Day 41: Music Is My Master

If you are the type of person who wanted to do me harm, the worst thing you could do is ban music from my existence. I'd go mad sooner than later.

I can't remember a time when music wasn't one of the most important, if not the most important, factors in keeping me breathing. Music means so much to me, it's impossible to capture it in words. I literally can't focus on just one aspect for more than a few seconds without my mind racing down a thousands different related roads.

I realize I'm no different than a bazillion other people who rely on music (probably too much) for happiness and strength and peace of mind and more, but music is beyond a personal experience to me. Always has been. I've listened to it, played it, written it, reviewed it, watched it performed, dreamed about it, missed it, taken it for granted, shared it, believed in it, and treasured it.

One of my greatest achievements has been passing my appreciation and love of music on to my kids. They have wonderful taste, and I know that each of them will always have music in their lives. I see how they depend on it and seek it out and sink into it. I witness how they explore it in order to arrive at their our choices. It really is a beautiful thing to see. Better, it's a beautiful bond to be able to share. Music will always tie us together, and how could I not be anything but thankful for that?

I love when people ask me who my favorite band is. It also perplexes the hell out of me. There are some bands that will consistently make the Top 10, but my answer could change 10 times within the same minute. One day it's The Replacements. The next it's The Pixies. Then there's The Band or Duke Ellington's Orchestra or early Stones or Rage Against The Machine or Public Enemy or Wu Tang Clan or The Flying Burrito Brothers and so on.

Nailing down a favorite all-time song is impossible. Some days I'd say Van Morrison's "Sweet Thing" tops my list. Then's there Dylan's "Idiot Wind" or any one of a dozens others from him. One hour it's The Replacements "The Regular" or "Skyway," while the next it's Willie Nelson's "Angle Flying Too Close To The Ground." Listening to any song by Son House or Ralph Stanley would leave me content for the rest of time.
The wedding songs my wife and I picked were "Wrecking Ball" by Neil  Young and "Carrying A Torch" by Van Morrison, and those both could top my list.

More than any other facet of life, music has been the most important. It's been the foundation for about every emotion I've ever felt. It's motivated me. Soothed my soul. Changed my way of thinking. Educated me. Enlightened me. Drown me in sorrow. Pulled me in directions I couldn't imagine having gravitated to otherwise. It's amazed me, disappointed me, and maddened me. It's disciplined me and fought for me.

The single greatest thing I ever did for myself was teach myself how to play guitar. It opened countless doors to appreciating and understand music in new ways.

The greatest influence on me musically has been Bob Dylan.

I've lost count of the number of people I've seen concerts with, but I can't be more thankful for how music put me in the same space with so many people sharing a common experience.

Elvis, Muddy Waters, Son House, Johnny Cash, Miles Davis, Jerry Garcia, Ralph Stanley, Keith Richards, Stevie Ray Vaughn, and so many others have been like fathers to me.

If I could only listen to one type of music for the rest of time, it would be traditional blues.

The first album I bought with my own album was "Cum On Feel The Noize" by Quiet Riot.

I wore out my copy of "Purple Rain" sometime around 1990 and had to buy another.

My daughter was named in honor of Ella Fitzgerald.

I've listened to Dylan's "Blood On The Tracks," The Replacements "Tim," and John Coltrane's "Love Supreme" probably more than any other albums.

I prefer albums, but I am a man of the digital age.

Every member of my family but my four-year-old has a copy of Lucinda Williams' "Car Wheels On A Gravel Road," and I'm proud that I introduced them to it.

Lucinda Williams with The Bottle Rockets was about as much fun as I've had at a show and sharing it with my wife is one of my favorite memories.

Pop music is the only music I don't like.

50s garage rock is the best music to dance to.

I love Tito Puente.

I love Cuban music.

Bruce Springsteen is as good now as when I saw him in 1984. "Jungleland" gives me chills every time I hear it.

Ricki Lee Jones makes me swoon.

Elvis' "Suspicious Eyes" is genius. Graceland should be a mandatory visit for every human being.

Buddy Guy makes me smile without playing a note.

I've had a crush on Joan Jett for a long time.

My heart goes bonkers every time I'm in the midst of a great record collection.

I saw KISS on the first tour they did after the makeup came off. "Lick It Up" indeed.

It breaks my heart more people haven't reveled in John Prine.

Fleetwood Mac's "Rumors" is a wonderful album, and I don't care who says different.

I firmly believe that The Valley High School pep band playing Rick James "Superfreak" in 1985 before our basketball game was a sign from god that life is to be enjoyed.

I wish I was more like Steve Earle, Merle Haggard, Buck Owens, and Leonard Cohen.

Husker Du makes me want to fight.

I've exchanged email with Henry Rollins on a few occasions, and each time he responds I feel like a school girl in love.

I have a strong appreciation for Slayer, Metallica, and Pantera.

Lyle Lovett is a good man.

Last night I did the dishes listening to Warren Zevon.

I have to stop now. Life is calling, otherwise I could do this all day.

Music is my master, and I'm a willing servant.

Day 40: The F Word

I’ve been thinking about the F-word this morning for some reason, probably because it’s been flowing out of the mouths of the people seated around me fairly frequently. It’s strange because the F word is probably my favorite word of all. Love its versatility. Love its force. Love its simplicity. I even love the controversy it manages to conjure up in countless ways. There are few other words one can shape and mold and make fit into virtually any situation, and I can’t think of too many situations where the F word can’t find a home. Beyond “Love,” it’s hard to think of another four-letter word with as much universal functionality, and there are some powerful four-letter words out there (hope, kind, stop, hurt, etc.) Still, I’ve been bothered to hear it this morning, and I can’t figure out why.

If you know me well, you know my fondness for dropping the f-bomb fast and furiously—in safe company and in certain settings, that is. Back in the good ole’ days of playing softball or slapping paint on walls all day or just about any other situation where decorum wasn’t mandatory the f-word was a staple of my vocabulary. Hell, who am I fooling? The word became a staple back on the playground. If I had a quarter for every time I’ve uttered “f*ck,” I could build a temple to worship the word at.

I like to think, though, that I’m fairly responsible about where and when I use it, although there have definitely been times when I spoke the word, saw the reaction in the eyes of those near me, and instantly regretted it. I used to promise myself that I’d never say the word in front of my kids. I haven’t entirely lived up to that  promise, but more often than not I do pretty well. Even if I’m talking with my 19-year-old, I cringe when it comes out of my mouth. Rationally, I know he’s 19, he’s heard a lot worse, and I’m fairly certain it doesn’t even faze him. I know it doesn’t faze him to say the word to me, something that also makes my cringe. Still, there’s something unsavory about when I do it, and I feel a little less responsible and dignified and appropriate when it happens.

My problem where the F-word is concerned is that I have several nonsensical standards where its usage is concerned. These standards literally make no sense, yet for some reason I can’t shake them. For example, I’ve said the words plenty of times to friends during personal conversations while at work, but when I hear other people doing it, my radar goes off and an alarm sounds. “That’s not cool,” I’ll think to myself. “Save that f*cking” stuff for somewhere else.” I guess “discrepancy” is really the word I should be concentrating on. “Hypocrite” might be a good one, too. It also pains my ears to hear certain women say the word, another double-standard that I can’t make a good argument for but have tried to unsuccessfully on more than one occasion, only to wind up sounding and feeling as dumb as my argument is. “Women are too sophisticated to use that word.” “It takes away from a woman’s beauty.” “It just doesn’t sound right.” Yeah, all BS, I know.

Despite my prevalence for starting and ending sentences with “f*ck,” I’ve respect for and admire people who don’t use the word. I imagine this is due to their personal tastes, just like my own. I also imagine there are moral or decency purposes attached, as well. I’ve heard more than one person, for example, argue that they won’t “resort” to using that word or any other curse word, and I understand the reasoning. I could go as far and even say I agree. There’s a certain four-letter word some idiots refer to women by that no one should use or try to defend. Still, I don’t consider my use of the F-word as “resorting” to anything. I choose to use it. 

In spite of my confused reasoning and hypocrisy, just saying this one word can lift my spirits or fill me full of needed motivation or inspire confidence or allow me to express the shock or awe or reverence I’m feeling. To this day, I take great delight in hearing or seeing the word used in ways I haven't previously. Think you have a creative use? Drop it on me. I may or may not be offended. 

Day 39: The Power Of Facebook

It’s a little known fact is that I have two blogs, this one and “Slimfast Buddha Live Here”. It’s a little known fact because so few people have read the posts I've made on “Slimfast Buddha.” (The blog's name alludes to a nickname a friend gave me to pay tribute to my love of all things Zen and the fact that after a few surgeries years back, I was frightfully thin. Zen + Skinny = Slimfast Buddha.) 

I posted my first blog entry at “Slimfast” in May 2006, shortly after our dog Miles died. That entire post amounts to: Long Live Miles The Great, the king of all dogs and his snoring, big tail-exploring, problem-ignoring big bad heart. Not a day . . . Miley. Not a single day . . .” 

(God, I miss that dog.)

That same day I also wrote about our new dog Slim: This dog, Slim, he follows me around all day like I'm his dad or something. I tell him I have three kids to keep my eyes on already, but he sees my bluff. He's a smart dog, being just a pup. I bet if he was a boy, he'd be a ladies man. He's smooth and good looking with these steely blue eyes, and he's cocky-sure. I like his style most days, but he's relentless. One-track mind dog. Dogs are pretty cool, though. Good teachers, too. Slim's teaching me about confidence. Pure-breed little bastard.

A lot has changed since then. I now have four kids, and it turns out that Slim wasn’t nearly as smart as I thought he was going to be. In fact, he's not too bright at all. Further, he didn’t teach me nearly as much about confidence as I anticipated. Our cats push him around all the time. 

What hasn’t changed is Miles is still a major influence in my life, and few people visit “Slimfast Buddha.” Although I had big (but probably naive) plans for “Slimfast,” it never became what I envisioned. As the years slipped by, I wrote less and less, and before I knew it, the blog had pretty much become little more than a poor excuse for a journal that I more or less neglected. Still, I’m fond of it and appreciate the intention and effort I initially put into it.

I may be reaching here, but what I find really interesting about the two blogs and the two dogs are the correlations one could draw if so inclined, and I am. Miles and Slim are both dogs, but they came along at far different times in my life and mean different things to me. Similarly, “Slimfast” and “Absopositively” are both blogs, but they hold very different meaning. “Slimfast” is like Miles, an old friend I’ll always have a strong connection with. “Absopositively” is like Slim, a work in progress that continually morphs before my eyes. I don’t know where either will end up, but I know it will be interesting. Both blogs have also been influenced by Facebook, but in far different ways. 

“Slimfast” was created in the pre-Facebook age when “social” and “media” were words few people put one in front of the other. Back then a blog was social media. A blog was the long-form equivalent of Twitter. A blog was your Facebook page. Today, it’s safe to say Facebook has pretty much supplanted “blogging” for the Average Joe.  

I've written about technology roughly 15 years, I’ve been lucky to see things like Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Flickr, and other sharing sites in their infancy, often while they were still in beta and only a select few were privy to using them. I wrote about Facebook, for example, nearly two years before the world started to notice and its popularity exploded. I had no idea the impact it would have. The impact has been huge.

On a personal level, I’ve experienced Facebook’s impact via these blogs. Sometime late this week or early next, for example, “Absopositively” will pass “Slimfast” in the total number of page views it amassed. Again, I started “Slimfast” in 2006. I started “Absopositively” about 40 days ago. I attribute the disparity in numbers entirely to Facebook, and I view Facebook's impact as  positive. 

I’ve always been hesitant to share personal writing with close friends, let alone anyone with Internet access. Hence, I made little to no effort to share "Slimfast." For better or worse, though, writing is the best way I know how to communicate. Thus, the concerted decision and effort to share “Absopositively” because I want to step into the light a bit more, make a decided effort to examine that part of myself I've never been pleased with, and dare to share what I discover while simultaneously learning from the people who read and respond.  

I have no idea what value there ultimately is in having a blog or what value those who read it might obtain. I do know Facebook and social media has made sharing what I write incredibly easy and convenient and exposed me to all types of creativity, wisdom, knowledge, insight, and varying views from all types of people I otherwise wouldn’t have had easy access to. I’ve truly been enlightened on a few occasions, entertained on many others, and always interested. 

There is power in Facebook. I’m thankful I’m allowing myself to tap into it, both to learn more about the people I value and to learn more about myself.  

Day 38: Little Debbie, I'll Always Remember You Fondly

I’m not ashamed to say I’m a follower of Little Debbie’s Facebook fan page. My wife and a few friends have teased me for years about my fascination and infatuation with Little Debbie. Their barbs and jabs don’t bother me, though. They don’t sting or bruise. Little Debbie is so lovely and delicious nothing could ruin our love affair. Nothing could come between us. Nothing could put up a wall between me and sweet, sweet Debbie.

Well, nothing but an ever-growing realization that I’m not 19 any longer, and I can’t hop out of bed and hit the ground running, and that I have a four-year-old to chase around all day, and I have a 14-year-old who is getting better at basketball than me, and that my belt size is rapidly approaching my IQ. There are those things I suppose. And I guess I should add to the list that while Little Debbie will always be in my heart, but she’s also causing it to beat a little less efficiently with every tasty damn bite.

Yeah, I can’t ignore the facts any longer: Little Debbie, as good as you’ve been to me, as much as I love the way you look and taste, and as many good memories as we’ve shared over the years (including that time I ate a whole box of you with a warm Bud Light chaser), it’s time we go our separate ways.  You’ve other lives to wreck. I’ve my own life to prolong.

Despite not feeling all that positive, this is a positive move. I’ve been trying to make more of these of late--with varying success. For example, my pledge to quit drinking Coke (for political and environmental reasons) is still intact months later. At one time, there was more Coke in my veins than blood, so I’m proud of this achievement. On the other hand, my pledge to stop ladling sugar into my coffee in the morning was an undeniable failure. I guess I was compensating for the Coke withdrawal. Overall, though, I’ve realized for some time that if I’m going to make it long enough to see my kids make it to their 40s and then revel in watching them having to sacrifice their own vices, I better get in gear and take better care of myself.

I’ve often pondered why I don’t eat better and exercise more. The latter is easy. I played sports from the day I could practically walk, and I’ve remained active since. I can’t run a marathon, but I get by pretty well for a 44-year-old. Still, the cracks are started to show, and I can’t ignore the power of time and gravity much longer. As for eating better, that’s more difficult. One of my theories for my poor food choices is that I gravitate to what tastes good but also what’s not good for me. Subconsciously, I think I’ve used cupcakes and candy bars and so on as a reward system. Facing a difficult day at work for the 100^th day in row? Well, a nice cream-filled roll ought to perk me up. Three conference calls this morning and two more deadlines to meet by 3 p.m.? A nice, unhealthy fast food lunch ought to satisfy the soul. Three loads of laundry, supper to make, kids to take to practice, etc. after work? A heavenly bowl of ice cream should take the edge off.  

Well, the time to wise up has long passed. The time for action is here. Little Debbie, you beautiful, amazing girl, I’ll miss you. We were good together, but it wasn’t meant to last. Now, go on. You’ll meet someone new. He’ll make you happier than I can. 

Day 37: Let Love Rule

A violation of civil rights for gays and lesbians. That's what a federal appeals court had to say Tuesday concerning Prop. 8, the would-be California ban on same-sex marriage the court declared unconstitutional. Let's says that again. Unconstitutional. Unconstitutional. Unconstitutional.

OK, let's get something clear upfront: I find these kinds of developments that specifically put same-sex relationships in a favorable light incredibly positive. They leave me hopeful that more and possibly complete acceptance are ahead for us. They move us along to being a better society. They open the doors to expose the lies and tainted information too many people have thrown around for too long. These developments also expose those who have been negatively affected by such legal attempts for the real, decent, everyday people they actually are. Developments like these shed more light on the moronic darkness that’s lingered over our heads far longer than I care to remember or know. If the U.S. Supreme Court should rule similarly to the federal appeals court potentially sometime next year, I’ll feel just as ecstatic then as I do now.

By now you've gleaned my position on same-sex marriage, and it’s unwavering.

Now, if you don’t feel the same way, feel free to stop reading (if you already haven’t). Nothing I’ll say or do is going to change your way of thinking, and you’re not going to sway mine. I’m not even going to try. It would be a waste of time and energy, and I would probably only end up insulting your intelligence and mine in trying to do so. If, on the other hand, your position still wavers and you haven’t arrived at your ultimate position yet, I encourage you to keep searching for the truth, as well as searching your soul and whatever levels of compassion that exist within you.

But if you never investigate the issue one step more, that’s your journey. If you’ve already arrived at your permanent position, we can just part ways now. We don’t even have to pretend that we respect each other's opinions or that we can agree to disagree. The truth is, although I respect your right to express it, I don’t respect your opinion where this issue is concerned. And I can’t foresee a time when I can agree to disagree about it. With the utmost respect, you are not on my radar where this topic is related. I’m simply not interested in the same tired, nonsensical BS that's already been spouted, and I'm not interested in standing still and pretending change isn't required or warranted.  

I am interested in the encouragement I feel when witnessing children operate with open minds and hearts where sexuality is concerned. I’m interested in seeing parents who accept their children for who they are and what they do on a daily basis, not what gender they happen to fall in love with.  What I’m interested in is churches that allow anyone to practice their faith, not judge who is worthy and who is not by whom they kiss goodnight at the end of the day. I’m interested in happiness and love and where the two meet. I don’t care about your protests or objections or fairy tales concerning immorality or sin that are created to divide. There’s been too much of that for too long. I’m interested in progress and acceptance. I'm interested in cohesiveness. Healing. 

I know you have your opinion of me and anyone else who doesn't uphold the sacrilege of marriage as you see it.  I absopositively don’t care.  

Day 36: The Small Things

Today I was reminded of the type of person I tend to like the most: The guy who doesn't ask for much in his life but is rewarded with lots of great little things when he deserves it. I really like the guy who goes through life as pleasant as possible, looking for the good in things, and just minding his business. I like the guy who doesn't demand anything of others he's not willing to demand of himself. And even then, he's not the kind of guy who is going to demand anything anyway. I like the guy who looks forward to small things because they generally make him happy. I like the guy who doesn't need constant stimulation or higher meaning or greater purpose. He just needs what is right in front of him. He just needs simplicity. He just need a few minutes to look around, appreciate what he sees, and carry on. I really, really like this kind of guy. And today I was reminded of one. I really would like to be that kind of guy someday.