real shock now."
The eyes go wide as the taser is fired, and Texas Tommy hits the floor.
At this point, I put a little sping in my step just in case.
Fun times.

As for the training... well, I'm not getting anything new. The teacher is a wonderfully nice guy from Vancouver, but even he said to me today that I am way ahead of the people in my class. I actually finished my group's unit plan today because I wanted to get done. Though I love my job, I just don't understand how taxpayer money can go this. I could have done this in Minnesota...online...for cheaper. Oh well. At least I got a nice walk in the garden.

Namaste.

Goodbye Old Friend

Goodbye to possibly my favorite cartoon character of all time.

When I was kid, Bloom County was my favorite Sunday comic. I didn't always get the jokes ("Who's Gregory Peck?" I used to ask my sister), but Opus, Bill, Portnoy (who I thought was named after the novel), and Binkley always did something I could understand. That is the genius of Berkeley Breathed: his comics are funny on multiple levels. Many were political, but you could still appreciate the humor without knowing who the heck Jeane Kirkpatrick is. It helps, but it isn't necessary.
In one of the happiest moments of my life, I went to a used bookstore where I stumbled upon a signed copy of the first Bloom County collection. I still have it, and though he is nortorious for being very private, I hope I can actually thank him in person one day.

Opus gets a good ending. He's tucked into bed in what is Lando's favorite book: Goodnight Moon.

In the end, the Bloom County creator tied his work to the Humane Society in order to help protect animals. If you look at his work, you'll see how much he cares about animals and their treatment. There was even a contest for the last strip. And it makes sense. Make sure you take care of the animals, because of the joy they have brought you.

So thank you, Mr. Breathed. Opus got a happy ending, which I'm happy about. I'm sad that the strip is ending, but if you right more books like Mars Needs Moms, I will be very happy to keep reading them to my son.

Happy trails, Opus.

Namaste.

Training in Dallas...

Day 1.

A tourist. I should have been preparing for the training, but I was a tourist. The group I am with couldn't check in for a few hours, so we headed to the Sixth Floor Museum in Dallas. The museum is fascinating. The audio tour takes you through who JFK is, the fateful day in Dallas, and the conspiracy theories. It's incredible.

After a quick stop at a steakhouse (where I learned one of my colleagues with me can't look at taxidermy...because it scares her), we moved to the hotel.

The hotel, the Hilton Anatole, is what would happen if the Mall of America added on a hotel. A few rooms to sleep in surrounded by overpriced stores. My colleague actually bought a $2.00 bottle of Diet Coke today. Candy was also a $1.50...for the little bars.
It's usually a bad sign when the hotel gives out a fold-out map when you check in. Want to go to the sculpture garden? Go past the elephants, around the five different bars, and go outside to the other side of the compound. Ok, maybe it's not that bad, but it's close.
My room looks like the 1970s flew to Japan...and threw up. Orange everywhere.

Incidentally, the sculpture garden is the best part of the whole place. There's a quiet Koi pond where the sun shines and the grass is soft. I took my shoes and socks off and frolic a little before meditating. Of course one yutz had to come over ask me what I was doing.
"Why'd you take your socks off? The ground is dirty."
My first thought was, "Really? That's a problem for you?" But that's not what I said. I merely said, "Because the grass feels good for my feet. Try it."
"Eww," he responds. "Not way. Your feet will get dirty. You're weird." And with that he returns to the path and walks away. No loss for me.

Dinner last night was an adventure. Literally. We headed over to Medieval Times because one of my colleagues really wanted to see it. First of all, it was $40 for each of us. Secondly, the "fabulous feast" we were promised was mislabeled. I have no problem eating with my hands, though one of my colleagues would remark, "Umm...if we were really eating with the king, we'd have untensils."
No, the problem was the food itself. The ribs we were promised turned into rib (singular), and it was all fat. The chicken was down and dirty greasy, which is fine, but it took several washings to remove the smell.
My biggest problem, however, was the show itself.

I'm spoiled when it comes to theatre. I know how the tech works, and I have worked with some amazing actors in the past. Not to be too mean, but the acting was kind of atrocious. Don't get me wrong, as horse trainers and stunt people, these guys are good, but they can't act.
The worst was Princess Leonore who sounded like a Disney princess who was constantly ready to burst into song...but she never did. Beyond that, she dropped into her obviously East Coast accent now and then. "Oh my prince...Dis is a moment I will never forget."

However, the guys were good at fighting and riding. My section was for the Blue Knight (no idea of the name). He had the best hair out there. It was nicer than the hair of most of the girls I know. At the end of the show, the knights come into the lobby and talk to the nobles (audience). I just walked up to him and gave him a hug. It freaked him out.
If I had one gripe for the knights, it would be the telegraphing. I know they have to as it's all routine, but it's weird to see a guy point where he's going to start. I can't imagine a real sword fight where the knight points at a guys arm and starts to attack him.

It may be a money maker, but you can tell that the actors who are part of the show (not the knights) hate their position.

Still, I recommend going to see it once just so you can experience it.

As for the training itself...well...so far it's all lecture of things I already knew. Not really helpful.

We'll see if it improves.

Verily until then, my lords and ladies...

Namaste.

Another Sad Day for Parenting

I missed Halloween, which kind of angers me to no end as I was really looking forward to talking Lando (now two years old) around the neighborhood. Instead I am in Dallas.

All is not lost, however. Last night was the Halloween Spooktacular Party ('til you drop dead) at my son's school. Indeed, we partied.
However the best moment of the night came during the dancing. The school hired a DJ so the kids could dance...and boy did these kids dance. Unfortunately, Poozer is not really a dancer yet. He's more of a jumper...in place...and then falling and laughing. Except..the other kids followed him.

Anyway, best moment. Lando is "dancing" and over comes Krista, another kid in his class. She is dressed as a cheerleader for the Vikings. It makes sense that she comes over as Little "IT" is dressed as a football player. Krista takes his hand and they jump/dance together. After the song ends, Krista turns and plants a gigantic kiss on Lando. Krista's mom, who had been all smiles until this point, sees this and screams across the room, "Krista...NOOOOOO!!!"

Needless to say, my wife and I were dying of laughter.

Little "IT" had no idea what to think. It was if he was in a daze from being kissed (a feeling his father knows all to well).

While I may not get this Halloween with him, at least I have something to hold as a memory of him enjoying it.

Tonight, he went Trick-or-Treating with his mom. He had a ton of fun I am told. The picture of him is with his friend Nicholas as they get ready to head out and get candy. He's a train engineer...for Thomas.

Happy Halloween and Namaste.

The Room's Still Spinning

This about sums it up today.

It's Oh So True

Because You Can't

You're not allowed to be anything but happy.

You're not allowed to fail.

You're not allowed to have an off day.

You're not allowed to be anything but funny and uplifting.

You're not allowed to pass on helping someone.

You're not allowed to miss.

You're not allowed to be a mystery and yet be completely open.

You're not allowed to stop and contemplate yourself.

You're not allowed to feel small.

Because you can't. Because too many people need you to be there.

Life goes on without you until someone needs you and then you must be there.

And there are no excuses.

You are not allowed to be human.

Because you can't.

A Question of Quacking

Contemplation of metaphysical questions is the best way to overcome any frustration. It focuses the mind. So, dear reader, I present to you a question that cleared my mind of many problems:

There is a bottle. It is a normal sized bottle with a wider bottom and a thin neck. Inside this bottle is a duck. A real, live duck. You cannot break the bottle, and you cannot kill the duck.

How do you get the duck out of the bottle?


Namaste.

Becoming the Metaphor

I fell from the grace
A quick rush to the concrete
perhaps this is fate
--------------------------------------------
I fell.
All it took was one wrong step, and gravity took over.

Many people talk about the slow motion of falling. How time slows down and it's like falling through space. This is only when you know the fall is coming. When you make a wrong step and the body and the mind are not ready for it, it's something completely different.

The fall happens in real time, but the brain takes a minute to catch up and process what just happened. It's almost like being an infant again. The child bumps his/her head and looks to mom and dad (or the people around it) as to how to react.
"There's this feeling...is it bad? Mom looks upset, so it's bad...annnnnnnnd cry."

There is a cage in the back of the theatre at the school where I work. On top of this cage is all of our wood and flats. I was up on top of the cage, alone, trying to get a flat down. The wood was strewn about and I should have cleared it up, but I was rushing and not thinking. This is the problem of no forethought...right Romeo? I need the door flat which I, in my infinite wisdom, have placed behind all the other flats. I have roughly four feet of depth to work with, and I start moving them to get to the door. Sounds like it isn't a problem, right? It wouldn't have been if I had been paying attention. I slid the first two flats out of the way and moved the door out and down. I turned to move the other flats back and my foot found nothing but air.

And in an instant I was on the concrete. It's weird that the pain wasn't instant. That, I'm pretty sure, has to do with knowing you're going to fall.

When you know something is going to happen, the body prepares you. The muscles tighten, the jaw clenches, and the mind goes into a form of hyperactivity. When you don't know, the body remains loose and the brain plays catch-up. I was the latter as I lay on the concrete. There were people near by, but do to the scene they were practicing in which they were screaming at each other, they didn't hear me. At first I was confused and out of breath. The fall knocked the wind out of me.

Your brain does something weird when you get hurt. While you are assessing your situation, you also drift. My mind started by telling me that I was out of breath, then I started thinking about the door flat and would it work. Next, I wondered if anything was broken in my body, which was followed by wondering if the wood or flats were broken. The final thought was of my son.

The final thought, however, was about the situation as a whole. I was alone. No one could help me and no one knew I was there. If something really bad had happened to me, I'm not sure anyone would have helped me. It was a non-crew day, and when the actors wrapped up, they left without going backstage. They never would have found me.

And thus, I became the metaphor. If something had happened...if I had been hurt badly, I would have been alone. I fell from grace on my own and was without help. I was the last leaf that fell before winter.
That's how we will inevitably be in the end. Alone.

We can be joyous and surrounded by those we love, but the journey is ours to take alone. And in the end, no one can help you but yourself.

I was lucky. Nothing is broken. I have a bruise and a limp, but I got the work done.

I fell, and in that moment, I realized that the hardest part of being an adult is no longer being able to have someone be there to pick you up.

Watch your step, dear reader, because this fall is more painful than the others.

Namaste.

I'm Waiting....

Some days I really am.