I want to improve my relationships around my friends and family everywhere. I have been bit distant to many in the past year mostly because of distance itself. I have missed a very many things including my sister’s wedding and my best man not being at my wedding – both of which were my fault and just poor timing. I want to help my friends whenever possible and be more on time with their needs. I want to be a better husband even though I would declare myself as pretty super awesome. If needs become that great I will even be the man who puts a gun to Stu’s head to make him shape up before I ship him out, permanently. See if you remember this threat Stu – BALLS-CUT-OFF.

I am in a good place right now; I just need to survive this winter as the low time of season sets in. The general malaise that creeps in as the weather becomes frightful and the celebration season comes to a close. I always seem to get low and hibernate within myself in this period, staving off people and work and it saps my drive to want to do work unless is required of me. If it is for self-growth, I won’t have the gumption to help myself out like that. I need to train myself into thinking that studying is like video games – every bit as frustrating but one cookie leads to the next, bit by bit I will become one of the best teacher’s out there. To do it I must be one of the smartest. This is done with only drive and passion. Passion I have but have been suppressing for years as to mellow myself out some, but now I thing I need to kick that flame back on and torch up what I need to do to make things happen.

This is not so much a New Year’s rant as I have never done such a thing and mostly it is just bullshit to say your going to do something starting on day one. This is something I have been lining up during the entirety of 2009 and everything is just now falling into place. It’s not the day, it’s the timing. My timing has vastly improved baring the aforementioned periods already mentioned, and it has all to do with my choices and the help and counseling of my closest friends and especially my wife. Growing up I always thought it would be cool to be married but never cared if it happened or ever sought out for it. I was retarded, because it has opened more doors for me than anything else in my life. It helps I found my match, she’s not perfect – she is so much better than that.

Last year was a year of motion, of change, of flux. This year is a year of strive and of growth. Help me keep on track this year Internet and do not lead me astray into the abyss, for that abyss is so much worse than hell. Even demons look upon 4chan and say, “At least we aren’t that bad!”

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So I’m making some changes.  I know that this is the time of year that people are supposed to do all their self-evaluating, it will be a new year, get a fresh start, blah, blah, blah.  That’s not what this is about.  This is about bettering myself and making a positive change (or changes) in my life.  I’m not really sure where I should start with all this so prepare yourself for this post to kind of jump around some.  Maybe the best thing for me to do is to state the changes and how they came about.  Maybe not, that sounds really boring to me.  Fuck it.

Here’s what happened  in a nutshell.  I met somebody.  Yeah, sounds stupid I know, and you need to make changes for yourself not someone else.  But that’s not really what I meant.  My meeting someone simply brought all my issues to the forefront of my conscious to slap me in the face and cause me to reevaluate what the hell I am doing with my life.  All these things were already there, I was just ignoring them as much as possible until now.  I may never see this person ever again or, if I do, nothing may come of our meeting relationship-wise but at least I am starting to get off my ass and do something different.  It doesn’t matter what happens between her and me.  That’s pretty much inconsequential at this point.  Ty says that I’m in a rut at this moment/time/place and he’s right.  So let’s start digging.

First of all, I need to quit smoking.  I started smoking almost sixteen years ago.  Sixteen years!  For someone that fears death as much as I do I sure am trying to get there a hell of a lot sooner than all my friends.  Don’t get me wrong, I love to smoke.  I love it.  I love to smoke and have a cup of coffee.  That’s the greatest thing in the world.  Even though I don’t really care about the health benefits I still need to quit.  It’s way too expensive and for somebody with the budgetary powers of a gnat, I simply can’t afford it anymore.  “Roll your own,” you might say to which I retort – fuck off.  I refuse to roll my own cigarettes.  If I had been willing to roll my own I would started doing it years ago when smokes became three dollars a pack.  i didn’t do it then and I won’t do it now.  Let’s be perfectly honest, smoking is a truly filthy habit.  have you ever walked out of a bar and had to wash your clothes because they smelled so bad (puking stories excluded of course). [There will be a section on bars later as well - pay attention, there is a quiz]  I’m tired of smelling like shit all the time.  And I want to do less laundry.

Secondly, I need to stop drinking as much soda.  Or pop depending on what part of the country you’re from.  At our annualy Un-Thanksgiving party this year  abuddy of mine had said that he lost almost ten pounds from not drinking pop.  I was amazed by this feat.  I drink a lot of pop.  At least a 24 ounce each day of Mt Dew.  That’s an extra 340 calories each day.  Now listen, I’m not fat, far from it.  I may even be a little under weight if anything but I do have a little bit of a beer gut.  I don’t like it.  I went to college with a guy built like me but shorter.  He had just as spindly legs and arms like I do, but a pooch.  It was gross.  I swore that I would never end up like that.  Oops, it almost happened.  I’m not sure how I caught it in time but I did, maybe the weather changed or something (amazingly I tend to lose weight in the winter probably because my job exposes me to the elements and it takes more calories to keep my body functioning at -3 than it does at 72).  Taking pop out of the equation just builds a little bit more cushion into the system.  Could I stand to lose ten pounds?  I don’t think so.  I would look emaciated but I still think I could trim up a little bit.

Third, I’m a pack rat.  I get it from my parents.  We never throw anything away.  I think it stems from them both working in the tax field where you have to keep records for like ten years.  So we have shit everywhere.  I’m a collector of various things – toys, comic books, statues, games, etc.  So this stuff just collects and collects and collects some more.  I’ve got comic books from two years ago that have not been bagged, boarded, or put away.  Some parts of my living area have (I shit you not) an inch of dust on it.  I used to think that I didn’t have people over because everytime that happened something of mine would get messed up and I like my stuff too mych for that to happen.  I have realized that I am really ashamed of the squalor that I live in so I don’t want anybody to see it.  Does that solve the problem?  Absolutely not, it makes it invisible to the outside world though which makes it easier for me to ignore and just sit down on the couch and watch TV.  How could I ever bring a girl back to my place and show her this?  Believe me, I’ve done it, and the fact that the girls didn’t run out screaming is a testament to how drunk and/or horny they were at the time.  I have purchased the appropriate supplies (boxes, bags, boards) to put the comics away and bought plastci bins to rotate some of the toys out from display and into storage to make room and unclutter the room.  now I just need someone to put a gun to my head, Pledge in my hand, and tell me to sort and clean or they will kill me.

Fourth (it is really possible to change all these things at one time – I hope that I’m not setting myself up for failure because this is one long ass post), cut back on the drinking.  Man, I love beer.  LOVE. BEER.  I would not say that I am an alcoholic although I have gone through some solids periods of constant drinking.  Really, I don’t drink often.  The problem becomes the amount that I drink when I do decide to imbibe.  I am a binge drinker, of that there is no doubt.  I can one or two beers and be fine but, usually, if I have any more than that, it is on.  I won’t stop until I am completely shitfaced.  And don’t even get me started on shots.  You know it’s bad when you’re bartender lines you up a beer and shot before you sit down.  Same bar, same people (generally good people mind you) but it’s always the same.  It needs to change.  I need to find a) something else to do on my weekend nigths and/or b) someplace else to do it at.  I would like to say “Thanks” to Ty for inviting me out to his house last night to watch movies (and yes, drink a couplebeers) as opposed to letting me go down to the watering hole and getting lambasted.  I would also like to point out that the whole time I was at the bar on Saturday night I had only one shot, it was at the end of the night, was purchased for me not by me, and was actually pretty weak.  Ah, change is good.  And I can always get drunk at home and not have to worry about getting a ride or driving home.  My last girlfriend kept telling me that I drank all the time simply because everytime she saw me I was drinking.  It’s kind of a misnomer to say that when you consider I only saw here on the weekends anyway.  I don’t drink during the week because I work midnights and there is something strange (to me at least) about getting pounded at five or six in the morning.  All my drinking is done on the weekends.  I always blew off her comments, but in retrospect, she had it partly right.  What I need to do is refocus my energy onto something else and away from the conception that I need to drink every Saturday and Sunday (since I work Friday nights).  Years ago, when I felt that I could go out and have a few beers every night, I came up with a system for breaking the cycle.  Every January, after New Years Day, I would quit drinking for thirty days.  Then I got on a schedule that precluded me from drinking on a regular day-to-day basis so I stopped doing it.  I could not figure out what the point was because I felt that I had nothing more to prove.  Maybe this New Year I will begin the practice again.  No more bar shots, and stay out of the Bar (we all know which one it is).

Fifth, and this may be the hardest one of all to change, I need a new job.  I truly believe that most, if not all, of the previously mentioned changes in behavior were initially or enabled by my current profession.  It’s terrible.  The actual job sucks, the hours suck, the fact that there is little to no weather protection sucks.  The only thing that makes the job even remotely worthwhile is the people that I work with.  The office guys are great, my boss is great, even my supervisor is “mostly great”.  About half of the night drivers are actually decent too.  The real problem comes from the upper management.  Really, if you know me at all, you know how I feel about my job.  I will say no more on that subject.

Sixth, I must continue and improve physically through exercise.  I have never been particularly fit but I have also never been particularly “big” either.  At my worst someone described myself as doughy.  I find working out to be a terrible but somewhat necessary chore.  Do I do it consistently?  Absolutely not.  I’m trying though.  I have too.  If you don’t go to the beach because you don’t want people to see you without your shirt then you have a problem, whether it’s because you have too much fat or because you have too little muscle.  The amount of time I spend sitting around doing nothing could be much better served by some form of exercise.  It’s a slow process, all these changes, but effort is what makes things rewarding.

Where did this come from?  As I said, I met somebody and by meeting this person I had to take a long hard look in the mirror.  I asked myself, “Would I ever consider dating me knowing all these things about myself?”  The answer was a definite no, I would not.  I can barely put up with myself so how could I possibly expect any other person to?  Perhaps, when this is all over, and assuming that I accomplish three or more of said changes, I will have the confidence to do something about aforementioned person.  If I ever see her again.  Also assuming she’s single.

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If you ever get to the point where you ask yourself a) could this be considered “stalking” or b) is it just me, or is this a little “creepy,” then the answer is a resounding “YES!” You are either stalking, cyber-stalking, or just plain being creepy and whatever action or thoughts you are contemplating should be dismissed immediately. And then you should punch yourself in the balls to further dissuade any more actions/thinking of that nature. You’re welcome wierdo.

*Disclaimer – the author has never had a situation like this occur to himself, this post is for informational purposes only, because he’s way too cool to be that stupid. Right?*

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That being said, I think it comes as no surprise to anybody that knows me that I am a jeans and T-shirt kind of guy.

In fact, unless I am going somewhere that requires a more formal attire or I am working outside in my Carhartts, I am always in my jeans.  I love ‘em.  Denim is the cat’s ass.  Levi’s are the shit.  For many years I wore only Silvertabs and nothing else.  As time wore on my old jeans began to wear out and, since I hate clothes shopping, I procrastinated getting any new pants.  I will not deny that the absurd cost of jeans was also a factor, especially for Silvertabs.

Finally came the day that I was forced to wander into my local JCPenny’s to find some jeans since I was down to two pair that I could still stand wearing.  I picked out three pair in three different styles, tried them on to make sure that they fit, bought them and went home.  Time in and out – less than fifteen minutes.  It was only after two or three washes that I realized my mistake.  You see, 32 length pants are too long for my legs, 30 length are absolutely perfect, until they shrink in the wash.  Then they become way too short.  So now, when I wear two of the three pair I am wearing high-waters.  I am forced to waer these jeans with my Chuck Taylor’s, as they can make any outfit look better and are high enough on the ankle to hide how short the pants are.  Unfortunately, my Chuck’s are about the most uncomfortable shoes I own, so to wear them for any period of time is a horrendous chore and exceptionally painful for my feet.  The last pair that I bought were 32 x 32 but “low & loose.” I like baggy pants (even though that trend was falling out of style at the time and appears to be completely gone at this point unless you’re into hip-hop).  Even after shrinking these jeans (not on purpose) I can still swim in them, in fact, you may even be able to fit two of me in them.  Even rolled up the cuffs drag on the ground when I walk around.  To summarize, I spent $150 on pants that were either too small or to big.  Kudos to me, I’m a genius.

So two years pass before that I really need to get some new jeans.  I was determined to get it right this time.  In and out at JCPenny’s – forty-five minutes.  I actually tried on at least six different pairs and made sure that I checked different lengths.  I didn’t get anything too baggy (as a more “fitted” look in more in style now) and made sure that all the jeans were just a little too long for me to compensate for shrinkage (“I was in the pool!”).  I bought three really good pairs of jeans and was very proud of myself.  Success, I’m a genius.

And then…

I decided to wear one of my new pairs of pants.  Probably the most “fitted” pair of the three that I purchased.  Remember that I said that they all fit really well?  Yeah, well I one thing that I didn’t do when trying on these three pairs was make sure that all my shit fit into the pockets.  I carry a lot of shit – gum, lighter, smokes, change, keys, chapstick, and a wallet that would make George Costanza uncomfortable.  I couldn’t get my wallet in my back pocket.  It wouldn’t budge.  Would not budge!  I was forced, to my dismay, to perform some wallet frontier surgery to make it fit, barely.  I won’t go into the sordid details, but it wasn’t pretty for my poor wallet, nor for my own packrat tendencies.  And let me tell you, getting my cigarettes or keys out is a timely process as well.  Sonabitch, I’m a retard.

To summarize, in the past four years I have learned rules for jeans shopping:

1.  Always buy just a little long to compensate for shrinkage, and

2. When trying on jeans, make sure all the stuff you carry around normally will fit in your new pants

I’m sure when I buy new jeans in another two years I will make some other massive mistake that will prove to be another lesson to add to the New Pantsies Conundrum.

As an interesting side note, someone told me the other day that it looked like I was losing weight.  I took this as quite the compliment, but later considered that maybe it was just the fact that I am wearing more fitting and less baggy pants.  Does it really matter?  Being thin or looking thin accomplish the same thing.  Don’t they?

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I came upon this realization while I was packing my toiletry bag.  You know, that little bag for your deodorant and toothpaste and Q-tips and cologne and other assorted shit?  Yeah, that one.  Well, that’s where I keep my condoms.

I don’t really get laid that much so I don’t really carry them around with me on a daily basis and one time the opportunity did present itself.  Since I didn’t have any condoms I did not get laid (again).  It was at that point that I started putting my condoms in my toiletry bag and keeping that bag in the trunk of my car.  I did this for almost two years I think and in that two years, no further sexual opportunities of that nature presented themselves so I threw the toiletry bag back in my bathroom closet.

Anyway, as I was packing my toiletry bag I saw my condoms in there.  I thought that I could leave them in there but why?  My girlfriend (at the time) wasn’t coming with me and we weren’t having sex anyway so what would be the purpose of taking condoms?  I wasn’t planning on having sex with anybody else so why bring them?  I decided to take them out and put them in a drawer.  As I removed the condoms I noticed the expiration date.  Yes, you guessed it, my rubbers had expired.  Aren’t condoms good for like five years?  How pathetic do you have to be for your rubbers to go bad on you?  How empty does your life have to be when you can’t even get through a whole box of condoms (6 or 12 count, it really doesn’t matter) in five fucking years?

So there you have it.  As shitty as your life is right now, at least you get laid more often than I do.  How’s that for a silver lining?

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The song was “Dare” by Stan Bush.  For those of you that don’t know, the song was featured on the animated Transformers movie.  I don’t know about anybody else but that was my favorite move for so long.  I had actually “convinced” my parents that I had to see it so that I would understand the cartoon (which was now using the movie continuity the sneaky bastards)  How could you go wrong with that movie?  The death of Optimus Prime (and countless other guys that you loved), the rebirth of Megatron as a more powerful villian. Orson Welles as Unicron, and the transformation (no pun intended – really, don’t beat me up) of Hot Rod into the new leader of the Autobots, Rodimus Prime?  The movie had everything, even curse words!  How cool is that?  Yeah, the music is a “little” 80’s, and by a little I mean overflowing with it, but so what?  It was the 80’s.

 I had briefly mentioned how much I loved the songs from the movie to the last girlfriend I had while in college, Jenny was her name.  Man, I have dated way too many Jennys.  We have our little couple Christmas shindig and lo and behold, she has somehow dug up the soundtrack from some bargain bin at Sam Goody or other specialty store that the Best Buys have all but made extinct.  I was so touched and amazed by her attention to the littlest comment that I had made months earlier that I then totally felt like a douchbag for the thoughtless gift I had given her.  Man, I really treated her like garbage and she didn’t deserve it, but that’s the funny thing about karma – it comes around.

So that song comes on my Zune (quit laughing) and I shit you not, I listened to it the rest of the way home.  Over and over again.  One little CD will go down in the history of my life as being the greastest gift I have ever received.

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My first cassette tape was the Footloose Soundtrack.  I got it when I was 8 years old with a boombox stereo that I would take into the bathroom with me every night when I took a shower.  I would get “Kaloose, Footloose!” in the bathtub over and over again, then it was “Dancin’ in the Sheets” (didn’t get that one until much later), and all the favorites from the movie.  I must have worn out that tape and it is still somewhere locked up in a box in the basement somewhere.  I downloaded and listened to it again just for the cheese factor, and although it is most decidedly 80’s it holds the test of time for me.  My tastes are definitely skewed on the matter, but I still like most of the album.  It taps right into my youth and it was just fun and vibrant.

By time I got into my teenage years I received my first portable cd player.  It took 2 AA batteries and I would be lucky to have it go through an entire album before it disposed of those meager batteries.  With that cd player I got for Christmas when I was 12 was a few albums, one of them being Def Leppard’s “Hysteria” jamming some “Pour Some Sugar on Me”, another was Bon Jovi (I was in love with the 80’s music…   still am).  But the first album I actually bought was soon after as said in an earlier post, Pearl Jam.  That is what truly introduced me into the 90’s alternative scene and never looked back after that.  Always moving forward and looking back to the past for things new and those things I missed the first time.

So there you go.  Rip on me at will, but look back to your middled past – especially you girls (don’t tell me you didn’t all have a thing for New Kids!) and tell me what started music for you.

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As I said, they were playing some R&B loved lost song.  Then as I reached for the Sierra Mist (they were out of Vernors) the song “Alive” by none other than the once legendary Pearl Jam began to play.  From the heroes of my youth to the mid-range spike of the mysterious mono-speakers that came out of the drop ceiling above.  The feeling became worse as the song played as it began to sound like all other songs computer-picked to play in the supermarket aisles.  The rage, the pain, the fire of the song had somehow been removed and replaced with ease, with peace, with commerce.

Pearl Jam’s ‘Ten’ album is not only one of my all-time favorite albums, it was the first compact disc I purchased for myself the very year it came out.  Of course they were already were quickly becoming the legends  of Seattle, but here in the Michigan, the heart of the mid-west, we didn’t get that sort of word until six months after it happened.  It was the first time I was ahead of the curve – and not because it was the popular thing to do – but because it said something to me.  It helped me vocalize my inner angst, my suppressed emotions, and helped me to give wings to those demons trapped inside.  It taught me to not bottle up my emotions, but to express it out and lash back unto the world that had wroth me.  For better or for worse, it helped keep me from imploding upon myself.

The world continues to change and so do I.  I have not listened to the album ‘Ten’ for quite some time.  I have moved on to different emotions, different personalities, different tastes.  Yet it still remains as one of personal greats.  I had not realized that the world has changed quite so much in 18 years from something to be subversive to quaint.  Much can be said with popularization, or maybe it’s just old hat.  Maybe once the shock value wears off it is all light rock, but I do not hold to that account.  When the hell has someone gotten angry at a band for a song that they sung and not for what they had done?  Have we become so numb that the power of the words, the rhythm of the guitar, and the beat of drum have lost their true meaning?  Has iTunes made music so saturated that we cannot see the drops of water from the ocean?  So many questions, so many possibilities, and all of them very disturbing and depressing.

I realize now that I am talking about a song that was made 18 years ago in a garage in Seattle.  Hell, it probably even qualifies as a type of classic rock.  Is this what it means when we used to say, “Parents just don’t understand”?  No, it isn’t.  There isn’t any protest in music anymore except for the ones to have been protesting for the last 30 years like Bruce Springsteen.  Where’s the cults, the trend makers, the anti-conformists?  Ah, that’s right – being an anti-conformist puts you into another group of conformity.  There is nowhere in music for you to think for yourself.  They are all trendlines and graphs and popular this week.  And now the trendlines say it is quite alright to bludgeon  one of best albums to come out of the last decade and have people shop for Pampers diapers, Monster energy drink, and tampons whilst listening to Pearl Jam washed out.

If it had even been converted to Muzak I would have been alright with that – even chuckled at that version, but they had to take out the base and make it a treble monster like an old Ford radio.  The error in our ways is clear.  The end is nigh.  Judge at your free will, please – and take your ears back and give that music you listen to passion once again.

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Many years ago I worked for a residential building company.  I was essentially a glorified trashman, picking up the houses when the various construction  stages were finished.  One of my coworkers was in a punk band and he invited me to come and see one of his shows.  He modeled his band after the Jesus Lizard, which is an aquired taste for anyone.  But I respected and liked the guy so I went anyway and got a couple of my friends to come out to the original Small Planet.  His band finished their set and some of friends left to go do something else but Gary and I stuck around to hear the headliner. We figured we had paid five bucks we might as well check them out, and if they sucked, well then we could just leave.

We ordered another round and we were shooting the shit when the band began to play.  Gary and I had a moment where we looked at each other and we both turned to look at the stage.  The music was fast, loud, and infectious.  The members of the band all looked like rejects from the 50s, but they could play!  I thought to myself – is this punk music?  I have been missing out on this for how long? It spoke to me and it made me realize what a close-minded bastard I had been up til that point in my life.  I had always thought of punk music as music for the untalented who made up in attitude what they lacked in skill.  Then my eyes were opened by Eight Ball Grifter.

Needless to say, we stayed until the end of the show and promptly started following the band around and I started buying punk music in droves.  I have never looked back.  Punk music has become an integral part of my life.  Eight Ball Grifter was essential in that becoming.  The band has helped shape me as a person.  For that I owe them thanks (and a “claw”).  I wish that their lives had not taken the directions it did, which caused their break up.  But that is the way of things.  All good things must end.  All things must end.  There is no getting around that.

I find it amazing that I have come to that realization at this point in my life.  Many bands that I have been a fan of have passed – not the least of which is Eight Ball Grifter.  It makes you wonder about the longevity of any band and why.  Why do bands like Eight Ball, EiB, Tsunami Bomb break up and bands like Fall Out Boy and Nickelback have continued success when they obviously suck?

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