Trip Through My Mind

Taking It In Stride

Taking It In Stride

My lungs would not expand enough to sate my needs. What little air could be gasped was heavy and burned my throat in the cold morning darkness. The thermostat had read 5 degrees Fahrenheit when I pulled the door closed behind me. Music playing in my ears, more to drown out the bitter winter wind than to fill the silence.

…almost there…

My footing gives a little under my weight forcing me to half stumble, half lunge over the remaining sheet of ice. A twinge of pain rockets up my calf and traverses my outer knee. I mentally check for other areas which may be hurting as I shorten my steps.

…just a little bit more…

My head starts to swim, my thundering pulse threatens to drown out the song playing in my ears. If only I could get one deep breath, I will be able to clear out the weight compressing my chest. I straighten up and pull my stomach tighter. My legs reach out for distance as I come around the corner. The streetlamp lights the sidewalk in front of me as I crest the hill. My chest expands in a final effort and the barriers break. Cold January air expands every passage of my lungs and I can breathe again. Glancing over my shoulder into the descending darkness, I turn left and push on before my steps can falter. There is no time for quitting…

…for I am a runner.

Running. Some call it a sport—others a torture. I call it therapy for those who refuse to seek professional help. It is a time where the chemistry and physiology of your body are in overdrive—creating healthy hormones, building muscles, and cleansing the pores of the toxicity of life. Running can also be filled with aches, pains, and the lasting effects of being deprived of air from pushing beyond your limits. However, at its core, running is a solitary exercise which allows one to get inside his thoughts. To me, it is a waking dream where I can explore any thought or idea without distractions. Running is my therapy. The streets are where I run my crazy away.

I am a morning runner—which for those who might have known the younger me, is quite ironic. I was not what you would call a morning person. Some may know what I mean. I was THAT guy who needed three alarm clocks, all of which were ignored until the roommate burst in the door screaming. Now, I still have alarms, but they are hours before the sun breaks the horizon. I like to think it was due to embracing life a little more and not the fact of getting older. It could be the latter. Either way, I was able to use this “found” time to begin running more consistently.
I started running in the morning as a way to get out and get motivated for the day. What I had not foreseen was it also helps relieve stress and increase focus throughout the day. The dark empty streets are the perfect canvas to write the story of my day. Beginning with a deep breath and a focus toward the future, I challenge myself with every step. I push further with each morning and explore more streets. Through the cold mornings, my resolve is tested but, it doesn’t begin with facing the cold. No, it starts when my single alarm chirps and I throw back the covers to begin my day.

It has been over a few years since I began running again. I ran many events, contributed to multiple charities, and became a better person. Running became my gateway drug for cycling, charity work, and community involvement. Am I better because I run? I do not know. But what I do know is since that cold January morning, I have challenged myself to climb the hill faster, not always living up to the challenge. Some days, I even accomplish my goal.

Until next time…

jerry b.

Top Four Frustrations of Social Media

Love it or hate it, social media is here to stay. No longer is there need for verbal conversation with a person in the same room when you can use your phone to send short text messages and Facebook pokes. Twitter helps you reduce your thoughts to 140 characters all the while being completely anonymous. Yep, social media is here to stay. People have whole relationships on social media and may never meet in person. As it changes names and form, it imbeds itself so deeply in our lives that our physical interactions are reduced even more. Social media reminds me of the end result of a bad sci-fi movie of the future with an electronic dependent civilization. Since it is here, I must admit I am one of those who embraces and uses this form of communication. I am probably promoting this article on at least three forms of social media besides this blog. Yes, I drank the Kool-Aid and became one of the collectives.

Now, just because I use social media, doesn’t mean I completely agree with all of the things that go along with the medium. One of my biggest pet peeves is the equivalent to the chain letter from high school only on social media. These little annoyances pop up from your trusted friends who feel the need to spoil your day with a guilt trip call to action in order to save this cute little kitten or some other equally emotional cause. All you have to do is share this link on your timeline, twitter feed, or Google page. By doing so, you become the manipulator of the next guilt trip.

NEWS FLASH: Posting something on your wall never saved that damn kitten.

Now that we have cleared up this little mess and put it to bed, let’s take a look at a few other areas which annoy the hell out of…well, me.

NO, in fact, I do not want to play Candy Crush. I have an addictive personality and if you get me started on a game, I am likely to lose track of the rest of the world for a couple weeks until an intervention is carried out. Please keep that silly invite to yourself as well as your new high score. Candy Crush is the new Farmville on the annoyance meter. Stop playing and look up from your phone. There is a whole world out there to explore. Read a book or something.
I have seen this meme. If by seeing, you meant it has been shared by every known person on the internet. I will admit it was funny the first three or four times, but you are late to the funny party and should have gotten the hint when you also have seen it over and over the past month.
Speaking of memes, whoever is creating memes needs to get some new pictures. Can we agree to retire the following images:
1. Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka – just creepy on so many levels
2. Patrick Stewart’s Captain Picard- yes, it was funny to have his raised hand captioned with a vulgar word the first fifty times.
3. Lawrence Fishburne’s Morpheus – I get it, you have a choice between the two pills, how about giving me both- we will act like this never happened.
4. Any Victorian Era Sketch – who ever dug up the old Hallmark cards and started throwing insulting phrases, commentary on drinking habits, and “how I really don’t like you” phrases should be committed to a room with every meme plastered to the walls as a form of punishment.
What constellation are you? What character in Game of Thrones are you? What horrific monster are you? What type of idiot are you? Oh, the last one is the only one that I think should be played. Yes, the annoying “What <fill in the blank> are you?” chain post. I do not care about which character you are in any fictional television show. Want to know a secret, neither do the rest of your friends. We have already figured out what type of idiot you are – the one that plays silly Facebook games.

I am sure there are many more annoying things about Facebook and social media in general, but I should wrap up here to allow my blood pressure to come back down to normal. Besides, it is my turn on Words with Friends. Did you see my high score posted on Facebook?

Until next time…

jerry b.

Why?

“If you hire people just because they can do a job, they’ll work for your money. But if you hire people who believe what you believe, they’ll work for you with blood, sweat, and tears.”…Simon Sinek

I am not a difficult person. Really, I try not to complain much, I work as hard as possible for as many hours as it takes, and I usually am flexible. Everyone has motivation and motivation is what keeps them engaged in what needs to be completed. Discovering and capitalizing on someone’s motivation is the key link between happy employees and corporate growth. In my case, it isn’t money that gets my blood pumping. Nor am I excited by a sense of accomplishment, as many people can accomplish formatted tasks. What makes me willing to get out of bed in the morning is the “Why” of the company in which I work. What is the “why”? I am so glad you asked because without your question, this article would probably have to end here. So, let’s explore the “why”, shall we?

“People don’t buy WHAT do you do, they buy WHY you do it.”…Simon Sinek

Over the years, I have worked for companies where I know exactly what they do, how they do it, and have been a part of teams which produced the end results. In other words, I was there to get a paycheck. Once the interest or challenge waned, it was time to move to the next project or company. Oh, the life of a consultant. However, I have also been on a job where what the company or team did was not as important as why they did it. Those situations are the inspiration for me to come to work each day with the desire to do everything in my power to make it successful. Simon Sinek discusses the why in his book “Start with Why”. Haven’t read that book? Well, you should because it dives into the motivations of successful companies such as Apple Inc. and Southwest Airlines, which were not just founded on their why but shared it with the world. They created a culture with their customers which then pulls them in making them want to be a part of the culture. Customers purchased these companies’ products not because it was the cheapest, as anyone who purchased the new iPad or a MacBook Pro in recent years can attest, but because they wanted to be involved in the culture of the company, the WHY. This idea is the difference between collecting a paycheck and being driven to success at work. Instead of me rambling on about the benefits, I would suggest reading Sinek’s book. Now back to my point, stay with me here.

What happens is the company that started with a powerful why surrenders to the what they do? When process, the all-powerful bottom line, and goals become the driving force, the company forfeits the culture which made them strong. The work environment becomes a place where procedure reigns supreme and organizational structures hold higher importance than the morale of the teams. In short, the business loses its soul and with it, the hearts of the employees.

In the fast-paced world we have with instant gratification and everyone- gets- a -trophy, who cares about the soul of the company? Well, I for one do. I am a customer of many of these businesses. From airlines to fast food, I have to interact with a person who is getting a paycheck and not actively participating in the company. The bored, slack-jawed mannerisms make every interaction with another person in business infuriating.

The time of pride in one’s work seems to be lost forever, leaving only the collection of the meager paycheck remaining. . Even in this, there is contention as the entitlement mentality has infected all aspects of our culture. Not only have our companies lost their why, but our culture has as well. We are no longer going to work because we love our jobs (why), but because we just want the paycheck (what). Where once we would proudly answer “I am a (fill in the blank)” we now tell people what we do, “I push papers all day”. To add insult to injury, we are passing this new legacy on to our children who will grow up with an even darker view of the world around them.

So, what do we do? I wish I had the answer for everyone. It is a personal quest you must embark on to find the answer to why you do what you do. Only you can answer the why. Maybe, there is a remote chance, a sliver of hope if you will, where everyone seeks out understanding and searches for why, it may become infectious. Maybe, it will change the world around us. Maybe, you will walk into work and each of you will have a new sense of why we do things and not what we do. Maybe…

Until next time…

jerry b

Airport Diaries #3: Rules of Engagement – Part 1

Ok, it is that time again. Time to pack the bags and prepare for another exhilarating journey to an exotic location. Well, in all honesty, it’s another business trip. So, take the exotic out of the equation. Many flights I take these days do happen to be of an international flavor but mostly they consist of getting on a plane, traveling long hours on said plane, extended times in cramped cars with questionable drivers, and finally rushing to get back on a plane. Between these moments, there are business meetings, smiling, late night dinners, and wishing I was back in the hotel getting a little rest from the jet lag. However, while that may be exotic to some, for me, it is more of a routine of step one, then step two, and so on.

When getting ready to depart on one of these engaging affairs, the best strategy is to scan the crowd of those waiting to board the flight. It is a mental game of who- would- you –wish- gets- the- seat- next- to- you and which ones you hope are furthest from your seat. Will it be the guy with the nervous shakes and cold sweats as if this is his first trip? Maybe it will be the couple whose giggles indicate they will spend at least some portion of the flight striving for their “mile high club” membership. Whoever it is, please please don’t let it be the family of six with the kids running around the seats smacking each other and screeching . Oh, the game of “please don’t be the person next to me,” can be quite amusing, if a little precarious, while waiting for a flight. For that matter, I don’t want most of these people to be in the row in front, behind, across the aisles, or anywhere within three rows of me.

As we board the airtight flying cylinder, let me warn you of a few little rules – well maybe more like suggestions- I take quite seriously. I would print them off and hand them out to the masses waiting to join me on my flight, but the last time I attempted this little public service, the nice TSA agent had a conversation with me. Therefore, I am submitting this little list of flying etiquette for your review. Consider yourself served.

The first rule, umm suggestion, would have to be: Don’t wear a bottle of cologne, perfume, baby oil, or any other fragrant application. Keep in mind an airplane is a self-contained, airtight, pressurized, flying vessel in which we will be locked in and sharing air for the next ten hours. A little over-zealousness with the fragrance and the entire plane full of passengers on board will smell just like you, and btw-you stink. Instead of putting on an extra dab, or handful, of your favorite olfactory enhancement to cover up the fact that you have not showered the entirety of your trip, do something novel…SHOWER.
Be Prepared! You know you are getting ready to board a plane. Have your boarding pass ready, know your seat number, and get any of the essential belongings out of your bag in advance before you waste our time blocking the aisles as you look for you micro MP3 player which happens to be in the bottom of your hastily packed carry-on. The rest of us joining you on this plane would like to get going to our destination and rid ourselves of the presence of the other 300 souls traveling with us. Ok, I will admit if I was not locked in this tube with you, I probably still would not like you very much anyway.
Speaking of carry-on luggage, the sign that shows the allowed carry-on size is not a suggestion, it is based on the fact that the engineers of the aircraft did not plan for passengers bringing a bag big enough to smuggle small children out of the country as well as your trombone. For the record, I have seen a full brass band try to get all their instruments into the overhead compartments. They were shocked when the last three members were asked to check their carry-on. Keep it simple, take only what you need, and check the rest people. We would like to have a place for our bags too.
When we finally sit down, I should warn you of something quite important to the comfort of all parties involved. I really do not want to have a conversation with you. I do not want to know your name, where you are from, or where you are going. The flight is not a mixer to meet new friends. In fact, how about we just agree to coexist until the doors open upon landing. It is not personal, but actually practical. If we do not speak, then there won’t be that uncomfortable realization that we do not like each other and are stuck together for the next ten hours. See, very practical.
One final note before the doors close, this is not your living room and the chair your ass will occupy for the remainder of the trip is not your lazy-boy. So, please refrain from spreading out as if you are the only person in this row. Last time I checked, I paid just as much as you to have for the microscopic space the airline chose to rent us. You stay in your seat and share the armrest, dammit!

At no point is flying confused with a wonderful event. It is a practical means to an end. While on the plane, set aside your selfish persona and think about the other passengers. As mentioned, a few things will help this horrible form of paid torture be a little more pleasant for the rest of us.

Until next time…

jerry b

So Addicted To, The Things You Do…

I am an addict. Yes, that is correct, I will admit it to the world. I can’t stop myself. My addiction impacts life by bringing strife into my personal life, causing some unwanted attention at work, and is something I cannot bring myself to change. My life is inconceivable without the instant gratification my addiction gives me. So, here today, I publically announce my problem in hopes of taking the first steps in coping with my addiction.

“I’m so addicted to
All the things you do…
…It’s not like anything
When you’re loving me”

Addicted…Saving Abel

<clears throat>

“I am addicted to my smartphone. Yes, I said it. I have a problem and admit it. “

I do not know if there are other smartphone addicts out there. I am sure there are a few closet addicts hiding their problem better than I do. My smartphone is like an extension of my arm, constantly in my hands as I look through email, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat and all of the messages arriving through the millions of chat programs. My thumbs are in a constantly flurry of motion. Recently, I changed phones and while I miss my previous one dearly, I am excited for the new addition, I mean, the phone I have started using. The phone gives me a feeling of being connected to everyone around the country, world, and across the house. Yes, I have sent messages to my wife while she was upstairs and I was downstairs. I see it as being efficient even though some may call it lazy. I embrace technology and accept its multitude of uses.

Looking for a support group to help me with my smartphone addiction, I searched the internet-on my phone. What I found were some really cool discussion groups along with some sites my computer firewall blocked (not sure what those may be but I find that scary). However, my search was in vain as I did not find like-minded people. Maybe the other smartphone addicts are unaware of their problem or are not willing to admit to their problem. Let’s see if I can help others realize just how much their smartphone is a part of their lives, then I won’t feel so alone when I do look up from my phone.

You may be a smartphone addict if:

Your office at work was completely remodeled yet you were unaware of the changes due to walking around reading your phone-when did they add the new section?
You do not realize someone is speaking to you unless they first make a “ding” noise.
You have a mental image of what Siri looks like and wonder what it would be like to spend some time with her in person.
You have a panic attack if your battery drops below 30% without a charging cable.
Your response to every question is “there’s an app for that”.
You plan your vacation based on your cellphone coverage as well as making sure you can carry all your phone accessories in the carryon compartments.
You purchased a phone for your six-year-old so you can text with her from across the room.
Your nightmares are about having to use a “flip” phone to text.
You break out in a cold sweat at the very mention of “data usage restriction” by your phone provider.
You are reading this post on your phone instead of a computer.

Being a smartphone addict is not necessarily a bad thing. I would venture to say that if you believe you are not addicted to your phone then you are in denial and should just learn acceptance and take the first step to recovery. I am seeking others like me so that we can meet in the dark basement of a community center, drink bad coffee, and text message our stories to each other.

I am easy to find walking down the street because I am the one who is laughing at the latest meme viewed on my liquid crystal display as I walk out into traffic. Please do me a favor and text me a warning. I may not listen to your shouts as I read the latest tweet.

Until next time…

jerry b

Office Monologue: LUNCH!

Ah, it is lunchtime at the office, a designated time when you get to leave your worries and work behind for a brief moment of reprieve. The massive amount of coffee is no longer filling the nutritional needs of your over-stressed body. Some real substance is needed in your body to energize your mind, after all you have a busy afternoon finding all those new and exciting ways to slack off. Part of the daily ritual is to lock your personal items in the vault, umm, I mean desk drawer, and then loudly profess to all within earshot, “I am going to LUNCH!” This is usually followed by repeating the statement to everyone you pass in the hall on the way to your company’s designated “no work” zone called the cafeteria.

After the battle for the microwave has been waged, the quest begins for a private table that does not wobble like a tilt-o-whirl and upon successful conquest of said table, you settle in to respond to the book that has been calling your name- it is finally time for lunch. What better time than the mid-way point of the day to tune out the world and leave all the stress behind for just a short period of time? You breathe a sigh and settle in for lunch until you see the shadow blocking your reading light. If you ignore the person behind you they might go away. If only you had that kind of luck.

Then you hear the dreaded questions, “Hey, are you on lunch? I just have a quick question. Mind if I sit down? ” You wonder if the sandwich paused between your lips and spread of food-like items before you might have given them a little clue that yes you are at lunch. With only a brief hour of the day to get a break from the monotony of your job, why would they believe you would want to spend your time sitting across from them answering questions that most likely could be answered a mere 43 minutes from now?

As they sit uninvited across from you, you slowly lower the sandwich back down to the plate without a bite taken and give them the best “go away” look you can muster all the while mentally running through all the responses which could potentially get them to leave you to your lunch. Which responses should we pull out of the mental grab bag today?

“I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t mind me coming to your house when you are having sex with your wife and giving you an update on the request you are about to make. I hear from the last office party, that she really likes to put on a show for strangers.”
“Lunch? Oh no, I was considering giving the sandwich to those kids on late night television. I always say, “Why give them 50 cents a day when you can give them a whole sandwich?”
Closing your eyes tightly and muttering, “He isn’t real. If I ignore him, he will go away like all the other imaginary people. Oh I miss my meds.”
“Sure have a seat.” As you slowly gather your stuff and walk away.
“I am a little congested today. I hope you don’t mind my chewing with my mouth open.”
“Am I at lunch? No, I usually sit in here with food in front of me to conduct my meetings. I find that it helps people to feel powerful when they can keep me from eating my food.”
Reach across the table to grab their tie and wipe your mouth. “Thanks, we have been out of napkins.”

Most likely your lunchtime annoyance will continue to sit down not waiting for a response from you. However, with a few well-placed responses, you could eventually gain a reputation around the office, which will leave your future lunches free of disruptions. Just think of all the fun you can have tormenting them throughout the conversation they have wrought on you. A good rule of thumb is to remember all the manners your parents taught you and then do the opposite. Hopefully, you will get your point across.

In the end, your lunch is lost to a work conversation, though your co-worker is no doubt baffled by the smirk you have had on your face the entire time. It is time to look for a better place to have a little break. Maybe you could reserve a conference room to hide in while at lunch. Wait, there is a supply closet that might have room for a chair and tv tray. That sounds promising.

Until next time…

jerry b

Tributes to “Winter’s Geniuses”

Most of the country is blanketed in snow and temperatures are dipping deeper than a seasoned pole dancer. We have even given this period of cold an unofficial name, Polar Vortex. OOHHHH doesn’t that sound menacing? To me, it sounds like something Doctor Evil might say with his little pinkie at the corner of his mouth. So let’s face it, we all know it is cold in North America. Many can look outside and see the four-foot ice sickle pulling their gutters down. Why is this tremendous cold happening? It is winter.

As I was enjoying the peace and quiet of my home on this winter day (actually, I was going nuts with cabin fever and trying to figure out a way to escape), I was perusing YouTube when I came across an old favorite series of commercials put out by Anheuser-Busch, “Real Men of Genius”. Now, nothing brings back good times like former Survivor lead singer, Dave Bickler’s over-the- top spoofing of 80’s music layered over the announcer, Pete Stackler. Each commercial pointed out those underappreciated professionals and, my personal favorites, the people who have a very unique take on life.

Need a refresher on the commercials? Check out what I found on YouTube for “Real Men of Genius”.

Today, I want to show my support and appreciation to some of our cold weather real men (or women) of genius. In honor of some iconic commercials, I tip my hat to you cold weather friends. This is for you. (Cue cheesy 80’s music)

You have the cleanest driveway on the block. Thanks to your diligence in shoveling the snow to clear the path. Never mind that you moved mass of amounts of the fine powder into the cleaned street, forcing the rest of us to drive through your discarded piles. Never mind that our cars spin out as you wave hello. Damn, your driveway looks so nice. We salute you mister driveway cleaner.
The forecast may be for a slight chance of snow but you will venture out undaunted. You rush madly through the grocery store clearing the shelves of bread, eggs, milk, and Little Debbie cakes. You will not be trapped in your house without an eggs sandwich and a frosty glass of milk. Never mind that most of the food is perishable or that you are lactose intolerant. This does not stop you from buying a year’s supply just in case. We understand as we have to fight you through the aisles to get our groceries. Here’s to you mister compulsive snow storm shopper.
In a cloud of black smoke and howl of oversized tires, you venture out onto the streets. The blizzard will not stop you. You have waited all year to have a chance to show your snow-driving prowess. Beware simple SUV and front-wheel drive cars because a real vehicle is flying down the road at incredible speeds weaving in and out of traffic. Your bumper is so high, another ice-age would only be a challenge for you. However, stopping is the one thing you are unable to do in your jacked-up joy with the colossus center of gravity that you spent your entire life savings on. Yes, we will smile at you as our mere mortal vehicles slowly pass your overturned monstrosity on the side of the road and think “how cool” you really are to us. We salute you Mr. Monster truck driver.
What would we do without our car thermometer? You earn the bragging rights to the lowest temperatures posted on Facebook. Twitter followers will retweet your image to millions- you will go viral. You know we love the little minus before the numbers, or even better when it is so cold the thermometer only says “ice”. Yes, it is that cold. What would we do without you to tell us how cold it is? You are better than the over-paid weather man for giving us the low down. Here’s to you mister dashboard temperature picture poster.
Each year, you share your opinion on how you wish for warmer days, no more snow, and more sunshine. Though you have lived here all your life, you seem surprised by the winters. You need to be heard. As the temperatures drop and the snow begins to fall, have no fear, you will be there to make sure we all understand how you do not like it. We truly appreciate your droning on and on every day between November and March about how miserable you feel. And really appreciate that you stay in town during the winter just to tell us how much you don’t like it instead of taking vacation during this time and denying us your sunny disposition. Just know we appreciate all you do. Here’s to you mister cold weather complainer.

Feel free to add your list of favorites to winter’s unsung real men of genius. I am sure you know some more.

Until next time…

jerry b

Broken Promises

The exchange of presents is completed and the recycling bins are brimming with the discarded holiday refuse. The holiday feast has been consumed with the appropriate gluttony. Most of the crazy store sales have ended. For those of you who are reading this, the world did not end and you survived another holiday season. It is time to look forward into the New Year with excitement and hope. Time to make the New Year’s resolution.

The New Year’s resolution has roots in ancient civilization. The idea of resolutions originated in ancient Babylon where promises were made to the gods of the time. Promises were made to return items borrowed and pay the debts to the debtors wiping the slate clean. Throughout the centuries, new creative ways to wipe the slate clean of the past and begin anew emerged. Modern resolutions tend to focus on improving our physical health with an over-priced gym membership or the reaffirmation to breaking nasty habits like smoking, drinking, or waking up next to strangers on a regular basis instead of being about a commitment to others. In other words, we make a conscious effort to begin each year setting ourselves up for failure. Now, that sounds healthy, doesn’t it?

Looking Back to Look Forward

Before you declare your life changing commitments for the coming year, take a few moments to look over your resolutions from the previous years. Did you invest in the gym membership that went unused after a few weeks? Did you proclaim that this is your “last cigarette” only to go out a few days later to buy another pack? Maybe you promised to have a more positive view on life as you complained that it would be doomed to failure? Year after year, the same promises are professed only to be given up within the first six weeks of the New Year.

According to the infallible resource of Wikipedia, “eighty-eight percent of those who set New Year’s resolutions fail despite the fact that 52% of the study’s participants were confident of success at the beginning.”

I do not know how you feel, but if I failed in something 88% of the time, I might rethink my methodology. Personally, I would like to have six-pack abs and the endurance of a twenty-something year old, but the reality is the time and investment required to achieve these resolutions would only be possible if I was independently wealthy or unemployed. The former is not likely in the fore-seeable future and the latter is, shiver, not something I would hope for anytime in the near future.

With New Year upon us, now is a good time to look at the exaggerated resolutions made in the past and learn from the mistakes. Start with something small and achievable to build upon in the years to come. Yes, it would be great to give more time to charity, become more pious in your devotions, or spend more time with family but let’s face it, if you have not been doing these things before now, you are probably not going to magically start just because the calendar year has changed. Try this for a resolution, become more realistic. Trust me, once you start down this path, you will have fewer issues with disappointment and less public humiliation.

One of the major issues with New Year resolutions can be rooted in the idea that you will change everything about yourself. In a manic moment, a decision is made to become something that you innately are not. If the resolution can be rooted in your reality, the chances of success are likely to increase. To be successful it is time to change your perception of the commitment. This year, make a commitment not to make a resolution. Instead, begin with setting easily achievable small goals. A subtle shift in your expectations could mean the difference between the embarrassment of explaining the failure in your publically proclaimed resolutions and the actual achievement of your goals. Instead of professing, you will drop five clothing sizes, how about starting with something a little more realistic, like not having that second (or third) portion of dinner? Refrain from swearing off drinking and maybe just plan on curbing your Friday night drunk fest that leads to the walk of shame on Saturday morning. The little things mean the difference between utter humiliation and potential success.

For the readers who have already gone out and purchased a new workout outfit, signed up to the over-priced 24-hour gym, and scheduled your personal trainer congrats. For those that are planning to swear off the booze, I raise my glass of New Year’s cheer to you. We will look for you around the end of January and have the barstool saved for your return. To all the smokers that are planning to quit, please make your intension clear so we can avoid you and your surly mood for the next few days. I wish you all the best of luck and just know that we are secretly taking bets on the outcome.

Until next time…

jerry b

That’s Right, I Am Better Than You

ar·ro·gance [ar-uh-guh ns]

adjective: making claims or pretensions to superior importance or rights; overbearingly assuming; insolently proud

What is the difference between confidence and arrogance? To give an example of self-confidence, let us look at a six-year-old child. When kids start to learn to ride a bike, they are shy and hesitant. Fear gets in the way of their success. However, once the training wheels are off, they lose the fear, becoming comfortable with their abilities. The thought of falling slips further from their minds as they gain self-confidence. The newly achieved goal creates a sense of pride and the young rider stands a little taller with a confident air. However, if this same child was the only six year old in the neighborhood who could ride a bike while the others were still using training wheels, then their sense of pride and confidence increases. That kid understands they had accomplished something no other kid their age around them could manage. The confidence and pride are fine, however if the feelings go further with proclamations of superiority over their peers then confidence turns into arrogance. Well, until an older child comes along and knocks them off their bike. At that point, there will be tears and a little less arrogance. Kids have a way of humbling each other. How do you know if an attitude is self-confidence or arrogance?

You might be arrogant if:

You are more knowledgeable about the sport, team, and strategies than those professionals who have made it their career. Sure the professionals are getting paid millions to entertain people like you as you sit on the couch, screaming at the television. I am sure the team would have won the game in question, had you been there to correct their mistakes.
Even though you do not have any education or experience, you know more about economics, law, or government than those who you could not be bothered to vote into office. As an added criterion, you are happy to constantly share your thoughts in said areas, with anyone who is near you when you have these brilliant insights into how everything can be instantly better.
You believe just because once you picked up an intoxicated barfly, now you are so desirable people should feel lucky you are dating them. Your new attitude also includes a willingness to school your friends on what the members of the opposite sex want. Arrogance and mind reading abilities, yeah you are the whole package.
Your inflated ego will not allow you to accept a job you feel is beneath your station. Even if said job would allow you to pay your bills. You feel justified in your beliefs because you were once a high-ranking person at your previous job. The fact that the previous job consisted of three people and one of them was the janitor really does not factor into your belief.
If you put out your personal beliefs and opinions on the web on a semi-regular basis believing that someone is actually interested in what you have to say or think. This belief extends to the novel you have not written, the website you have not launched, and marketing plan you rattle on about to anyone that will listen. (Again, we are not talking about me here, right?)

This list highlights only a few of the signs of arrogance that might indicate you are one of “those” people. By the way if you are one of “those” people we are taking great pleasure in talking about you behind your back. If you are counted in the ranks of the arrogant, embrace your superiority as, you are the only one who believes that you are better than the rest of us.

Until next time…

jerryb.

End of Innocence: Empathy

Wait it’s just about to break
It’s more than I can take
Everything’s about to change
I feel it in my veins
It’s not going away
Everything’s about to change
“War of Change”…Thousand Foot Crutch

Standing in line at the grocery store with his mother, a boy was bored and wondering why he had to come along instead of being out having fun on a nice day. At eleven, he would rather have spent his Saturday afternoon anywhere beside the grocery store. While his limited group of friends was out riding their bikes and laughing, he was pushing a cart around the store following his mother. Impatience to get the errands finished darkened his mood because all he wanted to do was to go out to play.

In line right behind the mother and son, was a group of teenage girls with their collection of soda bottles and potato chips. Though the boy wasn’t at the “noticing girls” age, he envied their laughter and good spirits. Wishing he could be having fun was one more reason to add to his sour mood as he sighed and moved the cart to the end of the checkout lane. His mother was smiling and chatting with the checkout lady and as always, sharing details he was sure were not important enough to keep him away from his afternoon plans. Then all envy of the laughing girls evaporated as the ringleader in the group chose that moment to expand her commentary loudly enough for people in the adjoining checkout lanes to hear.

“Well, we might get there in time if this old lady would shut her blabbing mouth and hurry her fat ass up. Does she think we want to stand here all day and listen to her go on and on? Come on already!”

Moments passed before anyone moved. The only sound was the laughter from the other girls in the group who mumbled their agreement. The boy watched as his mother’s face changed from shades of pink to red. Her eyes, smiling a moment before, glistened with tears. The checkout woman, embarrassed by the actions of the girls, quietly handed his mother the receipt and glared at the group of obnoxious girls in line. Turning towards the boy, the mother pushed the cart towards the door and out into the sunny afternoon that now seemed a little gloomier than just a few moments before.

Silence fell on the two as they drove home. The boy watched as his mother fought with her emotions. She was none of the things the girls had called her. She was young compared to the other parents he knew. She had an infectious smile that warmed others and was always there for other people ready to listen and leave them lighter in spirits. She was strong of heart and of spirit. Why would those girls say such mean things to her?

Though his mother tried to hide them, her emotions were nearly palpable to the boy. The boy felt his mother’s emotions. He could feel the anger, the hurt, and the shame. The boy felt as if he was experiencing the words directly. He wanted to scream at those girls, cry, and lash out. His emotions were churning within him screaming for an outlet. However, like his mother, the boy sat silently. He knew exactly how his mother felt because he felt the same way every time others threw insults at him. He felt…empathy.

Empathy is defined as the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner.

Being empathic might have started before that moment, but from that day on, the boy thought about his words and actions towards others. He paid more attention to the people around him. He began watching for telltale signs of how people reacted to each other, observing emotions that raced across their faces, and the subtle changes in body language. He saw the pain on the faces of the slighted. Many times, he would go to these injured souls and try to say something to offset the offence. Most times as he offered solace, he was met with coldness and anger. The world became a darker place for him with his knowledge of the pain others suffered from the actions of others.

The boy grew into an adult, picking up lessons along the way. He became a student of people. He learned lessons about how different people react to insults and varied reactions. Some people lashed out with venomous comments, while others shut down emotionally. He paid attention to what a pleasant word or a gesture would do to change a person’s mood. He also learned that he too, was guilty at times directly or indirectly, for causing others pain. His knowledge of causing others pain was a hard lesson for him to swallow when he remembered that day leaving the store with his mother. No matter what steps were taken to make amends, once the pain was inflicted no kind words could erase the damage.

Thinking back on the ride home that day, he tried to remember if he had said a word to his mother. The memory was cloudy with age, but with a little effort he began to see it again. As they traveled the miles home, his mother drove in silence. Pulling into the driveway, she shut off the engine and reached for the door. Not knowing what to do to make things better, he reached for her arm gently. She turned to look down at his hand and then searched his face in the shadow of the car. At that moment, he understood what to say.

His words rushed out. “Mom, I just wanted you to know that I think you are beautiful. You mean the world to me. I love you.”

Smiling, she patted him on his hand. “Thank you,” she said as she quickly turned away. In the light as he stepped out of the car, he thought he saw a tear glisten her cheek.

_______________________________________

Do you have a moment in your life that brought about a change of your perspective? Do you think the other girls in line understood or cared about the pain they caused? With all the media attention on bullying, do you think this happens more now than it did decades ago? Does this behavior end with childhood or is it prevalent through all age groups?

Until next time…

jerryb.

Life of a “Facebook Drama Queen”

“Well, it is official. He didn’t pay the child support again. Time to take him to court. Why doesn’t he see that I love him so much?”

Yes, it is time for another entertaining day reading Facebook posts. Somewhere in the not too distant past, civilization has lost its sanity. Social media allows users to take their drama to the world stage in ways never thought possible before. Daily, users vent their frustrations about their ex-spouse, relationships, and work. Nothing is sacred from the quickly typed (and usually misspelled) mental vomit. The only requirement is access to the internet, a Facebook account, and enough self-loathing to have all of your dirty little secrets exposed for your entire friends list. It does not matter that a majority of the “friends” on that list are strangers added to fulfill your conquest on Farmville. Some Facebook Drama Queens are so entertaining it is difficult to bring oneself to “unfriend” them out of fear of missing what will come next. (NOTE: This same fear is why it is nearly impossible to change the station when TMZ comes on the air. Admit it- if you see more than a minute of TMZ, you are sucked into the whole show. Drama Baby!)

Not all Facebook Drama Queens are created equal. Life would be boring if Drama Queens came in a one-size fits all package. We need variety to spice up our lives. Facebook users give us endless supplies of spicy goodness. Let us look at a few common categories of Drama Queens.

Victim of the Player

Being a victim is not easy. Hopes and dreams of the perfect future hang on the person of your dreams. You spent the morning sharing how magical the night was when you met. How it was love at first sight, you are so meant to be together. The insignificant facts that you met that person at sleazy bar the night before, after a massive quantity of chocolate vodka martinis, and they were gone before you woke this morning, might be an indicator that your need to re-evaluate your standards. But hey we are talking about “the one” after all. So then, after your daylong profession of love, your status messages start to take a darker turn when he or she does not call you. Over the next few days, you spiral from the love-struck statuses to the hate filled insults we so enjoy.

The “Victim” will entertain us for days until they finally come to the realization that they are better off without the “loser” who is not good enough for them. This realization is usually applauded in the fifty comments from other “victims” who plan an outing to celebrate the newfound independence. The celebration usually leads to meeting another “person of their dreams” and the cycle starts all over again.

Crazy Stalker

“It is so amazing, our eyes met across the liquor store. We shared a night of blissful decadence.” What follows are weeks of happy status messages, that is until the inevitable breakup post makes everything interesting. Messages that read like the Facebook version of a Jerry Springer show fill the newsfeed. If we are lucky, it is a two-way fight where friends on both sides join in on the bashing. Eventually, one of the scorned lovers will drop out of the verbal boxing match. However, the fun is far from over.

Facebook fights worthy of the Springer show.

The “Crazy Stalker” is similar to the “Victim” only they do not ever seem to reach the point of letting go. Weeks turn into months as the “Stalker” seeks out and post comments to every friend of his or her obsession. The Status updates read like a play-by-play of their stalking prowess bordering on the illegal. The subject of the stalker’s interest is usually strangely absent from the exchange, but that cannot be said of their friends who take up the charge in the status wars. All can have fun, as we are reminded of how interesting and torturous it is to be single.

Eeyore

When looking at the proverbial glass as being half-full or half-empty, Facebook Drama Queens wonder who drank their water. Nothing is every bright and sunny. Whining is the not only the norm, but required with every character typed. How they have the motivation to actively participate in the world around them is nothing short of amazing. It is time to introduce the most depressing of our Drama Queens, the Eeyore.

If ever you need a reminder that your life is not that bad, just look up the “Eeyore” on your friends list. You know who I am talking about, the person whose status messages almost make you want to jump off the nearest bridge. While reading the status message, you almost hear Eeyore’s mono-toned voice in your head droning on about how their car broke down or they are “stuck” at home again on a Friday night with no money, no friends, and no future. Eeyores typically hate their job, their family, or just about everything in existence. Not all Eeyores are hypochondriacs, but those that are post every ache and pain. Oh, the horror they must endure from that fungal infected toenail. After reading a few posts, you will be thankful for whatever life has dealt you.

The Compulsive “Over-sharer”

For the record, no, we do not want to know about the new sore that appeared on your little toe. Nor do we wish to hear about the exact ingredients of your dinner, how it well your new colon cleansing routine is working, or the mystical answers you have found in inspirational memes. Yet, we seem to be fascinated by our last entry on our list of Facebook Drama Queens, the “Compulsive Over-sharer”.

As a rule, the Over-sharer is on the fringe of the Drama Queen spectrum. Most of their statuses are reposts of every meme on the internet, however in the process, they feel the need to update their friends on even the most minute aspect of their lives, their thoughts, and personal hygiene. Over time, we know more about the Over-sharer than we do about our own lives. Though not as fun as some of the others on the list, we know exactly what the Over-sharer is doing at any given moment. Sometimes, this knowledge should not be viewed before dinner, bed, or first thing in the morning. You never know what you might read.

WARNING: Attention all Facebook Drama Queens!

You may currently be on our friends list, however it is only a matter time before we remove you. If you wonder why we are not friends anymore, read The Friendship is Over…Just Ask Facebook. That should clear things up for you.

Do you have Facebook Drama Queens on your friends list? What are some of your funniest stories based on Facebook statuses?

Until next time…

jerryb.

Season of Change

The fall breeze gives a chill to the air. Leaves sing the song of change as they tumble through the yard. The autumn colors are finishing their final transition from bright hues to brown as leaves fall to the ground marking the cycle of seasons. At some point, I know I will have to get out the yard tools and get to work cleaning up this year’s harvest of change. The yearly cycle of growth has reached its twilight and the darkness of winter has started.

Sitting on my patio, I look out across the yard. I pull my jacket tighter around me to fight the chill in the breeze. Though the temperature is getting cooler, the sun still shines brightly, causing me to shelter my eyes. It occurs to me that so much has changed since I moved into this house over thirteen years ago. The very patio where I now sit did not exist when I first took up residence here. The yard has subtly changed in ways that went mostly unnoticed by everyone. If one is observant, the slow changes mark the endless passage of time. I have lived in my current home longer than any other place in my life. This is not just a house it is a home. My home became my foundation, my reflection of the joy in life, and my sanctuary against the pressures of life. With a newfound perspective, I look across the expanse of my yard and smile. My eyes fall on this year’s new addition to the landscape of my home and I think back on the events that brought it into being.

Over the past year, my wife and I made a few changes to the landscape. A few of our older trees, infected by disease, required removal leaving our house exposed to the elements. As the years passed, trees were lost, either from disease or from required “improvements,” leaving our yard vacant of shade and color. I was becoming a little distraught over the lack of trees around our home. Growing up in a rural area and having many trees around was a fond memory of home for me. Understanding my feelings about the trees, my wife devised a plan. While on a weekend getaway earlier this spring, my wife presented me with a gift that I had not expected. She gave me a voucher for a tree as an early anniversary gift. She told me that as our love has grown over the years, this tree too would grow and flourish. The tree became a symbol of our relationship.

The newly planted tree grew throughout the summer. We would take evening walks out to admire the new growth. We watered it as often as the dry summer required. It became the focus of our evening conversation. Once, we saw birds built a nest in our new tree. We sat on the patio and watched, as the robins would fly back and forth with building material. No matter what stress the day brought, this little tree had a calming effect. Moreover, like all relationships, the tree has cycles.

As the season changed, the leaves began to turn a deep red. Sitting on my chair, enjoying the fall breeze, I watch the leaves falling and covering the ground. I ask myself if this change is symbolic of relationships as well. Marriages have points where they are full of life and renewal. As the marriage grows, it develops of a rhythm similar to the seasons. Marriage contains moments of understanding and caring that flourish, wilt, and are reborn. Like the tree, our relationship goes through cycles. It starts as a vibrant sapling with rapid growth, settles into the slow dependability spreading its roots as it reaches for the warmth becoming a strong foundation for new seeds to spread on the wind. The real strength of couples seems to be that they recognize these cycles. Couples need to take the time to understand the seasonal changes and look forward to the revival that comes in the next cycle. Relationships like trees require nurturing, discovery, and appreciation. For successful couples it seems important to take moments away from the stressful days and just marvel at their growth. At times, relationships like trees in winter will lay dormant without what appears to be growth. As winter gives the foliage a time to recover and prepare for the next spring, this too is the case with relationships as relationships need the time to renew and become revitalized.

Smiling to myself, I walk out to the tree, silently thanking it for its wisdom. This surprising gift has become a symbol, a reminder of the cycles of relationships. Like the tree, a marriage begins fragile and requires constant attention to protect and nurture. As it grows, roots give stability yet, through it still go through cycles. Situations, like the seasons, influence the growth and health and successful couples weather the storms. Though the cold of winter will be upon my little tree soon, it will stand tall, waiting for spring to bring the next cycle.

Until next time…

Jerry b.

In the Grip of Shadows: The Pretender

“Keep you in the dark, You know they all pretend, Keep you in the dark, And so it all began”

The Pretender…Foo Fighters

Steps fall heavy as the darkness unfolds before you. Light chases away the shadows but shapes develop just out of sight. Words echo in your thoughts. Images pull across your mind’s eye. Flashes of memories drift in and out of perception, as you shy from the thoughts, the pain, the emotions they represent. Quickly you run into the darkness, eyes closed to avoid the haunting images. No matter how fast you run, they are always there; written on your very soul.

Who is the pretender? Are the pretenders reflective of who you were in the past or others who come into your life? Each of us holds onto the experiences of our past. Gripping tightly to what we know of the pain we suffered and the feelings we shuffled away without facing. Pushing the memories deep into our mental closets; burying them beneath the dust and boxes. Hoping that others do not discover the secrets we hide or the pretenders we have become.

“Send in your skeletons, Sing as their bones go marching in… again” The Pretender…Foo Fighters

Are we the pretenders?

We are more than just a combination of water and minerals. From the moment of consciousness, we build with blocks of experience and define who we are. If our souls exist, it may be said the soul begins at birth with a clean slate. Each lesson, every beat of our heart, adds to the meaning of what we know, writing on the blank slate of our soul. Life is not about facts but about emotions, about experiences.

“The need you buried deep, The secrets that you keep are ever ready” The Pretender…Foo Fighters

Do you embrace your life or exist in it?

The saying, “they are an old soul” resonates through my thoughts as I spin ideas together. An old soul may be the accumulation of life’s experiences. Some souls only touch in the brief moments, the veil between our lives, while other souls seek out life on the edges of common experiences, touching many lives and in turn experiencing many lessons. Lessons etch their mark onto the soul and draw a picture of who we truly are becoming. Many hide the picture, their soul from others, while those who are referred to as “old souls” share the picture of themselves to everyone they meet. The non-pretenders reveal the etchings and scratches that showing the full picture of life. The pretenders show only the image they want others to see or, an image that had no substance, no clarity, no real experiences to support their false image.

Even though the cost of experience, of these life lessons, is paid with moments of great pain, loss, and heartbreak, we grow. With each experience we add to our souls and in turn our wisdom. The feelings we have experienced created the person who is now presented. Looking back, the past can be filled with personal horrors and choices that cannot be unmade, but have altered the picture that we are by being etched on our soul. Our greatest pain, buried deep, will surface when we least expect it, casting shadows upon us in a moment. These shadows that sometimes haunt our existence are not the way to honor our teacher. A teacher we refer to as experience.

Do not hide the pain; it is a lesson that should be remembered, not haunt your life. Embrace the scars for the pain is a lesson of what it is like to live.

“I’m finished making sense, Done pleading ignorance, That whole defense” The Pretender…Foo Fighters

Until next time…

Jerry b.

“Constant Companion”

As I slowly wake from my sleep, a low rumble alerts my senses. The rumbling gains momentum as it nears, consumes all other sounds, and then passes into silence. Again and again, it comes and then fades away. With each oncoming sound a flash of light brings my eyes flickering open creating an almost instant awareness. Only then do I remember where I am. How close to home has this eastbound bus taken me?

I strain to find something familiar in the darkness outside the cloudy window, I become aware of each car that passes by, with the rumbling growl and bright lights that had awakened me. Suddenly realization crosses through my sleep fogged mind; to the drivers of the passing vehicles, I do not exist. My only presence in their reality is the bus I ride, howling past them in the opposite direction. Without their knowledge of me, I’m nothing more than a nameless, faceless rider. However, to me, the same is true for the world I’m hurling past outside the bus.

I pull up the sleeve on my jacket, wipe the moisture from the window, and peer out into the darkness. As the world passes by, each house I whirl past has life going on inside, lives I know nothing about. In an attempt to bring these lives into existence for me, I start mentally writing my own stories about what is happening under their roofs. In the darkened trailer, the children are finally asleep in their beds as their parents, cuddling together on the couch, watch television. The small house on the corner has a woman crying at the table, wondering where her husband is at this hour. Her fingers run through her hair as she stares at the phone on the table in front of her, begging it to ring with some news. In my story, the phone never rings. Finally, the house with the over-grown lawn and absence of any light shining from it has had many stories created about it over the years by the local youth. Some say this dark looming house is haunted while others talk about an old man still living inside, waiting to chase off anyone who comes around. The reality of the house is different for me. The house is being used by local drug users and prostitutes as a safe haven. The stories go on and on with the passing of each town, but to me, the stories are fleeting, existing only until the next one is created. How many lives go on without anyone knowing of their existence?

Without a clear idea how much further I have left until I reach my destination, I look up and count the remaining passengers accompanying me on my journey. The bus is another representation of my life with people getting on and off not really knowing who I am; so many people passing through without taking the time to understand each other. Some of the people may stay longer than others, sharing the journey, but in the end, everyone gets off the bus. The desire to reach out to another person and connect seems to be a lost art. What would it take to authentically care about another person? Most people are happy in their ignorance of others, satisfied their world is as small and as dark as the interior of the bus we are sharing.

As these thoughts pass through my head, a feeling of loneliness washes over me. Loneliness is my constant companion. He is someone who shares my daily life, though I never hear a word of encouragement or question coming from him. He is just a passenger, always by my side along for the ride. We are seemingly all riding with our own version of Loneliness because we are unable or unwilling to open ourselves to the world around us. We are happy in our ignorance, to have Loneliness beside us through all of our journeys. While he is the one passenger that I would like to see get off my bus, I find that he remains my constant companion always in the seat next to me.

I settle back into my seat, move my backpack up to make a pillow, then I turn to my ever present partner and silently ask him to wake me before my stop. With this final thought, I drift off to sleep listening to the growling rise and fall from the passing cars and wondering if Loneliness is riding with them too.

Until next time…

jerryb

[Author’s Note: This story started in 1994 and has been lost in the notebooks of my journals for almost twenty years. Recently, I went on a hunt to find my old writing and was pleasantly surprised it survived the many moves and storage. This piece is a work of fiction that has been in the back of my mind for many years. I am glad that it has finally been completed. I hope you enjoyed a little piece of me. Thank you for your time…jb]

My Daughter: Sweet Dreams

Wandering through the dark house, checking the locks and closing up, I make my way to your room to make sure that the covers are protecting you from the chilly autumn evening. As I stand in the doorway, the glow of your lava lamp casts shadows throughout your room. A smile grows on my face as I straighten the pile of books on your night stand. It amazes me how grown up my little girl has become.

Earlier in the night, I was reviewing some of the older articles from the Family category of the blog featuring you. I revisited moments that have chronicled your growth. Memories flooded back of sitting in the rocking chair of your little room, reading a book to you before bed every night. Those same books, you have since read on your own, now reside on your book shelves. I started thinking back on the times when you would climb up into the bed, little more than a toddler, and ask me to read to you. I miss those times sitting on your bed, and becoming your personal storyteller. You no longer need a storyteller since you are reading more books than you father can keep up with. As the books are straightened, my smile broadens at these wonderful memories.

Looking around your room, the glow of your iPod as it rests in the docking station pulls me to another time when you were first introduced to music. Wanting to make sure you had a good foundation for you future choices, I created your music playlist with songs from The Beatles, The Who, Fleetwood Mac, and many more. I beamed with pride as you would tell anyone who would listen that your favorite bands were The Beatles and KISS. Over the years, music has become a huge part of you and who you are becoming. You dance around the house singing a tune and giggling as you spread your joy throughout the house.

As I sit down on the bed and tuck the covers up around you, I think back to all the years you have brightened my life. I watch the mental montage of birthdays, holidays, and those special moments. I smile remembering the walks in the park, watching you play your first soccer games, and the amazement of seeing you ride your bike without training wheels. I reflect on images of your artwork that adorns my office walls and it reminds me of how creative you are in all that you do. I also shudder as I remember the times you were sick. I remember all the moments that make up both of our lives and hope that I am doing the best for you.

Memories flood through me as I lean over to give you one last kiss for the night. Brushing your hair out of your face and whispering “I love you. Sweet dreams,” I turn to leave the room and leave you to your dreams. Turning away in the dark, I hear a soft, raspy sleepy voice, “I love you too, Daddy”.

Happy Birthday, my dear daughter.

Dad

So You Want to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse

The credits roll up the screen as the movie ends. After watching World War Z, Shaun of the Dead, and every single episode of The Walking Dead, a feeling of calm flows over you. Piles of tattered zombie books, with colorful post-it notes protruding from the pages, are scattered around your windowless room. The house is quiet, which means your mom’s medicine must have kicked in and she will give you a moment of peace allowing you to continue your plans.

The credits roll up the screen as the movie ends. After watching World War Z, Shaun of the Dead, and every single episode of The Walking Dead, a feeling of calm flows over you. Piles of tattered zombie books, with colorful post-it notes protruding from the pages, are scattered around your windowless room. The house is quiet, which means your mom’s medicine must have kicked in and she will give you a moment of peace allowing you to continue your plans. Since the collapse of your motivational speaking career, the criminal charges filed, and your destruction by your wife in the divorce (who would have thought she would be that upset about your mistress?) living in your mother’s basement became your best option. Anyway who needs a job when the end is near and there is a higher calling? You have it all figured out as you eagerly await the zombie apocalypse and begin your true destiny. You are going to be a zombie killer.

To learn how you ended up in your mom’s basement, here is a review.

Be Ready

After hours of practice killing zombies in Left for Dead 2, you have the skills needed to champion the minority of the living. The only thing needed now is the zombie apocalypse to occur and catch up with your mad skills. When the dead turn the world into an all-you-can-eat-buffet, you will be ready for greatness.

The “bug out bag” is prepared with all the emergency items you will need: hatchet, variety pack of Combo Snacks, the goggles you stole from your high school shop class, a copy of Max Brooks’ The Zombie Survival Guide, and a roll of soft toilet paper. You wouldn’t want to be caught at the end of the world having to use the harsh paper found in most public restrooms.

Research done through movies, books, video games and graphic novels, you have studied all types of possible zombies and are ready to wipe them off the face of the Earth. The slow moving “shamblers” that were first reported in George A. Romero’s insightful documentary, Night of the Living Dead, will be no match for your moves as you dance around them. The faster zombies of World War Z may give you more of a challenge, but if Brad Pitt can survive, you can too. Pitt is pretty old these days. The biggest worry is the rage filled zombies of 28 Days Later. However, most zombie experts do not consider these rabid creatures to be zombies so you might be safe.

As you make a mental inventory of the types of zombies you may face, it is now time to figure out your weapons.

Tools of the Trade

What does any successful zombie annihilator require? Only the very best weapons will work for your new adventure. Since that pesky felony conviction (how can they say your motivational speaking career was a scam?) led to your probation, firearms are out of the question, well until the end comes. You need alternate weaponry so locating the weapons for your arsenal becomes your priority.

Nothing tells the mindless undead that you mean business better than the right weapon. Anything will work in a dire situation, but you are a professional, so you will be prepared for the zombie apocalypse. Since your mom will not give you an allowance to buy the tools of your new zombie fighting trade, you have to start borrowing yard tools from your neighbors. The neighbors won’t need the tools back anytime soon and you need to build up your arsenal. In the dark corner of your basement command center, you have proudly built up a collection of axes, picks, shovels, and machetes. Who would have thought that people would be so generous and loan you their expensive yard tools? You have even talked the coach of the local little league into letting you borrow a few bats. See, the motivational speaker gig really did have potential.

Since you have to be mobile to save the world, it is now time to figure out your transportation.

The proper vehicle

Well, your mom’s car will never due for a proper post-apocalyptic world. Who wants to traverse the ruins of civilizations in a Geo Metro?

Zombie Monster Truck — Acquire the proper zombie killing vehicle

You need a bad-ass vehicle to go with your new zombie hunter/hero status. Since most of the world will not be as prepared as you, there isn’t a need to buy the perfect vehicle now. You plan to “acquire” the vehicle when most of the population suffers an untimely demise at the hands, or mouth, of the rampaging zombies. At this time you just need to keep an eye out for the perfect assault model befitting your hero status.

The military grade Humvee is a good choice. However, they might be difficult to find just parked in a driveway in your area. Thankfully, your neighborhood does seem to have an assortment of potential replacements. What better way to plow through the hordes of undead than with a “monster” truck? The large tires, high clearance, and multi-colored paint scheme will enhance your killing credentials. The roar of the loud exhaust will announce your presence as you rush in to rescue the damsel in distress. You can just picture yourself driving off into the sunset, spewing a black cloud of exhaust. Yep, that will be your moment of glory.

Unleash the fury

As you mentally check off the important items of your new zombie hunting trade, you grow even more confident in all your meticulous planning. The few pounds you have gained in recent months will only enhance your towering presence. The patchy beard and coffee stained teeth will give you the menacing appearance needed to strike fear in the non-beating heart of your zombie enemies. Your imagination drifts as visions of grandeur float in your head and your excitement builds to start wiping out zombies. You visualize the people you know karma will make into zombies and anticipate them suffering your wrath. It’s not like you have a list of potential people you want to be zombies… Oh, what a moment you will have as fear registers in the undead eyes of your victims. Greatness is only an apocalypse away!

Admiring you forward thinking abilities and total preparedness, you ease back into your sweat stained couch, knock the empty pizza boxes off the cinder-block coffee table with your feet and think to yourself, “When the zombies attack, I will be a legend…”

Until next time…

jerryb

October is Zombie Month at TTMM

Halloween is the time of year where we embrace our fears and mock the things that would normally send us screaming from the darkness. Common villains such as witches, vampires, werewolves, and zombies that once drove our ancestors into hiding as the nights grew longer, are now common themes with their own fan bases in modern books, movies, and television. Times have changed since our superstitious ancestors hung bells on graves in case the dead would rise. Witches no longer hold the contempt that they once did when we believed they all wore pointy hats, were covered in warts, and their voices echoed with cackling laughter. The television show Charmed introduced audiences to the concept that witches could not only be good heroines but smoking hot, and not because they were burning at the stake. Thanks to Joss Wedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel series, vampires can be heroes and funny while witches are bubbly red headed sidekicks. Vampires have been reduced to characters in twisted love triangles with werewolves and some even sparkle in the sunlight. Book series like Laurell Hamilton’s “Anita Blake” read like a play by play of pornographic orgies between the heroine, vampires, and werewolves. The werewolves have become less of a nightmare and more of panting pups in modern literature and media as witnessed in the Twilight Saga. All of these characters, historically so beloved for their malice and evil are now merely brooding, misunderstood, love struck wimps. Who fears a sparkling vampire or a werewolf that is trying to save the world? My childhood nemeses are modern anti-heroes. Then I remembered the last holdout in the romanticism of evil…zombies.

Zombies are unadulterated evil. Nobody wants to be romantically interested in a creature whose only desire is to eat your flesh. George A. Romero brought them to the screen in his classic “Night of the Living Dead” in 1968 and started the zombie sub-culture that we know today. With the exception of titles like “World War Z” by Max Brooks, large publishing companies were slow to recognize the public’s hunger for zombie fiction. It wasn’t until indie authors were able to give voice to zombie stories with the invention of e-publishing, that the book industry was finally able to provide many different takes on zombie lore.

The popularity of the horror sub-genre of zombies and the indie author’s ability to publish new fiction prompted ground-breaking changings in other mediums as well. In 2010, AMC took a chance on a television series, based on Robert Kirkman and Tony Moore graphic novel “The Walking Dead”, to broadcast the first television series set around zombies. This month, “The Walking Dead” will begin its fourth season and rumor has it that there might be a spin-off related to Kirkman and Moore’s zombie world. Zombies have firmly rooted themselves into modern pop-culture.

I, personally, was one of the late-comers to the genre. Years after it was published, I picked up my copy of “World War Z”. I quickly followed with Bourne’s “Day by Day: Armageddon”. I couldn’t get enough of the genre and sought out more. This fascination with all things zombie, took place around the time I received my first e-Reader. As I was looking for more titles, I came across the listing for an indie author named Mark Tufo and his “Zombie Fallout” series. Mark led me to another indie author, James Cook, and the “Surviving the Dead” series. Book after book, I have been reading all that I could get my hands on for well over two years and eagerly awaiting the next installment of each in the series I am reading. What is it that I like so much about stories of the smelly, slow moving, undead?

Zombies fiction represents more than what is seen on the surface. While the zombie genre features the mindless, creatures that once were human; the stories are also about the fight to survive for those that are not infected. The survivors represent our fears of being alone, of battling something we cannot control, the will to hold on to our own humanity, and the importance of community. Zombie stories are stories of the choices we make in order to live another day. The stories are about the battle to continue on when everything around us has been lost. The stories of the zombie apocalypse are stories of hope.

The month of October will highlight one of my favorite horror genres, zombie apocalypse. Each Tuesday, a new piece will be published leading up to Halloween. I hope to introduce you to some of the authors and series that I have been enjoying over the years. With Halloween drawing nearer it is time to celebrate, with a month long dedication to the last holdout of evil creatures. Welcome to Zombie Month at TTMM.

Until next time…

Jerry b.

Follow TTMM on Twitter for the ideas before they grow into the stories here @trpthroughmymnd

When Research Goes to Hell

Occasionally ideas bounce around my head, begging to be developed. One particular genre is currently calling to me. I was considering creating a zombie (don’t laugh) themed blog. In the zombie blog, I would do some book and television show reviews, maybe get interviews with different authors or organizations, provide a platform for fan groups, have an online debate with vampire fans, and just have some fun with it. My zombie blog would be good fun, a way to separate the rantings and observations of my current blog with a more themed one. Zombie blog was inspired by the art, media and stories that have been on my reading list lately. I know an art student and admire her work so much I want her to create some original drawings making zombie blog even more creative. Zombie blog is a pet project for fun and entertainment, where like-minded zombie fans can explore and be amused. It is in the spirit of creative, good clean (undead) fun.

And then I did some research on other zombie themed blogs….

As I researched, I began to rethink my zombie blog idea. A quick search of the internet led to a multitude of themed blogs, and yes many of them were zombies so much for the “original” part of my idea. Some of the zombie blogs are doing what I had in mind by promoting the genre, author interviews, book, movie, show reviews and links to fun events. However most zombie blogs are, for a lack of better term, completely INSANE! Seriously, I hope that these blogs are a joke and not meant to be taken seriously otherwise there is some scary stuff out there. Most of the zombie blogs contained so much nonsense from people about the “reality” of a zombie plague happening, or what weapons are the best to use, or exactly how a man-made virus would turn people into zombies. On one blog there was even a study in Philadelphia that had a time line for a zombie epidemic infection that would begin an apocalypse. One company has created a line of weapons available on their websites to fight off the zombies. What in the name of all that is Romero is going on?

Maybe most of the zombie blogs started off as my idea had; a tongue in cheek idea. Then the infection of “zombism” came over them, making the site live long after its undead shelf life. I for one, am all for digging in and having a playful site, but the zombie blog populace actually seem to either 1) believe zombies are real or 2) promote very bad information to people who are mentally unstable enough to believe zombies are real.

Here is a case in point; a medical student in the UK wrote a paper attacking a zombie blog site. He referred to the creators of the blog as a bunch of conspiracy theorist who do not know a damn thing about medicine. He went on to argue that Max Brooks (yes, Mel Brook’s son and the writer of World War Z and Zombie survival guide) was not serious when he published the first book on surviving zombie Armageddon. Do we need scientific clarification of that little bit of information?

What happened to having fun? I am sure that there are people who TRULY believe in vampires and some even believe vampires sparkle. I just wonder what mental infliction causes people to believe in and fully embrace the idea of the reality of UFOs, werewolves, vampires, zombies, and the ability to cast spells. Truly, someone should have stepped in when they were children to take away their dungeons and dragons game. Oh wait, these are the same people who actually LARP their characters in the local park on the third Sunday of the month and have deep discussions on the merits of a spork as a weapon for their RPG character.

As I take a deep breath and calm down, I realize that maybe I am the one that is being a little over the top. I do not know the drive behind the blogs. It could be that they are sitting at their computer, getting people like me all wound up. I love the zombie apocalypse genre of books and movies. I feel that beyond the smelly, walking dead people, there is a social message. I also believe, as the organization Zombie Squad, that if you are prepared for the walking dead, then you will be prepared for any other disaster that may occur. There is a part of me that is sitting in the coffee house, listening to a group of people argue about what they will do WHEN, not if, the dead would rise. Not one of them had my answer…run like hell!

<storms off his soap box to search for a brief glimpse of sanity>

Until next time…

Jerry b.

Related articles: The Hills are Alive with…Zombies?;

On This Day…A Note to My Daughter

To my daughter,

On this day, we celebrate your birthday. For me, the day is something that holds more than just cake and a gift. Today, I celebrate the gift of you; a gift that brings me joy every day.

On this day…

I remember walking beside the cart that brought you into the nursery and looking down on the wonder that was my child. I held you for the first time that day and looked into your eyes. Your eyes held so much life and shown with an intelligence that I have now seen fulfilled. I was scared that I was not ready to be your guide in life, but with your smile, all my concerns evaporated. I held in my arms, for the first time, hope for the future. I knew love in a way that was previously unknown to me. My world shrank to only you.

On this day…

I sit, browsing through my memories of your early years. All the moments where you brought a smile to my face, like when you seemed to be so grown up at the age of two. I walk through the memories reliving them as if they were yesterday. I can still feel the excitement from the sidelines at your soccer games, the swelling pride when I listened to your oral essay presentation, and laugh at our shared moments of being silly. I remember your beaming smiles as we went into the ocean on our first real vacation. These precious movies replaying in my thoughts bringing on so many feelings of the pride, joy, and love I have for you.

On this day…

I look at the woman you have become. The woman I see every day would make any parent beam with pride. Your inner strength shines through in everything you do. You have become someone I respect and admire. I truly enjoy the time we spend together. You are my friend as well as my daughter. You are a woman that others should strive to be. I cannot express in words how much every conversation between us means to me. When I see you, I see an intelligent, loving, beautiful, and responsible person. You are the physical embodiment of the hope I saw the first day I held you. You bring joy and love into my world everyday like you did the first moment I held you. Though you are grown, I still have moments where my world shrinks to only you. I still get a smile on my face as I see the grown up girl.

On this day…

I want to tell you how much I love you.

Happy Birthday, to my amazing daughter.

Love, Dad

TTMM Weekly Wrap and Blog Question

I had an interesting question this week from one of my acquaintances:

“Why do you write a blog? Isn’t that like a diary?”

Let’s be clear on the second question. No, blogging is not like a diary. If I wanted to write my most personal thoughts and share them with the world, I would probably set up a Twitter account. At that point, everyone would be able to hear about my trip to the grocery store and every time I used the bathroom. My blog is not a journal of my daily activities, which is reserved for Facebook. Blogs can be many things. Some blogs are company sponsored advertisements or special interest communications. Many of the blogs that I read are created by people who have ideas to share on politics, personal perspective, sports, humor, or other subjects that might interest the author and the reader.

As to the first question of why do I blog? The most obvious answer is that I am narcissistic enough to believe I have something to say that readers would find interesting. You do find it interesting, right? Mostly, the reason I blog is to write, to improve as a writer, to share my humorous thoughts or viewpoint. I hope that you find the post entertaining.

Monday, TTMM had a little fun with first date warning signs. A long time has passed since I have had to deal with the awkward and sometimes scary first date. Maybe I needed an intervention to safely remove me from the some of those dates. Regretfully, it took many dates after the first one to show me the error of my ways. Take some time to check out Monday’s “Warning Signs of a Bad First Date”
Wednesday brought a subject that took a thought on whether to add it to the rotation on TTMM. A new HBO program The Newsroom spoke to me. The video clip of the first few moments of The Newsroom convinced me that it was time to share this little editorial I have been contemplating. In the clip the question was asked “Is the U.S. the greatest country in the in world”. Check out the video clip from HBO’s The Newsroom that inspired this Wednesday’s editorial “Are We the Best Country in the World?”
Friday closed the week with an early morning muse about potential television programming and advertising disasters. . What can I say? My mind goes to some peculiar places when I am between sleep and the waking world. Come explore some of my thoughts and add a few of your own suggestions to “Awkward Morning Musing of a Sleepy Mind: Advertising”

I hope you enjoyed reading this week’s TTMM as much as I have enjoyed putting it together.

Until next time…

jerryb

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