Lenten Season

It all started on Ash Wednesday morning. I did one of my usual polls on Facebook that morning. It was an open poll which is rare, since I usually do multiple choices. I usually do these little polls as my way of saying "hi" to my Facebook friends as well as doing an across the board reality check; myself mainly included. I have a curious mind and sometimes I like to see the similarities of what is on other peoples' minds and see if it's compatible with my own thoughts. Since it was Ash Wednesday, I asked my friends (whether they are Catechists or not) what would they give up for Lent. I had several answers, one answered "superstitions" which kinda stood out with the usual answers whether it had something to do with food and others. I really had no idea what I was going to give up for Lent this year-- and being known as "Mr. Catholic" in my rednecky neighborhood in North Carolina, I had to make a good answer. I don't know if I had an answer to my own question or I didn't even answer to it other than "I won't eat meat on Friday" or something close. In a way, I was looking for an answer for the next forty days and forty nights until Easter Sunday. Yet, the answer to my question came to me that Ash Wednesday night...when I was least expecting it!

I am sure most of you read about my car wreck in which I lost the true love of my life, a 1997 Toyota Corolla which took me to my job and back without incident. When I lost the car, I was stuck most of the time either waiting for one thing or the other. The cycle started when I waited for a rental that the other guy's insurance company furnished me with for the next week and a half. A short time later, I waited for my claim check which would cover the cost for a replacement car. Since I had limited time, I can only find what I can get. Even though I now had money to cover anything that came my way, it didn't last for long about as long as the short time I had to find a car. To start off with, the pickings were slim--practically anorexic! In all the searches in the scant four days and a decent amount of settlement money in the bank (and creditors LOVE it when you have money in the bank, and strangely enough, the mysteriously KNOW you have money in the bank!), I came up with a 1984 Toyota Corolla. For a 30 year old car, it looked good AND it had better gas mileage with a Lincoln Town Car which was the other car I could find that was on sale. There was a Buick in the mix, but I found out that the Buick was two years older and I later discovered that the miles were rolled back! So I ended up buying the 28 year old car trusting it in "good faith" with the guy who sold me the car. Good faith can only go so far, especially when it stalls every few miles.

Make a long story shorter, which is hard, the gas tank needed to be taken out and cleaned out. Enter the theme song of this story which is Tom Petty's "The Waiting (Is The Hardest Part)". And in the first chords of Mike Campbell's opening guitar riff with Benmont Tench's organ wafting from the background, the waiting began before Tom's howling vocals and his 12 string guitar scratches. My waiting has no musical flourishes, after 6 mechanics and nearly two grand pissed away from buying the car and the repairs involved, the waiting was the easiest part it was all the other crap I had to endure like missing two weeks of work and the endless bantering of my roommate and co-workers. It wasn't that it was a lemon, it was someone's mistake-- somebody decided to spray liner in the gas tank and forgot to clean the tank out, hence the fuel line was all clogged up. When the car was finally "fixed", little did I know was that a new problem arose. I was told to fill up the car "easy"-- this was my introduction to 'Gas Tank 101', this when I learned immediately about gas tanks and other parts of the car. For example; did you know that the part of the tank that you fill the gas in is called the "filler spout" and there is a rubber hose that runs from the "filler spout" and the gas tank itself? Well, I was introduced to this information when a tsunami of GAS came out of the side of the car when I was trying to fill it up! I was "easy" but little I knew about this hose (I always thought it was one solid piece) and little the mechanics knew about the tear in this hose. And when I went to auto parts stores; I started with the one that rhymes with "Schmadvance Auto Parts", they looked at me I had a horn growing out of my head. I had a fellow customer at "Schmadvance" telling me to sue the guy who fixed the car, and the guy who sold me the car...it came to the point that I was going to sue the guy at "Scmadvance" who was telling me to sue everybody else for making the situation even more shittier than it is. Before you can say "Judge Judy" however, another auto parts store (rhymes with Schmo'Reilly" for possible future reference) said that they had I was looking for but now I have to wait until this coming Tuesday to have this part put in since the mechanic is taking of until then from his Easter break. Again, I live in the rednecky part of the country since this is the "Bible Belt" and the mechanic is about 30 miles away from me which is still pretty much considered "nearby" where I live. Hopefully, like the closing bass line from Ron Blair and Tom Petty's last "whoa-whoa-whoa" of  the "...Waiting..." song, hopefully "... the hardest part..." will be over very soon and hopefully "...everyday..." I'll have "...one more start" to a halfway decent future after the 40 plus days of Hell I had to endure!

And now this story ends today on Easter Sunday, the end of Lenten Season; the forty day and night period that Catechist Christians like us Catholics, as well as Episcopalians, Lutherans, and other similar religions observe. Part of Lenten Season is to reflect on what you gave up for "pennance" or the one thing that we had to give up for Lent. "Pennance" is pretty much a kind word for "punishment" which us Catholics kinda do to ourselves anyways, but it's a little more than that. Now before some of you out there think I'm chasing "the Flying Spaghetti Monster", which is kinda funny because my religion is based in Rome, it's not about religion for me. I am a member of the community since my church is part of it and I am more of a "community member" than a "church member". It's not about "Papal" but "people", and it's more about what I can put on my resume than what I read in the Bible (which is both equal to me to aid my survival in this modern day life). In this scheme of how I see things as a Catholic and a human being, I want to know is what I learned from Lent.

I was talking to a good friend of mine after Easter Mass this morning about the "car situation" he is gracious and kind enough to lend me his vehicle for the past few weeks to make up some lost time and lost money. I am eternally grateful to him and another friend who recommended me to the 6th mechanic who finally fixed my car "right" and will hopefully complete the job this Tuesday once I get the hose from "Schmo'Reilly's Auto Parts". Me and my friend (who knows my situation well) segued into Lent and I asked my friend if there was something that I can learn from my "instant pennance". He paused for one second and then said..."It's NOT you, it's THEM!". Really, it's not what I learned but what OTHER people SHOULD learn! The ones who should pay for the sins are the previous 5 mechanics, the guy who sold me the car, the know-it-all lawsuit happy customer at "Schmadvance", and my nosy roommate (and nosier co-workers).It's like that line that I gave to my ex-girlfriend "It's not YOU it's ME!", except in this situation I didn't stalk myself when I was taking a bath or bringing in a suitcase and saying over and over again "it's only my laundry!" (my ex was nuts).  But my friend is right, I shouldn't blame myself for what happened nor should I learn from my mistakes even though it was never my mistake to start off with. It's human nature to blame yourself in most situations, we are all privvy to it. But, I never asked to be rearended, I never asked myself to play "buy a $2000 car in four days", I never really ask for anything-- I always tried to do it on my own. Maybe God is trying to tell me to "screw everybody else's opinions" and for once I should try to stop giving a crap to other people's lip service! It's not me to pay the pennance simply because I am not the "sinner" in this situation! I should be grateful for the true friends who have my back and understand and hope karma gets even to those who rather talk about "being" a friend! Until then, I am going to wait for that one last part-- a rubber hose that will cost $25. After that, I will not wait for other people's feedback and if I want results, I'll make my own results! The one thing I learned from Lent I should not be "the patient one" anyone; perhaps it's time for some of the people I deal with should learn a little patience for once! I would like to end this blog with a better closing hook, but Tom Petty always has the best ones in his songs!

In Loving Memory of Bluey

I lost a dear family member last night, at least she was like a member of the family. She was like a friend, a dear friend, to me. I remember her smile, at least it looked like a smile. And to be honest, I don't know if it was a "she". I mean, I dunno what a "she" would have-- it didn't have an Adam's apple then again it did not have breasts and I seen others like "her" and they had more curves. Then again, a four door sedan would count as a "she" would it?

But that's who Bluey was, a midnight blue 1997 Toyota Corolla. I was actually thinking of calling it "Adam Corolla" but that would be kinda corny wouldn't it? Plus, it did not make any sarcastic remarks like Adam Corolla does but I could swear that I had a 1977 Plymouth Volare that was on the snarky side! Bluey was her own person...okay... if she was a person. And before you think I am completely nuts, that's because the most of you that know me can actually TESTIFY that I am nuts anyway, I actually named most of my cars. My first car, a 1975 Plymouth Fury, was called "The Great Pumpkin" because it was dark orange and it was friggin huge. Then I later had "Ol' Yeller" who was a 1979 Chevy Chevette, it was known as "pissy" both because it was bright yellow. Since it was a Chevy Chevette and it WAS yellow, it had another name...LEMON. Then again I had my first ...eh... y'know...I also had my first dump by a girlfriend later on with that car. That's when I had my 1979 Camaro... I drive slow as a slug I admit (that's because I DRIVE THE FRIGGIN SPEED LIMIT) but it was a cool looking car and it was a great touring car -- the highway mileage was actually good even though there is one "actual" highway in Long Island that you can do actual "highway mileage" on! I called my Camaro several names, "The Chick Magnet" (even though I did not get a girlfriend with that car), and "Betsy". I left my Camaro back with my Long Island roots to go to grad school in Buffalo. I was carless in Buffalo  until I got my first "real" job-- enter Mrs. Goldberg. Mrs. Goldberg was a 1987 Ford Tempo, who kinda reminded me of an old Jewish woman; she complained now and then, but she had a warm heart and was very reliable (minus the brisket). I had a few cars after that. When I moved to North Carolina, I had a few cars but I was barren of a car with personality but enter Mrs. Goldfarb. Mrs. Goldfarb was a 1991 Ford Tempo which meant it was Mrs. Goldberg's cousin and it had that nice friendly disposition for a Goyim driver like me. After a couple of years with Mrs. Goldfarb, I had a Buick... a 1998 Century to be exact. The Buick was a sequel to my Camaro like Mrs. Goldfarb (which I later sold for $50 to a demolition derby driver) was a sequel to Mrs. Goldberg. My Buick, whom I dubbed "The White Knight" was like a chick magnet and had all the bells and whistles. I had "The White Knight" for a couple of years, then the gas prices went up, and so did the miles-- about 230,000 to be exact. The "White Knight" had fallen deathly ill, blown head gasket. I did my goodbyes. And then came Bluey.

Bluey's story is different from the others. The fate on how I had Bluey was different. I had a weekend job in which I took care of a severly disabled boy. My Buick died when I was driving back from the boy's family. The grandfather seen my fate and had a car that his father owned. The father got sick and eventually gave it to my client's grandfather. There was attachment with my client's grandfather but knew I would take care of her. She was a big dividend in the era of high gas prices, around 30 to the gallon. Bluey was special, the situation was special, it was like a blessing from a loving family. Fate also twisted it's way in our relationship as it began. It began with the death of my Buick and later my client's great grandfather--the original owner of Bluey died. And later, my client died several months later during my shift. Bluey was about as fateful as he was faithful. She always started, never stalled. Aside for a flat tire, I was never stranded, even though I was only "stranded" for a half an hour, until the tow truck operator changed my tire. Bluey was the perfect car for me...she became the best car I had ever owned!

Fate sometimes comes back to visit, but we know that fate can be a vengeful beast! Last night, on Ash Wednesday, I was running an errand. Other than an impending storm in the background, it was an average night. I slowly came to a stop with a pickup truck ahead of me, plenty of room to stop for me. Then I heard a deathly howl from the Hell Hound itself ... okay, it was a loud screech from a Ford coming from behind me. Then came the "and then...BANG!" part of the story and the "my whole life became a flash before my eyes" part quickly followed in a millisecond, which was about the time I blacked out. The deploying airbags awoke me from my half second slumber. And then the Ford pushed me into the back of the pickup that was ahead of me. The impact was so great that when I with the pickup truck's back gate dropped and crushed Bluey's hood. Like a bad Oliver Stone movie, the silence fell and there was wisps of smoke dancing around the scene. I was a little bruised here and there, and I had an inkling that I will have that "You'll feel THAT in the morning!" experience (and BOYYYY that's true!). However, I was more concerned about the fate of Bluey which I know wasn't good from the impacts I felt! I examined the carnage-- Bluey's headlights were hanging down like a loved one's eyes closing for the last time. My car was totalled-- my life was gone-- I drive 75 miles a day working with disabled clients, and I cherish those 75 miles. I remember driving those miles with Bluey like it was holding hands with a girlfriend in a committed relationship, but I actually did not do anything (this time), but instead of a douchebag she had a crush on or a secret lesbian lover (and both ACTUALLY happened to me!) she left me for Fate. I'm sure she had time to say "I love you" before she had gone... at least she started when I pulled her off the road even though the whole rear end dragged with the trunk up ten feet in the air. But I heard the last hum of Bluey as she was pulled onto the tow truck. As the tow truck driver said my car was pretty much totalled, the asshat who drove the Ford was given a breathilyzer test, he wasn't drunk but he had a suspended license. Luckily, the asshat had insurance on the car even though it wasn't his car. So as I was leaving, the North Carolina State Trooper was apologizing for my loss, and then added with his cool Southern twang "Dang, he got you good! I wish I could I arrest him but I can't!" So at least, I was not at fault, which I was always paranoid of-- but paranoia is a pall bearer in this funeral. As I stepped into the hearse, okay tow truck, I took my beloved to her final resting place... a body shop in the Foothills of North Carolina. Bluey's time came and gone in this ball of fate. Even though she was about 15 years old and was pushing 200,000 miles, she left us too early.

I called my Mom the next morning and she said something that made sense, this could be a blessing in disguise. I might have a better car, perhaps a pickup truck, since it has a bigger crumple zone. The insurance company rep said that I should have a claim within the next 24 hours...possibly a rental car might be involved. So I still remain hopeful for now. But whatever happens, fate can be a good thing. Maybe I'll get a nice chunk of change and find another 90's era Toyota Corolla and for some reason I want a white one and call it "whitey" or maybe "Albino Jones". Maybe my memories of Bluey ran deep or just maybe Toyota makes damn good cars. Now I know this sounds like a Springsteen song (maybe I'll write my blog about GIRLS next time!), but this car was special like a girl or even like "Born To Run". There are parts in life in which the little things become central. Bluey became central for a little thing in my life. Other cars (and maybe even women) will appear in my life, and the wheels of life will spin again.  Bluey was just a car, and a car will be replaced often (and I hope very soon in my situation). I'm sure there are other blue Toyotas, and other cars in the world. Bluey is now in the great big parking lot in the sky with Mrs. Goldberg and the others. Who knows what would happen next? Another Bluey might appear in the horizon! Anything could happen anytime. If I did not go out on that errand last night, Bluey would still be here-- but what would happen next; something good or something bad? We willl never know the answers or why Bluey left the highways of life, but fate has a way... We all hear that line that every cloud has a silver lining-- it's true; and the reason why there is a silver lining is because it's chrome plated!

"Too Soon"

I am sure we all heard the news about Whitney Houston Saturday night. Nobody deserves to die that young. It is also tragic that celebrities get that short of a shelf life in this world. I am not a fan of Houston's music, I never was into R&B tinged pop-- in fact, I am not a big pop music fan either. I have more of a punk/metal/alternative/classic rock background. Thus, I'm more into 3 to 4 chords on the guitar and that's it for me. I am also not a big fan of the Hollywood motif; the "live fast, die young" mantra of celebrity life. That's probably the reason why I never liked the mainstream when it comes to music and other facets of pop culture. When an overbloated celebrity falls on his/her ass; I jump on the opportunity to joke about someone's downfall or make fun of the situation. But when it comes to death of a celebrity, I generally follow the "too soon" rule. If the celebrity just happens to die-- I really don't say anything until I have some information about what happened. I also do this out of respect for some friends who are probably fans of a certain celebrity. I think the "Too Soon" clause goes back to 9/11 when pretty much couldn't joke about ANYTHING, but  after a few months everything went "back to normal".

However, after only a half hour of Houston's death, the jokes came out. Most of the jokes were centered around the line from Apollo 13 "Houston, we have a problem". I'm not saying I didn't laugh at the jokes, they were quite amusing. I thought that they were poking fun of the mainstream rather than Houston. I could have posted the jokes on my Facebook page but out of respect for some of my friends who are Houston fans, that and it's "too soon".

The way this is going, this is turning into another Michael Jackson. When Michael Jackson died, the media bandwagon began. All the speculation and gossip began right when Jackson died. Also, the comparisons followed in which Jackson's death was compared to Elvis' death. As I was watching CNN this morning, Houston is already being compared to Judy Garland as far as the drugs and the alcohol is concerned. In fact, the whole thing reminds me of Billie Holiday who had similar struggles with drugs along with Houston and Garland 40 some years earlier.  But in 2012 America, nobody knows anything about Judy Garland nor Billie Holiday since both died in the 1960's and 1950's respectively. So the only equivalent would be Michael Jackson's death since it happened only two and a half years earlier.
Michael Jackson, on the other hand, had more of a fair share of critics than Houston and his death served as cannon fodder for those who wanted to crucify him in the first place. Therefore, the backlash of jokes after Michael Jackson's death was pretty immediate but not after a half an hour.

The question is when is it "too soon"? I mean if anything; my opinion, really; the media pretty much is the blame since Houston's life and subsequent death is documented in reality shows as well as TMZ, and various shows on E! and VH1.When it comes to the press coverage and the celebrities being steamrolled, it only shows that the wolves eat their young in Hollywood! And what is really creepy is that everybody is "surprised". I seen this last night on Piers Morgan on CNN and this morning on NBC. Has anyone seen Whitney Houston's recent photos? She looks emaciated and her skin looked ashen, a far cry from the Whitney Houston of 1986! And who can forget her "Crack is whack" statement!? Is anybody REALLY "surprised"? Then again is it "too soon" to interject our opinions whether we are fans, information seekers, or interviewers on network shows? Now we are hearing reports that Houston was allegedly found in the bathtub, which sounds vaguely familiar to Elvis' death since Elvis supposedly died sitting on the toilet. Thus, the analyzing begins on the "how" and "why" of celebrity death. Yet when at the age of ten when Elvis died, whether he died on the crapper or not was irrevelant, the fact that Elvis DIED was central! 1977 America was more patient, once the mourning ended a month after Elvis dying, the speculation regarding Elvis' death then began; toilet, 19 year old girlfriend, "Dr. Nick" and all! Here's another example, remember the 1986 Challenger explosion? I remember the jokes like the "Need Another Seven Astronauts" and the distasteful "Head and Shoulders" cracks happened at least a few months after the first Space Shuttle disaster. Then again, the Challenger tragedy and 9/11 are cases when "too soon" should never even happen in the first place since the mockery of innocent people dying is in outright bad taste after all!

So are celebrities "innocent", and should not be mocked? The question is who are we mocking-- the monster that Dr. Mediastein created or  Dr. Mediastein himself? Are we then the villagers chasing the monster with our torches, but are we doing this to protect ourselves or is it just for the glory to be judge, jury, and executioner? We will never know the answers to those said questions, neither we will know when it's "too soon" or even not even at all. I hope the best for Whitney Houston's family, paricularly her teenage daughter. For those who are fans, I guess the best thing to do is remember her music. For those who aren't fans such as myself, the best thing to do is when to say when if at all, not make fun of her directly (since Houston's tragic life was an end result of a reckless media), and pretty much forgetting about it and go on to the next forseeable celebrity death.

Parables, Pulpits, and Plebes

I live in the microcosm of America, figuratively and literally. In 2003, I moved from a state of cultural diversity in New York to a state of cultural identity in North Carolina. Within the last eight years, a cultural change happened throughout the country; a Black President, gay marriage laws being passed in some states, debate over woman's health based on cultural choice, and thus the culture wars began and now is in full blow! Where do we go from here?

Me, I would like to go somewhere and stick my fingers in my head and go "la la la la la la la" everytime I hear about all this "cultural" stuff. I would like to drink, party, and get laid (and I am STILL single, ladies!), but I would like to do more. I want to be in a place where I can see a world without the obligations that are tied to "culture" and the mores of a culturally obligated moral society...CHURCH! For those veterans who read my posts on Facebook and read my blogs on Blogger and Myspace, you know all too well I am a creature of irony. I bathe in irony like it is a luxurious bubble bath, splash it on like it is a 50 dollar cologne, and wear it like a well worn leather jacket like an educated, poetic Fonz! For added irony, I try to find my personal space in Catholicism since I live in the middle of Republican/Southern Baptist hell. I consider myself "punk rock" when it comes to religious and moral values. I actually see Jesus as an original Punk Rocker; but instead of a purple mohawk and a safetypin sticking out His earlobe, He still looks pretty radical with the Crown Of Thorns and he rocks the Stigmatas on His Hands like it was an Anarchy sign on each Palm!

I even hang with LGBT's and non-Christians (mainly Pagans) and some Thumpers have a problem with that. Now I'm sorry I use the term "Thumper" and I lost a couple of good friends on FB because of it. Yet, I'm sure the Thumpers call me a "dirty hippie", a "radical", or even a "Commie" but not upfront! However, I don't even know that I'm cool enough to deserve those monikers-- if anything, it would be AWESOME to be called a "hippie", or a "radical"! Therefore, I don't know why some of these Born Agains don't like being called "Born Agains", "Thumpers", or "Jesus Freaks"-- shouldn't having faith in Christ be a compliment as much as calling me a "hippie" would be a compliment to me? And back fo the flak with me hanging out with Gay people and Pagans; didn't Jesus hang out with Canaanites, who were also Pagans? Also, Jesus hung out with Lepers who were about as much as outcasts as the LGBT community of today; with the exception that Leprosy was not considered a disease in biblical days, but homosexuality at one point in history WAS! And there was the concept of "Pro-Choice" back in the Biblical days; I am sure that the Lepers "chose" not to wear red and green because it would clash with the blood and rotting flesh. The point is that I'm not trying to mock the Bible, I am just trying to get along... especially with the Thumpers (even though we tend to agree to disagree).

I am not trying to be Jesus nor I am trying to be the Patron Saint of Irony, I am only following Him because the Bible suggests it. And notice that I said the Bible "suggests" and not "the Bible TOLD me"? Even if I did the "books on tape" thing and I listened to the Bible per verbatim, the Bible DID NOT "tell" me! Back in college, I took as a "Bible As Literature" course-- I took it not only as a prerequisite class for graduation, but I was looking at the Bible to fit in my religious and spiritual searchings. I was in my early 20's and I was looking for "something" but mainly knowledge in the long run-- mainly as a 20 something trying to see what would happen some 20 years later as he would write something on the computer about religion. But from what my professor, my Atheist professor, was saying is that the Bible is a book of moral suggestions like The Odyssey and The Epic Of Gilgamesh (and later in my life A Course In Miracles). And that what it is and should be at least that's how I see it. And come to think of it, isn't morality a suggestion anyway? And that's the problem with Christianity; Jesus turned water into wine-- and the Thumpers turn Jesus into Pepsi-Cola!

I go to church to open my relationship with God; mainly because if the Thumpers are right and the world is going to end, I might as well go out in a blaze of glory! And I like the traditions of a Catholic Mass even though it might be trivial to some. I like the whole "Aerobics" aspect of the Catholic Mass; "sit, stand, kneel/sit,stand,kneel/sit,stand,kneel..." I guess a good day of atonement and prayer not only brings me closer to God but my pants fit much better! Between the "exercise" during mass and the caedence of prayers during Mass, I always feel like the Catholics are like the Marines of Christianity! I like church because it's my time away from the news and the political crap on TV. But as I am approching the time for Collection and Communion, there is a time for the "Lord, hear our prayer" portion of the Mass. This is which anyone of the congregation makes a specific request to pray for and it could be ANYTHING! And that's when the politics come in and my American dream of separation between Church and State. Now, sometimes it could be little stuff like praying for the needy and homeless, and at one time I remember when someone summoned for us to pray for the legalization of marijuana (then again, I was one of the few who actually said "Lord, hear our prayer"). But there's this one guy who always summons the prayer "...for the ban of ABORTION and other forms of child abuse". Sometimes, I mouth the words "Lord, hear our prayer" even though I truly believe it's against my principle-- not that I think that it's a woman's right to choose what she does to her body but for the fact all this is being mentioned in Church! And YES I believe that marijuana should be legalized (And LORD HEAR MY SIN!) but even the legalization of pot, for and against, should not be mentioned in church! It's not my duty as a Christian but as an American citizen-- besides isn't that the point why this country got started in the first place? I am tempted to come out and pray for the separation of Church and State if this joker asks us to pray for the ban of abortion. But then again, I'll just shut up and do my thing. Looks like Thumpers come in all religions, but I might as well live with it! Besides, this is the Church of St. Peter NOT MEL GIBSON!

"It's Complicated" is a gross understatement of my life in the past few years. So in the end, who am I? Am I really an "open" Christian, a "Christo-Pagan", an "Esoteric Christian", or a Liberal Catholic? All I can say is that I AM HERE! What God says, God says. I also am going to a weekly "Course In Miracles" workshop at a local libarary. In this workshop I am trying to coexist myself as a Liberal and a Christian as well as coexisting myself with coexistence between people like me, the Thumpers, and the simple quest for survival. As I said before, I hang out with Pagans (nothing against us Christians and other religions, but the Pagans know how to throw a party!). I spoke to my Pagan friend (Wiccan to be more concise) about my "Course Of Miracles" workshop. She asked me "what it's like". I pretty much said it is like a 12-step program but I don't know what these people in the library are recovering from. My friend said that the people in my workshop "...are all recovering from religion!" I guess this is why everybody ends "The Course In Miracles" workshop with the "Serenity Prayer"! In retrospect, I am trying to do the right thing and have my relationship with God. A relationship with God is like a relationship with a woman; if you call her "the next day" it's like going to church on a Sunday morning (then again, doesn't "the next day" ALWAYS fall on a Sunday morning anyways?). However, if you DON'T call that girl the next day, you'll end up blaming her first be later you end up blaming yourself for blowing the whole thing in the first place. If you don't go to church on a Sunday morning, you can't blame her or anyone else--NOT EVEN GOD, so you end up BLAMING YOURSELF anyway! And I am STILL SINGLE, ladies!


To conclude this blog, I added a song that coincides with what I wrote. The following is one of my favorite songs. The song goes into religion and the consequential circumstances that sometimes follows blind faith. The video itself pretty much sums everything up..enjoy! http://youtu.be/AzNzCiZwk28

Chubby, Like Me

A few years ago, I wrote a blog on MySpace entitled "Fat, Like Me". In that blog, I delved into the "fat discrimination" issue and the attitude towards those who were overweight. I went head-on into it because I had first hand experience about the overweight/obesity issue. I should know, around the time I reprised the blog in 2010, I weighed at least 300 pounds. I will never know how much I weighed back then since I never weighed myself.

Honestly, I did not want to-- because it would be too shocking since I weighed about 180 twenty years earlier. I was a fat kid, and teenage angst made me thinner. I dieted, but I did it out of anger. In my "angry" years, mainly in my 20's, I wanted to be THE GUY with a chip on his shoulder! But something happened, I got laid, okay I got a job first (and THEN I got laid, but enough about me and my libido later). But as I got "happier", and got more money, and got a piece now and then (okay, I'll stop), I started to get relaxed and my anger slowed down (because who can get laid pissed off and broke?) The truth was I was comfortable and I was more accepting towards myself. For those who remembered me in my 20's...well, I am surprised some of you are my friends on Facebook! By the way, sorry I was an asshole back then!

So when I wrote that blog, I was fairly happy and fat... AND THEN THE RECESSION HAPPENED! In the field of work I'm in, mental health (MR/DD),  State and Federal funds got cut and so did my hours. I ended up getting a second job in Geriatrics, but the squeeze already started! It got to the point that I was spending more on gas than food-- whatever food I could buy, I rationed. I kinda got angry again but instead of dwelling on the miserable economy, I set goals. I started walking my dogs more often, then I started to walk myself about 5-10 miles a week.

But the signs were out there to lose weight. I had some fat jokes thrown around by my clients, especially my clients in my Geriatric job! Also, I woke up short of breath on several occasions.When I bent over just to tie my shoe, I felt like I was choking myself! I also purchsed a size 46 pair of shorts that I barely squeezed into. Probably around in April of 2010, I might have weighed 315 pounds! Around that time I wrote "Fat, Like Me", I wrote about being fat because I WAS fat! I'm still fat now, but I now can be considered "chubby".

Two years, close to four pant sizes, and maybe 71 pounds later (I actually WEIGH myself now and I currently weigh 244 lbs.!), my BODY is starting to get happy! I can squeeze into a 38' pair of pants but I can wear size 40's with ease (which is GREAT b/c anything over a 44" waist is at least two dollars more in most chain stores)! I have a waistline now and in the shower, I CAN NOW SEE MY BALLS!!!! Sorry Mom and others who are "sensitive readers"for the frankness, but seeing my "man parts' in the shower is a liberating experience! I even RAN a mile a couple of weeks ago!

With a new waistline come a new attitude. If I can lose 70 plus pounds, maybe I can do ANYTHING! And "anything" is starting to happen, I'm getting more hours, I am now out more often (but eat out less), and I have more women talking to me. I am working to lose a few more pounds (to the point I will write a blog called "Skinny, Like Me"), and I am working to get a girlfriend, maybe a wife-- after I have seen my own "man parts" I wouldn't mind seeing some "lady parts" now and then!

Call it a "diet", but I never really dieted; I just cut down on food and go for more walks (now I'm up to at least 2 miles a day, 5 days a week). Call it an "attitude change' but I still believe that fat discrimation is still out of hand and overweight people are still looked down upon which I still think is wrong. I am in a new category now, but I'm not going to do a commercial nor be on "Biggest Loser" (I STILL HATE that show, by the way). Even now, after all the weight I had lost, I am still blind when it comes to looks. Looks count, but I still go for personalities first! I still can't get into the whole "skinny" thing and I will still have a pizza or chips and dip but it's few and far between. After all of this, I still want a girl who's not "exactly" skinny. The bottom line is that self appreciation comes in any size! And in the words of SNL character, Stuart Smalley "... and that's OKAY!"

Ginger Ale And Oranges

I had one of the best holiday seasons in years. I gave as much as I recieved, for a rare moment I gave something to myself for once! This was "the Christmas of the self fulfilling prophecy" for me. Going through so much shit this year, treating myself was my way to say "screw off' to 2011. The survival mode took over halfway through the year. Instead of praying for my hope, I made my own hope.

Now you think what I just said as "selfish" and maybe "shallow". I am sure that you had those "me" moments as well-- where you just had to think of you and yours as the main goal. "Survival mode" is pretty much the flavor of the year. Most of us got choked by personal beliefs which end up being personal politics. Next thing FOX News, CNN, and MSNBC mixes everything up in the mud and thus the fingerpointing begins. There was an old saying that my 6th Grade teacher Mr. Young said about finger pointing-- he pretty much said "If you point your finger at somebody, there's three other fingers pointing back at you!"

So we're back at the "self fulfilling prophecy" thing again-- we end up with the fingerpointing to the point when we guilt ourselves three times over. Tired of all the bullshit I endured from quick choices, taking other people's words, and other desperate ideals; I decided to take the "f--- it" approach. I went to my happy place, and a "screw 'em if they can't take a joke" attitude.

My "happy place" is my good moments in my past-- a past of innocence and belief. When I was a kid, it was a big deal if you had oranges and ginger ale for Christmas. Dunno why, it was something about that those two things that screamed "Christmas!" to me-- maybe even to others. I dunno why I always defend the "Old School" way of doing things, but in these times don't we need the "old school" things more than ever? Everything is about "here and now", the problem is that "here and now" currently sucks and we tend to blame political parties and political figureheads. I just got tired of the game, and looked ahead to Christmas.

My Christmas and New Years was a more of a defense mechanism than anything. I am not going to details but I had my fair share of broken promises, crazy people, and having my back against the wall. I got sick of beating myself up and for once I decided to kick fate's ass and left it lie bleeding and unconscious in a dark alley somewhere in my imagination. But instead of  a lead pipe and brass knuckles, I used my charm and some positive energy. I decided to do it with a Santa hat and a smile.

Come late December, I set my phaser for "kill" and do all away with the crap. I bought some gifts for my friends and neighbors-- BUT, for once, I decided to get the lion's share of my own gift giving!  I bought myself a leather jacket and a good pair of running shoes. Okay, it's a pleather jacket, but looks like the real thing. The running shoes serve as a statement-- I do a lot of walking and I just started running again; in fact, just yesterday; after 17 years. You can say the times got leaner and I kinda got leaner myself-- blame higher food prices and gas prices-- had to ration both. Instead of worrying and getting pissed off, I did a Forrest Gump and just started walking-- and did it more often. I look good in my pleather jacket and new skids--DAMN GOOD. It might be the weight loss, living a little more cautiously, but more than anything I adopted a new attitude in the past year.

But more than the sneakers and jacket, I treated myself to the creature comforts, namely a 2 liter bottle of ginger ale and a 3 pack of Florida oranges to regain that lost sense of security that I had when I was a kid. As I unpeeled an orange and took a piece in my mouth and washed it down with some ginger ale, I knew everything was going to be alright. And it was-- I got a rare call-in for work Christmas Eve and Christmas Day for a 24 hour shift. It was just for extra hours, but I was grateful for work hours let alone extra work hours which gave me a reason to spoil myself for once!

When I was done with the 24; it was a sleep shift, so I wasn't that tired; I went to a nearby Chinese Buffet and had myself some Chinese-- I could've been other places or even made my own turkey or whatever-- but I WANTED CHINESE. I would traditionally have pizza on Christmas Eve, but didn't have the time-- my quest for roast pork and vegetables and egg rolls took over my senses. Got out of my car, dusted off the work off my new pleather jacket and went to the buffet and had a plate and a half of Chinese ecstasy.  At the end of my selfish but needful feast, I recieved a fortune cookie. I opened it and ate the cookie as the sole dessert of my big savory multi meat meal. I read the fortune of my cookie; it read "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"; but I made lemonade with ginger ale and oranges!

I Owe It All To Tom Smothers

If you haven't noticed my Facebook page, I like to post a lot of edgy stuff on my wall. I write some things on my wall-- mainly for the sake of entertainment, predominantly humor. I like to do this because I think I'm a funny guy; some might not think that way-- but I know I'm funny looking, so that's a start. I also would put links on my wall-- kinda like the Brendan version of The Daily Show's "Moment Of Zen"; which I call "your thought for the night", before I sign off. Some find these pictures hysterical and some might find it offensive. I try to make EVERYONE happy-- but we don't live in a perfect world, do we?
I do other things on Facebook like my "polls". I generally would put two or three related things, could be food, movies, TV shows, or just plain "things", and that's a big hit. I have people on my Facebook page, including people who I haven't spoken to in years, long lost relatives, and even people I hardly know and get into it. I get some incredible responses and I love the energy I get from doing all this. I just broke the 300 barrier in my Facebook friends which is more than half from last year at 125 friends.
I realize that it's the stuff I do that reels people in, and I am very grateful that I have good people who are there when I log into Facebook and other interwebs. I am praying for that moment that I get a video recorder and do the You Tube thing (so you can see how funny I REALLY look). For now, I am still gaining a group of people on Facebook and I am still learning on what the people want.

The reason why I am writing this, or as my mother says "rambling on", is because I just watched an old doc about The Smother Brothers Comedy Hour. The program was centered on Tom Smothers and the writing team that build their success on controversy. Even though the 2010's are a far cry from the late 1960's, the same things remain-- war, politics, the economy, and general distrust over the "establishment". The rift between the public and the "suits" in control have always been there-- whether it was in 1968 or even now as we approach 2012.

The censors was the biggest enemy of the production for the Smothers Brothers. Even though censorship is not as a big deal as it was over 40 years ago, we tend to censor ourselves. When I put stuff on Facebook, I would ask myself "what would my Conservative friends think?", "how would the thumpers react if I post this or write that?". I am sure that many others feel the same way about what they do on the Internet. In my case, I live in North Carolina where things tend to be a little red state-ish around here. It's pretty much what Tom Smothers went through when him and his brother Dick worked for CBS in the 1960's. Although I have a little more elbow room in NC, there was no leeway in Tom Smothers' situation with CBS. Sketches were pulled off the air, musical guests were heavily edited, and Tom Smothers who was the overall producer of the show was always at blows with the top brass at CBS. "Having blows with the top brass", that sounds pretty familiar to most of us, doesn't it?
In this age of the Occupy Wall Street Protester, or even the "Occupy Anything Protester"; the establishment is something that we like to defy. It's pretty much no different from the hippies of the 1960's and the bad taste that remained in the mouths of those that had been prodded and teased by the Establishment.
Although we have a lot more in freedom of speech and we're so technically advanced nowadays, we are still angry. We're still on the outside looking in. We never got invited to the party, but instead of crashing we made our own. Vietnam is long gone, but it has been replaced by Iraq and Afganistan. The days of  LBJ and Nixon are gone as well, but the political chaos today is still ripe for picking. Like Tom Smothers before me, all these political things that surround us can be dealt with some good natured ribbing and a few laughs. Even though some guy's Facebook page has nothing to do with a 1960's comedy/variety show, the basis of entertainment remains.

In my time posting weird crap and writing my "rambling" blogs on the interwebs, I discovered an audience and I thank you for being that audience. If I make your day by asking you what your favorite movie is or posting a picture of a Santa dangling out of a reindeer's butt-- THANK YOU!  If people
don't like my stuff they can go to someone else that can entertain-- there's something for everone but one can never be something to everybody!