Things I've Realized Since Becoming a Father #9

Being a single parent must be really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really hard.

And People Think I'M Weird

You know, there are less than 600 members of congress. That's by far smaller than my high school. How the hell did so many idiots get elected to run this country? This week it's Senator Craig who's been outed for illegal activities. These guys are soliciting other men for sex in airport restrooms and still getting elected. I couldn't even get picked for teams in gym class!
And the funny thing is how much the media has quoted Senator Craig as saying, "I am not gay. I never have been gay." Hey buddy, I don't care if your gay. I care that you're a United States senator who got arrested for soliciting sex in a public restroom!

A Knife in the Back Is Like an Itchy Massage

Every now and then I get to know someone who is one of those "tell you like it is" people. They piss you off with their confrontation and criticism, and then proudly say, "Hey, I just tell it like it is. I'm not some rat who goes around behind your back."
Well guess what. Since when is that actually helpful? I have low self-esteem, and to be honest, if there's something you don't like about me I'd rather not hear about it. I'm too old to change, and I welcome you to politely go behind my back and tell everyone around me what a schmuck you think I am. And I'll do you the service of doing the same.

Things I've Realized Since Becoming a Father #8

Stores that don't have a changing station in the women's bathroom don't deserve my business.
And stores that DO have a changing station in the women's bathroom, but not the men's, ALSO don't deserve my business. Welcome to the 80's!!!

Keeping It Real

You know, throughout my life I always felt out of place among my social circles. There always seemed to be some veil over everyone, like there was some part of them that I couldn't see. Then there was the day I met Trag. I was at a party one day, sitting in the corner like a true wallflower, and Trag walks up and introduces himself. "You know what the problem is with these people?" he said, "They don't keep it real."
And that's when it hit me. That's why I was out of place! These people didn't know how to keep it real! They were soaked in self-consciousness! Drenched in "keep up with the Jones" mentality. This wasn't for me. I was for real. I needed to hang with people who keep it real just like me.
Trag and I left the party and headed to this house where his friends liked to hang. Trag wore lots of black and listened to punk music. I knew a guy like this would have lots of friends who kept it real just like we did.
Once we got to the house, things seemed so much better than before, but it didn't take long before that wore off. For guys who claimed they kept it real, they sure put on a lot of show. It turns out they ALL wore black just like Trag! The music didn't seem too real. Every song sounded disgruntled. Wouldn't "keeping it real" involve a smile every now and then? Or some powder blue? Hell, half the house was wearing the same Misfits T-shirt! The most disappointing thing about the whole experience was when Trag's wallet fell out of his pocket and revealed an Abercrombie credit card. And on the credit card, I noticed that his real name was Jason.
This place wasn't keeping it real at all. I knew I had to find a place that was more real just like me. I did notice this one girl at the house that also seemed out of place. She was the only one who wasn't in black. She was in a sensible army green, and she didn't wear a bra. I figured a girl who wouldn't confine her bosom to the shackles of authority must really know how to keep it real. So I introduced myself.
Her name was Donna (so much more real than "Trag"). And I was right. She was disgusted by the "cookie cutter" format of the house just like me. She said she knew of a coffee shop down the road where people REALLY knew how to keep it real. "Let's go" I said, and we left Trag (Jason) and all the rest of his fakie friends: Rust (Bob), Cuff (Willy), Kayla (Jenny), and Zip (Josh).
A few minutes later, we were walking into the place I had been searching for all along. The Jaded Philanthropist coffeehouse. Inside was a plethora of individuality. Each table was a haven for discussion about politics, poetry, Norwegian folklore and even the history of MI6's involvement with the middle east in the 1970's. But wait a minute. What the hell was I supposed to talk about? This kind of stuff wasn't anything I cared to discuss right then. I JUST GOT THERE! Plus, no one seemed to want to listen to anything I wanted to say. Actually, no one was really listening to anybody else! Each table was one person who was just talking and talking about whatever. This couldn't be real! No matter how educated! And for as many communists that were there, it sure was hard to get a fair chance to talk! I knew I had to find a better place where people REALLY kept it real.
There was only one place left where I could try. I'm not allowed to tell you where it was, or how I got there. It was SO real, that I wasn't even allowed to disclose any names of the people who were there! But I will tell you that there was a lot of stuff that made me uncomfortable there. People picked their noses, drank too much, snorted heroin, ran around naked, had circle jerks, watched "Weekend at Bernie's", and I think that one of the guys had a girlfriend there that was only 13!!! I don't know for sure because she only spoke Chinese. Was this what keeping it REAL came down to? Do people really fart that much? Or had I finally gone too far? I don't know if this was real or not, but if it was, I didn't really want to share it with these guys. So I knew I had to move on.
There was only one place left where I knew I could keep it real. I came home and started typing on my computer. Is that real? It is to me. At least in my head, but that's about as far as reality goes for anyone. Any further, and the elements of the material world twist it into something that isn't you anymore. If we're lucky, we can manage to get one positive thing from our brains to someone else and touch them in some way that makes the world a better place. And if we're really lucky, we can get it across without disclosing that we've seen the movie "Weekend at Bernie's".

yours truly,

Siddhartha Vader (yes, that's my real name)

Interstate Stream of Consciousness

The other morning I was driving down the interstate on my way to work. I came up over a hill, and there it was; the rising sun in all its majesty. It was just above the horizon which made it look huge, and there was a haze in the air which made it easy to look at. I was overwhelmed by its beauty and shook my fist shouting, "Oooh yeah!!!"

Then I thought, "God must think I'm pretty cool to be praising the beauty of the sunrise like that."

But then I thought, "Maybe God's angry with me now for being so prideful and pleased with myself over a sunrise that EVERYONE should be cheering for." This made me uncomfortable and I worried that the smite might come down.

Then, up ahead on the side of the road, I saw a dead deer. That's when I realized that life is too short to be so concerned with every little worry like that, and maybe God was trying to show me this by sending me past this dead deer.

As I passed the deer, I realized that it was actually just a piece of furniture that must have fallen off a truck. I watched it in my rear view mirror with a grin, thinking how silly it was to keep letting my mind race like that.

Then, as I took my eyes back to the road, I had just enough time to see a deer running out in front of my car. It came through the windshield and punctured my left lung.

The hospital stay was a little long, but well needed. The frustrating thing about it was that my patient bed was positioned in relation to the window, so that the sunrise was JUST out of view. This wouldn't have been so annoying if the other patient in my room would have stopped cheering every damn morning; prideful bastard.

Fake Zen Meditation #6

Look into a mirror and you will see yourself looking back.
Look into yourself and you will see the great emptiness that looks back at nothing.
Look into nothingness and you will see the great emptiness looking at yourself looking at nothing.
Look into the three mirrors in the JC Penney dressing room and you will see yourself looking at yourself looking at the side of yourself forever into the abyss of the great empty nothing.

oh paper bag

sometimes we are blue
and that's when we go tan
sometimes we are orange
and that's when we sin

under a window lands a breeze
it hits my skin with crisping leaves
to shiver is to surrender
and surrender is ultimate beauty

I have a bag of insecurities
I asked for paper and they gave me plastic
I hoped the rain would weaken the lining
but now they're just taking on water

soon it will tear and you'll be soaking with it all
those drops that should have healed the landscape of my wandering
it will erode your skin
and I will make you cry

replace me with a vegetable
they're in your grocer's freezer
and you will find the broccoli looks much like little trees

He Ain't Heavy

Nothing in history has ever truly been heavy, just awkward. Carry a refrigerator down three flights of stairs and it's not heavy, just awkward. There were 10,000 slaves in ancient Egypt pulling a rock tied to a rope to cap some punk-ass Pharaoh's pyramid. Undoubtedly, one said to the other, "Man, this giant pyramid rock is heavy," and undoubtedly another said, "It's not so much heavy as it is awkward."

August

August is like a month of Sundays. The impending arrival of winter/school weighs on you like no other. In another week I should begin to see Christmas decorations at Kmart. Way to keep it special.