I was going to write something upbeat, something life affirming. You know, one of those "Well, at least I am above ground so it has to be a good day" type posts. But, that's not quite my mood. And why fake it? A - Its not that much fun to fake it. B - I am not that good at faking it. C - I hate fakers. So, I will go with this.
Life sucks sometimes. I know. I have had life suck. I have been as low as you can be. I admit it. I have had those dark days when I wondered why life continued. It sucks. I have made it through, somehow, someway, probably due to my family and close friends. I dont go back there anymore, but I do wonder why it happens, how it happens, and what makes some people decide life sucks too much and others, like me, decide that life may suck, but we can make it bearable. I dont know. I dont have an answer. I dont know if I have any answers.
I do know that 12 years ago I had a different life envisioned. My oldest son was a baby. I was in law school. I was so sure he was going to do great things, things that I would never do. How wrong I was. I could not have been any more wrong. (Read it like Chandler Bing would say it and maybe you wont have tears in your eyes like I do in mine.) He was going to be smart, big, tall, strong. He was going to surpass his dad. He will - but only in height.
Every single day. The phone rings. I know who it is when it rings. Have you ever had those calls? I got one the day my mom died. The minute the phone rang, I knew what it was. I had one 12 1/2 years ago. The phone rang late one night. My wife was in bed. Our baby was in bed. I just knew what it was. Talk about life changing. Yeah, we know you have had this baby, but the birth parents changed their minds. Oh, and can you keep him for another day? Really? Another day? Are you fucking kidding me? I still see that night in my mind once a year.
Well, now I go through those calls again. I dont complain about it. I dont bitch and moan about it. I just know when the phone rings its "Tyler did this......." or "Tyler did that........." I dont know how we stay sane with it. I dont know. I dont care. I just know that each day that the phone rings like that a little piece of me dies. Maybe, not dies. Maybe it just gets sucked away. Maybe it just evaporates like the rain puddles. I dont know.
I look at my life. I am 38 years old, pushing 39. 40 is just around the corner. I know my dad died at 63. My mom at 70. What does that give me? 25 years? 32 years? I know the stress takes its toll. And I know I am not in the worst position. Hell, I made it to 29 and 36 before my parents died. Some kids dont get that long.
But do you know what its like? Its a safety net and its gone. I have my wife as a safety net. I dont have my parents. Because, I know, just as I will always be there for Tyler, no matter what, no matter how many phone calls, no matter what he does, my parents would have always been there for me. But they arent anymore and theres not a damn thing I can do about it.
I have my family. My wife, 4 kids. I have some friends. I think I need fewer though. I know what I dont need. I dont need "fair weather friends." Look, if you dont like me when I am in this kind of mood, fine. But you dont get happy, smiley Jon without also getting sad Jon. If you only want to come around when I am happy, or when you need something, then dont come around at all. And if you only come around because "Well, Jon is always there" and I am your safe friend (kind of like your safe college), then I dont want you around.
32 years. Thats my time frame. I dont think I have time for people who want me around for a smile, a quick (usually clean) joke, or because they need something. Life is too damn short. Those 32 years? They are going to entail thousands of phone calls. Thousands of hours lost to worry, stress, kids who arent like you and me. Dreams shattered and never replaceable. I am not going to lose any time with people who cant be there for me in the good and the bad.
32 years. Thats not that long.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
On people
I am just done with people. I went for funny last night - and it fell flat. I know. I went back and re-read it. It was no Marijuana Smokers Against Kellogg (http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2009/02/marijuana-smokers-against-kellogg.html). It was no PETA, Orcas and Courts - Oh My! (http://randomrants08.blogspot.com/2012/04/peta-orcas-and-courts-oh-my.html) It was not even one of my early Pitbull rants. (Dude still sucks!) So, let me go back to doing what I do best.
What the hell is wrong with people? I just give up. Really. I do. People blow. No, people who blow are good. People bite. Biting is bad. Lets see...4 groups of people who suck so much they make me want to give up on people altogether. (Well, except my wife, my kids, and my good friends - all 2 of them.) Why 4 you ask? Not because I couldn't come up with 5. But because 4 was my number in soccer. So there is a reason to it!
Number 4............people who use you for their own PR. Look, any news is good news, right? Maybe. I think it might be true. But dont fucking use me to get your PR. I know you have to run for office again. I know you enjoy being in the spotlight. Good for you. I don't do things because I want to be in the spotlight. In fact, I prefer to come up with an idea and then let other people be the person who is out there. I have to put up with some nonsense because its mine. I get it. But if you are going to come out to my event, be it a soccer game for charity, or anything else, you sure as hell better not use me for your own PR. If you want your picture taken with me, you better know who I am 2 weeks, 2 months, even 2 years later. If you cant remember who I am, then maybe you dont need to use me. If your memory is really that crappy, then move on with life. Go do something else. Because I sure as hell promise you that I won't come out, get some PR out of something you are doing and then forget who you are. I probably wont come out at all. I will just sit there and mind my own business. If I come out, its because its a good cause, not because I want to use you or your event. Is it really asking too much? You want a picture smiling, shaking my hand? You want to put it up on your website? Fine. But then you sure as hell better remember me when I post something on twitter or facebook or rip you online. Because I will........I just wont use your name this time. I am still too nice.
Number 3............people who use you for your skills, but wont reciprocate. Look, you need someone to yell at someone? I will do it. You want to start some piece of crap non profit? I can do that. You want to start a charter school? I could do that. I won't, but I could. You want someone to fire someone? I can even do that. But when I do it, is it really asking for too much that when I ask you to, say, help me promote a charity event, you spend 2 minutes helping me? Trust me, my time is worth something. My hourly rate is ridiculously high. I admit it. But even my not billable time is worth something. And I have spent more than 5 hours helping you. Is it really that hard to spend 2 minutes and at least pretend like you care about my project? Is it? Are you that bad an actor? Hell, even I act like I like you and you can't figure that out. Man up and help. Or tell me you don't care enough to help. But at least fucking respond.
Number 2.........people who want a donation from you all the time but can't manage to donate to your causes. Look, I do like 3 fundraisers a year. I dont hit my friends or acquaintances up for every cookie fundraiser my kids do. I dont ask you to buy wrapping paper or cheesy cards or some such nonsense. I do like 3 that are important to me. A - Buy $2 freaking blue light bulbs for one night a year. B - Donate to a walk I did. C - Support my stupid soccer game. Volunteer, play or donate. Is that asking too much? Apparently it is. Look, we all have money problems. I get it. I dont expect everyone to donate. But if you are going to ask me to vote for your cause on Facebook or some other website or if you are going to ask me for money, then you sure as hell better return the favor. If you can't look me in the face and say you will help me, why should I spend my time helping you? If you have a good reason, just tell me. If you are against my causes, then let me know. If you think I am a douchebag, then tell me. But dont ask me for money when you wont do the same for me.
Number 1...........people..............okay, so not all people, but people who are all buddy, buddy when they need something, but the minute you need something, they have forgotten you. You know what makes this worse? People who you helped out when they were in a bind so they didnt look like complete incompetent idiots. You know the folks. "Hey, we have a problem. Can you do this for us?" And you say, sure, I can help you out. Then, a year later, you? Who are you? I have no idea who you are. Oh, you? Yeah, sorry, I totally forgot. We got someone else to do that. We dont need you now. Really? Really? What the fuck? So when you need help, I am there. When I ask, you dont even know who I am. Oh, you forgot about me? Great. Watch me forget about you. I can do that fairly easily.
Sadly, I know a lot of these folks. Er, knew a lot of these folks. Well, I guess I still know them. I just wont talk to them. Anymore. Ever. Again. Watch my list of "friends" on Facebook shrink. Quickly. 416 "friends?" Yeah, I dont think so. Maybe more like 400 and 16 people who I dont have time for in my life because you can't be around to help me out when I need help. Fuck you. What? You couldn't hear that? THEN FUCK YOU YOU PIECE OF CRAP. Was that better? Trust me, I am loud enough I can wake the dead. I can get the deaf guy down the street to hear me. You dont believe me? Ask the guys I play soccer with. I am so loud that I broke a decible meter noise kit. I make a frickin jet at take off sound like rustling leaves. (That is funny. Look it up if you dont get it.)
So, Dear People in Categories 4 through 1: Bye. I wish you nothing but the best in life. I hope things work out for you. They just wont work out with me in your life. Sincerely, Me
What the hell is wrong with people? I just give up. Really. I do. People blow. No, people who blow are good. People bite. Biting is bad. Lets see...4 groups of people who suck so much they make me want to give up on people altogether. (Well, except my wife, my kids, and my good friends - all 2 of them.) Why 4 you ask? Not because I couldn't come up with 5. But because 4 was my number in soccer. So there is a reason to it!
Number 4............people who use you for their own PR. Look, any news is good news, right? Maybe. I think it might be true. But dont fucking use me to get your PR. I know you have to run for office again. I know you enjoy being in the spotlight. Good for you. I don't do things because I want to be in the spotlight. In fact, I prefer to come up with an idea and then let other people be the person who is out there. I have to put up with some nonsense because its mine. I get it. But if you are going to come out to my event, be it a soccer game for charity, or anything else, you sure as hell better not use me for your own PR. If you want your picture taken with me, you better know who I am 2 weeks, 2 months, even 2 years later. If you cant remember who I am, then maybe you dont need to use me. If your memory is really that crappy, then move on with life. Go do something else. Because I sure as hell promise you that I won't come out, get some PR out of something you are doing and then forget who you are. I probably wont come out at all. I will just sit there and mind my own business. If I come out, its because its a good cause, not because I want to use you or your event. Is it really asking too much? You want a picture smiling, shaking my hand? You want to put it up on your website? Fine. But then you sure as hell better remember me when I post something on twitter or facebook or rip you online. Because I will........I just wont use your name this time. I am still too nice.
Number 3............people who use you for your skills, but wont reciprocate. Look, you need someone to yell at someone? I will do it. You want to start some piece of crap non profit? I can do that. You want to start a charter school? I could do that. I won't, but I could. You want someone to fire someone? I can even do that. But when I do it, is it really asking for too much that when I ask you to, say, help me promote a charity event, you spend 2 minutes helping me? Trust me, my time is worth something. My hourly rate is ridiculously high. I admit it. But even my not billable time is worth something. And I have spent more than 5 hours helping you. Is it really that hard to spend 2 minutes and at least pretend like you care about my project? Is it? Are you that bad an actor? Hell, even I act like I like you and you can't figure that out. Man up and help. Or tell me you don't care enough to help. But at least fucking respond.
Number 2.........people who want a donation from you all the time but can't manage to donate to your causes. Look, I do like 3 fundraisers a year. I dont hit my friends or acquaintances up for every cookie fundraiser my kids do. I dont ask you to buy wrapping paper or cheesy cards or some such nonsense. I do like 3 that are important to me. A - Buy $2 freaking blue light bulbs for one night a year. B - Donate to a walk I did. C - Support my stupid soccer game. Volunteer, play or donate. Is that asking too much? Apparently it is. Look, we all have money problems. I get it. I dont expect everyone to donate. But if you are going to ask me to vote for your cause on Facebook or some other website or if you are going to ask me for money, then you sure as hell better return the favor. If you can't look me in the face and say you will help me, why should I spend my time helping you? If you have a good reason, just tell me. If you are against my causes, then let me know. If you think I am a douchebag, then tell me. But dont ask me for money when you wont do the same for me.
Number 1...........people..............okay, so not all people, but people who are all buddy, buddy when they need something, but the minute you need something, they have forgotten you. You know what makes this worse? People who you helped out when they were in a bind so they didnt look like complete incompetent idiots. You know the folks. "Hey, we have a problem. Can you do this for us?" And you say, sure, I can help you out. Then, a year later, you? Who are you? I have no idea who you are. Oh, you? Yeah, sorry, I totally forgot. We got someone else to do that. We dont need you now. Really? Really? What the fuck? So when you need help, I am there. When I ask, you dont even know who I am. Oh, you forgot about me? Great. Watch me forget about you. I can do that fairly easily.
Sadly, I know a lot of these folks. Er, knew a lot of these folks. Well, I guess I still know them. I just wont talk to them. Anymore. Ever. Again. Watch my list of "friends" on Facebook shrink. Quickly. 416 "friends?" Yeah, I dont think so. Maybe more like 400 and 16 people who I dont have time for in my life because you can't be around to help me out when I need help. Fuck you. What? You couldn't hear that? THEN FUCK YOU YOU PIECE OF CRAP. Was that better? Trust me, I am loud enough I can wake the dead. I can get the deaf guy down the street to hear me. You dont believe me? Ask the guys I play soccer with. I am so loud that I broke a decible meter noise kit. I make a frickin jet at take off sound like rustling leaves. (That is funny. Look it up if you dont get it.)
So, Dear People in Categories 4 through 1: Bye. I wish you nothing but the best in life. I hope things work out for you. They just wont work out with me in your life. Sincerely, Me
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
So I was going to write something serious and rip on some people. You know, those people who come around and have their PR guys take pictures with you when they need something, but 2 weeks later they can't pick you out from Adam. Or the guys who need you when you have a skill, but the minute you ask for something back, suddenly their email stops working. Or how about the people who hit you up for a donation all the time, but won't donate to you? Or............well, nevermind...........all of those are for another time.
Tonight, I proudly present...............nothing. I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. So there has to be something I can make fun of, right? Maybe............
Here is now my rendition of professional athletes who find out that they have to get a real job. Oh, and real jobs are not on tv. (Sorry tv folks, but if you make your living in front of a camera with makeup on, you do not have a real job.)
LBJ: Yo man, ever since I choked in 7 NBA finals in a row, I can't pay the bills.
MWP: You think that's tough? Ever since I threw that elbow at James Harden, I have been called Metta World Pieceofcrap. That's not fair.
JV: You two think you have it bad? The commissioner told everyone that I participated in that bounty program. Once I got suspended, I went from middle linebacker to left out.
SS: Yo bla blo he ho me mi mo.
MWP: What the f___ did you say, Sammy?
SS: Yo bla blo he ho me no English good.
LBJ: He sounds like Patrick Ewing now. No, maybe he sounds like Spreewell.
JV: I don't know about you two, but my agent told me to get a real job. What the hell is a real job?
MWP: I have been working as a sign holder at a freeway construction site. You know those guys work 8 hours a day? 8 WHOLE hours! What do I look like, a masochist?
LBJ: You think that's bad? I had to cut down trees. Those guys go up IN THE TREES, then cut them down. You want me to go up and down? And the worst part: I couldn't take off the last quarter of the day. They made me work ALL day.
SS: Yo me blo no bla mi mo hi ho gi go.
JV: Shut up Sammy. Your English is worse than Shawn Kemp's 12th kid who had to get by on $12,000 per month.
LBJ: Dude, I don't know what I am going to do. We work like 100 days a year. These fools work like 250 days. You want me to work four times as much.
JV: Wouldn't that be twice as much?
LBJ: I don't know. I didn't go to college. I had to go to the NBA and make my money while my baby mama stayed at home.
MWP: I think its five times as much. But don't quote me. I was not a math major. I went to beauty school.
JV: You went to beauty school?
MWP: Well, my grades in high school weren't quite at the level to get me into a great school like DeVry or ITT Tech.
SS: ITT Tech my school
LBJ: You went to ITT tech?
SS: No english good
JV: Anyway, I got to get back to my job at the bakery. I have to work and its hot. And no one comes to towel me off or bring me Gatorade. That aint fair.
LBJ: Yeah, I have to get back to the meadow or whatever they call it. There are like 100 trees in that place.
MWP: 100 trees or 100 acres?
LBJ: How the hell should I know? I thought I was going to win 7 NBA titles. You want me to know how many trees there are?
SS: Cork steroids I do good. No job now. Suckers
MWP: I want to go open a can of whup-ass on that guy.
JV: I thought you were World Peace?
MWP: Oh yeah. I am. But this job thing sucks. It makes me all dumb.
ME: It doesnt make you dumb. You are all dumbasses. Welcome to the real world. Stop your whining and bitchin. Sheesh.
Okay, not my best work, but better than listening to me rant, isnt it?
Tonight, I proudly present...............nothing. I got nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. So there has to be something I can make fun of, right? Maybe............
Here is now my rendition of professional athletes who find out that they have to get a real job. Oh, and real jobs are not on tv. (Sorry tv folks, but if you make your living in front of a camera with makeup on, you do not have a real job.)
LBJ: Yo man, ever since I choked in 7 NBA finals in a row, I can't pay the bills.
MWP: You think that's tough? Ever since I threw that elbow at James Harden, I have been called Metta World Pieceofcrap. That's not fair.
JV: You two think you have it bad? The commissioner told everyone that I participated in that bounty program. Once I got suspended, I went from middle linebacker to left out.
SS: Yo bla blo he ho me mi mo.
MWP: What the f___ did you say, Sammy?
SS: Yo bla blo he ho me no English good.
LBJ: He sounds like Patrick Ewing now. No, maybe he sounds like Spreewell.
JV: I don't know about you two, but my agent told me to get a real job. What the hell is a real job?
MWP: I have been working as a sign holder at a freeway construction site. You know those guys work 8 hours a day? 8 WHOLE hours! What do I look like, a masochist?
LBJ: You think that's bad? I had to cut down trees. Those guys go up IN THE TREES, then cut them down. You want me to go up and down? And the worst part: I couldn't take off the last quarter of the day. They made me work ALL day.
SS: Yo me blo no bla mi mo hi ho gi go.
JV: Shut up Sammy. Your English is worse than Shawn Kemp's 12th kid who had to get by on $12,000 per month.
LBJ: Dude, I don't know what I am going to do. We work like 100 days a year. These fools work like 250 days. You want me to work four times as much.
JV: Wouldn't that be twice as much?
LBJ: I don't know. I didn't go to college. I had to go to the NBA and make my money while my baby mama stayed at home.
MWP: I think its five times as much. But don't quote me. I was not a math major. I went to beauty school.
JV: You went to beauty school?
MWP: Well, my grades in high school weren't quite at the level to get me into a great school like DeVry or ITT Tech.
SS: ITT Tech my school
LBJ: You went to ITT tech?
SS: No english good
JV: Anyway, I got to get back to my job at the bakery. I have to work and its hot. And no one comes to towel me off or bring me Gatorade. That aint fair.
LBJ: Yeah, I have to get back to the meadow or whatever they call it. There are like 100 trees in that place.
MWP: 100 trees or 100 acres?
LBJ: How the hell should I know? I thought I was going to win 7 NBA titles. You want me to know how many trees there are?
SS: Cork steroids I do good. No job now. Suckers
MWP: I want to go open a can of whup-ass on that guy.
JV: I thought you were World Peace?
MWP: Oh yeah. I am. But this job thing sucks. It makes me all dumb.
ME: It doesnt make you dumb. You are all dumbasses. Welcome to the real world. Stop your whining and bitchin. Sheesh.
Okay, not my best work, but better than listening to me rant, isnt it?
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
On making decisions
Let me tell you a little story. I was in high school and would wake up every morning. I would have breakfast while my dad would watch CNBC. He would be working and I would be reading the sports page. And, about once a week, he would tell at the idiots on the tv that they had no idea what they were talking about. At first, it was humorous. But, after a while, I decided I would ask him why he thought these "analysts" were idiots. It went something like this: these guys graduate college, get a job for a few years, apply to business school and get an MBA. Now they think they know what it takes to run a business. They dont. Yet their "pronouncements" can make stock prices go up and down, can affect people's jobs, and can make it harder for the people who actually run the companies. My dad knew of what he spoke. It was a great story. It made a good point: its easy to sit in your office and criticize the people who are actually doing the work.
So that leads me to this: why do people think its acceptable to sit around and tell other people what they are doing wrong? Its easy to sit in your office, review someone's records and make pronouncements. Its not easy to actually do. And its a problem.
Look, you think you can live my life better than I can? Come and try it. Seriously. Come try it. I sure as hell know I can't live your life better than you do. That goes for everyone from friends who work at other law firms (all 2 of you) to the homeless guy I helped. I sure as hell can't be homeless. I know that. I would suck at it. I also don't play well with others. Thats why I work alone. I know that. Its a character flaw. Its my character flaw. And there is no way I would try to work in an office again. It just isn't me.
So don't sit back in your office and tell me that I can't handle something. Don't tell me that I didn't do something right. I assure you I do my best. I try. That's all I can say. But to sit there and criticize others when you don't know what the hell you are talking about is just wrong.
Whats the expression about walking a mile in my shoes? How about just half a mile? I don't get it. Look, write the facts. Don't make crap up to fit your ideas. I don't know what the hell I am doing as a father or a husband. I dont know what I am doing. I am learning. Am I supposed to rely on some expert to tell me? Really?
Dear Mr. Expert: Fuck you. I am glad you have a PhD or an MD or a FullofcrapD. That just means you went to school for a long time. It doesnt mean you know anything about my life. I appreciate that you wrote a book or read a book or once saw a book. I am glad for you. But how do you know what I can or cannot do or what I have or have not done? Did you pick up the phone and call me? No. Did you sit down and talk with me? No.
I am so tired of people judging. You know what? I am sure of very little in life. I dont know why. Its another character flaw, I guess. But I am sure of this: I try to be the best husband I know how to be. My wife tries to be the best wife she knows how to be. We try to be the best parents we know how to be. Not once have we said we can't manage it. Not once have we asked you for your opinion of how we are doing. Why? Because we are doing the best that we can fucking do. And if that isnt good enough for you then kiss my ass.
Is it hard? Yep. Does it suck sometimes? Yep. Have we laid in bed at night and questioned decisions we have made? Absolutely. Have we had a pity party once or twice? Probably. So what?
That doesnt mean we arent up to it. It just means we are human. We are people. We are trying to do the best we can do and we do it together.
So, please, stop sitting around and judging us. (This goes for you to Ms. Kindergarten Teacher who told us we were bad parents.) Stop telling us what we cant do. Just stop. We will make the decisions that we think are best when we think they are best based on what we know. We may make wrong decisions now and then. We may not be batting 1.000. But we are batting and that is all that matters.
So that leads me to this: why do people think its acceptable to sit around and tell other people what they are doing wrong? Its easy to sit in your office, review someone's records and make pronouncements. Its not easy to actually do. And its a problem.
Look, you think you can live my life better than I can? Come and try it. Seriously. Come try it. I sure as hell know I can't live your life better than you do. That goes for everyone from friends who work at other law firms (all 2 of you) to the homeless guy I helped. I sure as hell can't be homeless. I know that. I would suck at it. I also don't play well with others. Thats why I work alone. I know that. Its a character flaw. Its my character flaw. And there is no way I would try to work in an office again. It just isn't me.
So don't sit back in your office and tell me that I can't handle something. Don't tell me that I didn't do something right. I assure you I do my best. I try. That's all I can say. But to sit there and criticize others when you don't know what the hell you are talking about is just wrong.
Whats the expression about walking a mile in my shoes? How about just half a mile? I don't get it. Look, write the facts. Don't make crap up to fit your ideas. I don't know what the hell I am doing as a father or a husband. I dont know what I am doing. I am learning. Am I supposed to rely on some expert to tell me? Really?
Dear Mr. Expert: Fuck you. I am glad you have a PhD or an MD or a FullofcrapD. That just means you went to school for a long time. It doesnt mean you know anything about my life. I appreciate that you wrote a book or read a book or once saw a book. I am glad for you. But how do you know what I can or cannot do or what I have or have not done? Did you pick up the phone and call me? No. Did you sit down and talk with me? No.
I am so tired of people judging. You know what? I am sure of very little in life. I dont know why. Its another character flaw, I guess. But I am sure of this: I try to be the best husband I know how to be. My wife tries to be the best wife she knows how to be. We try to be the best parents we know how to be. Not once have we said we can't manage it. Not once have we asked you for your opinion of how we are doing. Why? Because we are doing the best that we can fucking do. And if that isnt good enough for you then kiss my ass.
Is it hard? Yep. Does it suck sometimes? Yep. Have we laid in bed at night and questioned decisions we have made? Absolutely. Have we had a pity party once or twice? Probably. So what?
That doesnt mean we arent up to it. It just means we are human. We are people. We are trying to do the best we can do and we do it together.
So, please, stop sitting around and judging us. (This goes for you to Ms. Kindergarten Teacher who told us we were bad parents.) Stop telling us what we cant do. Just stop. We will make the decisions that we think are best when we think they are best based on what we know. We may make wrong decisions now and then. We may not be batting 1.000. But we are batting and that is all that matters.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Shut the fuck up
I was going to apologize in advance for the profanity, but someone told me recently that I don't curse (that is the proper word, not cuss) in person, but I do here. Sometimes, I do. I admit it. This post will have some profanity. If you don't like it, you will know what to do by the end of this post.
Be a fucking man. Stand up and say something. I am so tried of these pieces of crap who want to say bad crap and hide behind the Internet or post it behind someone's back. Is it that hard to man (or woman) up and say something to my face? Are you that fucking scared of me? Do you think I am going to hit you or beat the tar out of you? I promise I won't.
Look, not everyone likes me. I get it. I dont want everyone to like me. I dont need everyone to like me. My wife likes me. My kids like me - sometimes. My parents liked me, when they were alive. Okay, so my dad more than my mom. My friends (all 6 of them) like me. That works for me. If the rest of the world doesnt like me, then that is their loss. Because you know what? I may be short, hairless and a fuck up, but try to find someone more willing to go to bat for you, to stand up for you, or to help you out. Seriously, I don't mean to toot my own horn, but my friends know that they can pick up the phone and call me if they need anything - even at 12 in the morning.
So, some piece of crap carpenters dream (flat as a board and easy to screw) wants to talk smack about me? At least have the common courtesy to do it to my face. Is that really asking for too much? Would it be that hard to cc me on your email? Would it be that hard to pick up the stupid phone and call me? "Hey Jon, I think you are a piece of shit. I am going to tell Billy Smith." Fine. Be my guest. Its your opinion. You can say anything you want about me. But at least say it to me first.
Its not that hard. Hell, you can find me on Facebook, twitter, email, phone, anything. Are you that much of a mouse that you can't do it to my face? Really?
Look, I am not perfect. There, I said it. I have made plenty of mistakes in 38 years. I can think of mistakes I made in 2nd grade, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, well you get the fucking point. I have made mistakes every year I have been alive. I know it. Some are not that bad. Some are pretty bad. Some suck. Some are just funny now. I am not sorry I made mistakes. It happens. Its called being human. I own my mistakes. I make them, I take the consequence, and I learn from them. I think that is called living.
So, you think I screwed up? Big fucking deal. You want to tell other people? Its a free country. Tell anyone you want. But could you at least have the balls to say something to me first? Is it really asking too much. Oh, and if you are going to run your piehole about me, could you at least make sure its related to something else and you tell the whole story?
Look, one time, at band camp...........okay, fine there was no band camp. One time at summer camp, I made out with a girl. I did. I shouldnt have because I didnt really like her and I did it as a dare. I admit it. I screwed up. (This is a true story.) It was a mistake. But she didnt want to either. Turns out she was doing it as a dare too. That, my friends, is what Paul Harvey would call the rest of the story. Its kind of important to know.
So Mr. Chen or Mrs. Chen or Shim Chen, fuck you and fuck your high horse that you rode in on. If you don't like me, keep it to yourself. If you think I am a screw up, most people don't care about your opinion. If you have something to say to me, pick up that damn phone in your piece of crap fancy office that no one wants to see and dial my fucking phone. It will ring. I promise you. I will answer it. You can say whatever the hell you want to say about me. I dont care. I will let you say your peace. Then I get my turn to say mine. Deal?
If its not a deal, then shut the fuck up. No one wants to hear from a whiner who doesnt have the cojones to stand up and say it to someones face. I promise you that.
Have I made myself clear? Let me recap: I have made mistakes. I am not proud of them, but I assure you I have learned from every mistake I have made. I am not perfect. If you have a problem with something I have done, then tell me, dont go crying to the rest of the world. They have bigger problems than your whininess. I don't regret my mistakes. I learn from my mistakes. I am a better person today, May 14, 2012 then I was on May 13, 2012 and on May 12, 2012 and every day before that because I learn from my mistakes.
Now, go fuck off you loser. Get a fucking life and learn to be an adult. Am I clear?
Be a fucking man. Stand up and say something. I am so tried of these pieces of crap who want to say bad crap and hide behind the Internet or post it behind someone's back. Is it that hard to man (or woman) up and say something to my face? Are you that fucking scared of me? Do you think I am going to hit you or beat the tar out of you? I promise I won't.
Look, not everyone likes me. I get it. I dont want everyone to like me. I dont need everyone to like me. My wife likes me. My kids like me - sometimes. My parents liked me, when they were alive. Okay, so my dad more than my mom. My friends (all 6 of them) like me. That works for me. If the rest of the world doesnt like me, then that is their loss. Because you know what? I may be short, hairless and a fuck up, but try to find someone more willing to go to bat for you, to stand up for you, or to help you out. Seriously, I don't mean to toot my own horn, but my friends know that they can pick up the phone and call me if they need anything - even at 12 in the morning.
So, some piece of crap carpenters dream (flat as a board and easy to screw) wants to talk smack about me? At least have the common courtesy to do it to my face. Is that really asking for too much? Would it be that hard to cc me on your email? Would it be that hard to pick up the stupid phone and call me? "Hey Jon, I think you are a piece of shit. I am going to tell Billy Smith." Fine. Be my guest. Its your opinion. You can say anything you want about me. But at least say it to me first.
Its not that hard. Hell, you can find me on Facebook, twitter, email, phone, anything. Are you that much of a mouse that you can't do it to my face? Really?
Look, I am not perfect. There, I said it. I have made plenty of mistakes in 38 years. I can think of mistakes I made in 2nd grade, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, well you get the fucking point. I have made mistakes every year I have been alive. I know it. Some are not that bad. Some are pretty bad. Some suck. Some are just funny now. I am not sorry I made mistakes. It happens. Its called being human. I own my mistakes. I make them, I take the consequence, and I learn from them. I think that is called living.
So, you think I screwed up? Big fucking deal. You want to tell other people? Its a free country. Tell anyone you want. But could you at least have the balls to say something to me first? Is it really asking too much. Oh, and if you are going to run your piehole about me, could you at least make sure its related to something else and you tell the whole story?
Look, one time, at band camp...........okay, fine there was no band camp. One time at summer camp, I made out with a girl. I did. I shouldnt have because I didnt really like her and I did it as a dare. I admit it. I screwed up. (This is a true story.) It was a mistake. But she didnt want to either. Turns out she was doing it as a dare too. That, my friends, is what Paul Harvey would call the rest of the story. Its kind of important to know.
So Mr. Chen or Mrs. Chen or Shim Chen, fuck you and fuck your high horse that you rode in on. If you don't like me, keep it to yourself. If you think I am a screw up, most people don't care about your opinion. If you have something to say to me, pick up that damn phone in your piece of crap fancy office that no one wants to see and dial my fucking phone. It will ring. I promise you. I will answer it. You can say whatever the hell you want to say about me. I dont care. I will let you say your peace. Then I get my turn to say mine. Deal?
If its not a deal, then shut the fuck up. No one wants to hear from a whiner who doesnt have the cojones to stand up and say it to someones face. I promise you that.
Have I made myself clear? Let me recap: I have made mistakes. I am not proud of them, but I assure you I have learned from every mistake I have made. I am not perfect. If you have a problem with something I have done, then tell me, dont go crying to the rest of the world. They have bigger problems than your whininess. I don't regret my mistakes. I learn from my mistakes. I am a better person today, May 14, 2012 then I was on May 13, 2012 and on May 12, 2012 and every day before that because I learn from my mistakes.
Now, go fuck off you loser. Get a fucking life and learn to be an adult. Am I clear?
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
I dont know what to call this
Yep, I dont have a title for this. I dont even know why I am writing this. Therapeutic? Because I have nothing better to do at 8:45 on a Tuesday night? Because I am scared? I dont know.
Preface: I know I have not had a rough life. Its been pretty good. I get that. So this is not a pity party and don't read it that way.
Remember when you were a kid......did you ever think about what your life would be like as an adult? Did you ever wonder what would happen at 30? 35? 40? I did. I distinctly remember two things. I was in high school. My dad had a business dinner. It was with a guy who I knew. I came down the stairs and told them both I would be a millionaire by 35. Um, 35 came and went. No million dollars. Not even close.
My other memory: growing up, watching my dad, and thinking "That is me at 35." You know the song Cats in the Cradle? Its a great song. If you dont know it, listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUwjNBjqR-c If you do know it, listen to it again.
So I grew up and when I was young, say, under 10, I would watch my dad and think "Why does he shake like that?" I had no idea. None whatsoever. He was 45. I heard people say things but I didn't know what it meant. I was about 10 and I remember a discussion with my parents. They told me that my dad had Parkinson's Disease. I distinctly remember asking if I would get it and they told me no. Looking back, its the first time I can recall my parents telling me something that simply wasn't true. I didn't know it then. I know it now. I won't bore you with the details.
As I got older, I realized how much it affected my dad's life. Oh, he still made it to the important events. He was there at my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding. The last event he was at was my law school graduation. He died a few months later. But, it still had an impact on what he could eat, when, what he did, his driving.
I also started looking at my family history. My dad had it. My grandfather had it. My grandmother had dementia. The freaking trifecta. Oh, and that doesn't even include my mom's side of the family and the cancer that wouldn't go away. Happy happy, joy joy - or some such nonsense. I decided in high school that I was going to end up like my dad. I don't know if it was a conscience decision or if it just happened. I don't know.
I remember talking to my wife, then my girlfriend, about it. We were serious. I told her I wanted to have kids young because I didn't want to be like my dad - having a difficult time with a young child. He was 35 when I was born. I wanted to make sure I had kids long before that. So I did. 26, 28, 30. Then, at 35, my wife got pregnant and I was having a kid at 35. It was such a happy time.
I also noticed a few shakes now and then. It was stress. It was not enough potassium. I even called his neurologist to make sure. Before he died, I had talked to him about it. He assured me it wasn't genetic. After he died, my mom told me he had testing and his other neurologist said it wasn't genetic. I guess.
So at 36, 37 I noticed it now and then. I even went to the doctor. And I don't go to the doctor. She assured me it was stress. I went with it.
A few weeks ago, it came back. I was putting together a toy and was having a difficult time. I knew it. But I could hide it. Its not rocket science. I have spent most of my life hiding my fear of this. How hard could it be to hide a bit of a shake?
Tonight was dinner. Eating is easy. I do it alot. And I like it. As I was eating the rice, my hand started shaking. Not a ton. No one else noticed it. But I did. It wasn't a stress shake. It wasn't a "OOPS, I overdid it today" shake. It wasn't a lack of potassium muscle twitch.
So now here I sit. Sad. Confused. Upset. I don't know why this happened. I dont know if there is a reason. I just know I have spent the last 28 years dreading this day.
Funny. The end of Cats in the Cradle:
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
It occurred to me tonight. I have grown up just like him.
Preface: I know I have not had a rough life. Its been pretty good. I get that. So this is not a pity party and don't read it that way.
Remember when you were a kid......did you ever think about what your life would be like as an adult? Did you ever wonder what would happen at 30? 35? 40? I did. I distinctly remember two things. I was in high school. My dad had a business dinner. It was with a guy who I knew. I came down the stairs and told them both I would be a millionaire by 35. Um, 35 came and went. No million dollars. Not even close.
My other memory: growing up, watching my dad, and thinking "That is me at 35." You know the song Cats in the Cradle? Its a great song. If you dont know it, listen to it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUwjNBjqR-c If you do know it, listen to it again.
So I grew up and when I was young, say, under 10, I would watch my dad and think "Why does he shake like that?" I had no idea. None whatsoever. He was 45. I heard people say things but I didn't know what it meant. I was about 10 and I remember a discussion with my parents. They told me that my dad had Parkinson's Disease. I distinctly remember asking if I would get it and they told me no. Looking back, its the first time I can recall my parents telling me something that simply wasn't true. I didn't know it then. I know it now. I won't bore you with the details.
As I got older, I realized how much it affected my dad's life. Oh, he still made it to the important events. He was there at my high school graduation, my college graduation, my wedding. The last event he was at was my law school graduation. He died a few months later. But, it still had an impact on what he could eat, when, what he did, his driving.
I also started looking at my family history. My dad had it. My grandfather had it. My grandmother had dementia. The freaking trifecta. Oh, and that doesn't even include my mom's side of the family and the cancer that wouldn't go away. Happy happy, joy joy - or some such nonsense. I decided in high school that I was going to end up like my dad. I don't know if it was a conscience decision or if it just happened. I don't know.
I remember talking to my wife, then my girlfriend, about it. We were serious. I told her I wanted to have kids young because I didn't want to be like my dad - having a difficult time with a young child. He was 35 when I was born. I wanted to make sure I had kids long before that. So I did. 26, 28, 30. Then, at 35, my wife got pregnant and I was having a kid at 35. It was such a happy time.
I also noticed a few shakes now and then. It was stress. It was not enough potassium. I even called his neurologist to make sure. Before he died, I had talked to him about it. He assured me it wasn't genetic. After he died, my mom told me he had testing and his other neurologist said it wasn't genetic. I guess.
So at 36, 37 I noticed it now and then. I even went to the doctor. And I don't go to the doctor. She assured me it was stress. I went with it.
A few weeks ago, it came back. I was putting together a toy and was having a difficult time. I knew it. But I could hide it. Its not rocket science. I have spent most of my life hiding my fear of this. How hard could it be to hide a bit of a shake?
Tonight was dinner. Eating is easy. I do it alot. And I like it. As I was eating the rice, my hand started shaking. Not a ton. No one else noticed it. But I did. It wasn't a stress shake. It wasn't a "OOPS, I overdid it today" shake. It wasn't a lack of potassium muscle twitch.
So now here I sit. Sad. Confused. Upset. I don't know why this happened. I dont know if there is a reason. I just know I have spent the last 28 years dreading this day.
Funny. The end of Cats in the Cradle:
And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
He'd grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
It occurred to me tonight. I have grown up just like him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
