Our Song or the Lack Thereof

We never had a song
One that we could dance to if only in our memories
But we never really slow danced either
No awkward shuffling of feet, togetherness, and laughter
Yet even now - many years later - bereft of thoughts of sappy romance
I hear a song and wonder if somewhere in the infinite possible dimensions...



We were dancing
And this was our song.

My Christmas Story... redone for 2010

I have to admit Christmas isn't my favorite holiday. It seems that the real meaning is lost in the hustle and bustle of whatever it is the stores wants us to believe....and I hate hustling and bustling... and stores.

It's like we've never heard the real story of Christmas, or we've forgotten it somewhere down the road.

So I post this thing every year to remind myself why the end of December is important. Maybe it'll remind you, too. If my interpretation seems too whimsical, you might need a little dose of Christmas spirit. So, relax. Pour yourself a drink...and listen to this story:


...in a land far far away... a child was born...



... in a manger in Bethlehem.

But this was no ordinary baby. He was so awesome that righteous men

... before him predicted his birth.

Isa:7:14: 'Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.'

Isa:9:6: 'For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counseller, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.


So, away in a manger no crib for a bed the little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head...'

But the story has a dark side. King Herod of Judea was well aware of the coming of the 'King of Kings' and wasn't too keen on the idea.

So he dispatched three wisemen...

...to find this Prince of Peace so he could pay his 'respects'. Unfortunately, the King Herod's definition of respect was 'to kill in a timely fashion.'

So the three Magi followed the star....

(Isa:60:6: 'The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Midian and Ephah; all they from Sheba shall come: they shall bring gold and incense; and they shall shew forth the praises of the LORD.')

...and they found the Christ child and offered him gifts.

...but in those days the best they had was gold, frankincense and myrrh...

Fortunately, they were warned in a dream about King Herod's evil plan to kill Jesus... So they 86-ed the plan to report back to him thus allowing Jesus to go forth and inspire millions upon millions to follow in his footsteps.

Some people like to point out that Jesus may not have been born on December 25th. Some may even point out that Christmas has been over commercialized and has lost its true meaning.

But I'd much rather spend my time hanging out with friends and family.





...Because despite our differences in doctrines, opinions, and location...




Despite your views on Santa Clause...

...eggnog

Despite all of that stuff...
Just don't forget that...


THIS...


IS...

CHRISTMAS! Happy Birthday, Jesus!


Oh...and Happy belated Hanukkah to my Jewish brothers and sisters around the world...

...and Happy Holidays to the rest of the you guys!

Peace on Earth...Good will towards men!

Dreaming Reality and the Return of Thirst

(This is a reprint of something I wrote in 2007. Turns out the girl wasn't as cool as the one in my imagination, but it was cool to almost meet my dream girl.So without further adieu.... here's the deal dude.)

I've met the most amazing girl, yet I hardly know her. It's the story of my life. I'm sure she has a boyfriend. Someone like her doesn't go unnoticed. In fact, most men seek out girls like her like thirst seeks water.

But I wasn't even thirsty since I've taught myself to accept loneliness as a suitable drink for some time now. Being lonely is easy after awhile. After a year or two, it becomes habit. Honestly, I stopped looking. Until recently, I really didn't think girls like her even existed.

She's...unbelievably...undeniably...indescribably...more than this humble writer can put to words (and I know a lot of words).

She's like seeing the sunrise for the first time - everything else seems to stop as if reality was yielding to something not quite of this world. I'm not saying she's some kind of magical being from a fairy tale. Fairy tales are for children.

No, I wrote this story in college and kept it safe in my imagination, and there is where she was supposed to stay. The story was fanciful and foolish. The lady in my mind was barely from the time and space we all call existence (she could have been from Switzerland or some remote mountain village.).

But on that fateful day she was right in front of me smiling just like in my story. Even the sun seemed to dim just a bit when she came into being, and she knows.

She knows she's from my story, and still she doesn't run away, which is why I don't pursue her. I'm scared that one wrong move will wake me up.

She knows she's from my story, and still she doesn't run away, which is why I don't pursue her. I'm scared that one wrong move will wake me up.

How does this story go? I don't know. I just wrote the story up to our meeting. The rest is always interrupted by my alarm clock or the limits of reality.

And the most terrifying thing about this whole ordeal is that this real girl is more incredible than the one in the dream. That's not suppose to happen. All this was never suppose to be possible.

But hope is the rain cloud of a dreamer's parched despair.

And for once in a very long time I feel thirst again.

Confessions of a Hopeful Romantic

ro·man·tic \rō-ˈman-tik, rə-\ adjective: impractical in conception or plan

I am all too sober right now and listening to Toto's "Africa." I could be out drinking like a fish and/or flossing a stripper's thong with my hard-earned dollar bills, but I chose to do laundry and think about things that slosh around in my skull. I actually needed the laundry more than the lame down time, but hey, it's been about a bigillion years since I've written anything.

Plus, strip clubs kind of creep me out.

So, I've been doing some thinking about the next year which is pretty surprising since I don't exactly know what I'll be doing next week. Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing for lunch... today. Nevertheless, I will be moving, doing a shit ton of studying, a crap load of partying, and some traveling in the next year. All this stuff should put me in a good spot to complete my New Year's resolution which basically boils down to "suck less this year."

However, one small thing got left off January's pipe dream list. Maybe it wasn't that important at the time, and maybe it won't be imperative for a few months from now, but dating seems to be like Chik-fil-A on a Sunday - an F+ for timing.

And with all this running around and doing cool stuff in the next year I'm not going to have time to start dating again. I mean, I really want to, but I really REALLY want to move to Korea by Christmas next year and learn to play the ukulele. The situation is compounded due to the fact that women smell great (95.3% of the time), look way better than dudes, and a lot of them are pretty damn cool.

Maybe I should wait it out. My priorities can change. I'm sure I'll get bored with not having little arguments and having "the talk." Surely, doing whatever I want whenever I want will get on my nerves, right? I should be able to make time to take ladies to dinner since I already eat dinner on a regular basis (just do it in tandem?).

Yeah, it'll happen. No need to worry about being that old guy with way too many pets and bath robes....yet.

Besides, once I master the ukulele and start my ukulele rock cover band, the ladies should come running like coke fiends to...well...coke.

Thanks for reading this far.

My Christmas Story ..reposted for the 2009

I have to admit Christmas isn't my favorite holiday. It seems that the real meaning is lost in the hustle and bustle of whatever it is the stores wants us to believe....and I hate hustling and bustling... and stores.

It's like we've never heard the real story of Christmas, or we've forgotten it somewhere down the road.

So I post this thing every year to remind myself why the end of December is important. Maybe it'll remind you, too. If my interpretation seems too whimsical, you might need a little dose of Christmas spirit. Relax. Pour yourself a drink...and listen to this story:




...in a land far far away... a child was born...

... in a manger in Bethlehem.

But this was no ordinary baby. He was so awesome that righteous men

... before him predicted his birth.

Isa:7:14: 'Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign; Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.'

Isa:9:6: 'For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counseller, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.


So 'away in a manger no crib for a bed the little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head...'

But the story has a dark side. King Herod of Judea was well aware of the coming of the 'King of Kings' and wasn't too keen on the idea.

So he dispatched three wisemen...

...to find this Prince of Peace so he could pay his 'respects'. Unfortunately, the King Herod's definition of respect was 'to kill in a timely fashion.'

So the three Magi followed the star....

(Isa:60:6: 'The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Midian and Ephah; all they from Sheba shall come: they shall bring gold and incense; and they shall shew forth the praises of the LORD.')

...and they found the Christ child and offered him gifts.

...but in those days the best they had was gold, frankincense and myrrh...

Fortunately, they were warned in a dream about King Herod's evil plan to kill Jesus... So they 86-ed the plan to report back to him thus allowing Jesus to go forth and inspire millions upon millions to follow in his footsteps.

Some people like to point out that Jesus may not have been born on December 25th. Some may even point out that Christmas has been over commercialized and has lost its true meaning.

But I'd much rather spend my time hanging out with friends and family.

...Because despite our differences in doctrines, opinions, and location...




Despite your views on Santa Clause...

...eggnog

Despite all of that stuff...
Just don't forget that...


THIS...


IS...

CHRISTMAS! Happy Birthday, Jesus!


Oh...and Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish brothers and sisters around the world...

...and Happy Holidays to the rest of the you guys!

Peace on Earth...Good will towards men!

DIEt!

OK, there was one last doughnut in the break room. It just happen to be a New York cheesecake doughnut which is basically made of angel wings and all things that are right with the world.

I had to eat it. That puffy cloud of goodness was put there specifically for me to eat, and who am I to fuck with fate? That thing was exactly what I expected - fuckin' outstanding.

Now I'm not a health food Nazi by any means, but I usually stay away from doughnuts on a regular basis. Besides being made from fried dough and sugar those things provide as much calories as two meals. In this case, the New York cheesecake train wreck came in at 340 delicious calories. Fuck a duck, dude!



But hey, I workout and run five days a week. I can have a doughnut every now and then - no big whoop.

All was good until a pair of Subway white macadamia nut cookies fell into my lap at the end of the day. I mean, I try and help my fellow man in a time of need, and she REALLY needed to get rid of those cookies. After 440 calories of Cookie Monster madness (Om Nom nom nom!), I got to thinking about how much activity it would take to burn off a total of 780 calories of fat-ass weakness.

According to my sources, I would have to run 6 mph for about an hour and four minutes to burn off 780 calories, but what if I hated running? If I were a weirdo douchebag or a circus performer, I would have to unicycle for about 130 minutes to justify cramming my cakehole with all that junk. If I really hated myself, I would have to go ice fishing for about 326 minutes to burn off 2 cookies and a doughnut - over five hours of freezing my ass off just to burn off three food items!

But I'm not going to go to fly off the handle and go on a diet. Most diets are dumb and disregard the history of food consumption. This world wasn't built by people who were afraid of meat, bread, and sugar. Any sort of meal plan that runs contrary to the old school, sensible food pyramid plan is retarded and has failure written all over it. Besides, doughnuts and steak are just too damn tasty, right?

So what's a schmuck to do after inhaling close to a quarter of his daily, caloric intake in about 10 minutes?

1. Stay calm. Life is long. Eating habits aren't defined by one day of treats. Just make sure most of your days aren't spent eating things closely related to fried Snicker bars and French fries. You can tell when you're in trouble when your hand resembles a plate of sausages...and you still want to eat them...or at least give them a nibble.

2. Allow yourself to enjoy some kind of treat occasionally because candy and fried mozzarella sticks are the shit!

3. You need to realize food equals calories which should be proportional to the energy you need for your level of activity. Overeating is sort of like trying to fill your car's gas tank two gallons over its capacity and pumping another half a gallon onto the dashboard. Sounds absurd, right?

But it's just as absurd as consuming the amount of calories needed by a world class athlete just to sit at a desk all day and sit on the couch all night.

4. I need to buy a unicycle and a stop watch...and maybe review my insurance policy.

The Complications of Wading

I love it when intelligent people describe their own personal life as "complicated." These are the same folks that can wrap their minds around space/time physics or are in charge of some very big things.

I used to be one of those people (minus the space/time physics and in charge stuff...so basically...I'm was nothing like them?), but one day my brain crapped out, and and since then my mind refuses to believe that life is as complicated as people make it.

For example, I was chatting with a friend fairly recently and inquired about her boyfriend since the the event we happen to be attending usually has the daters bringing a date and the single folks looking for dates or the bar. She told me that she and her boyfriend aren't seeing each other and that it was complicated.

But how complicated is it really? Now I'm not naive enough to think life is all black and white, but it's not all grey either. The way I see it - you're either with someone or... you're not.

But whatever. It's all relative. Everything looks a lot different when your wading in your own crap.

And as I smile and flippantly drink a beer from the safety of the shore I ask myself,

"Why in the hell would a rational person slosh around in their own muck?"



Figuratively or not - it doesn't make much sense.

So as the night wore on, the daters did the dating thing, and the single folks did their thing, and I did the only thing that made sense that night - I found the bar. It was pretty easy to find and not complicated at all.

Mazal tov!