Things will be better when you’re gone.

September 14, 2011

First, I’d like to thank my friend for allowing me to post this on his blog since it doesn’t necessarily relate to the overall theme of my personal blog.

These thoughts have been brewing for a while now.  I’ve shared my dark philosophy with my close friends but never quite as out loud or publicly as this platform will offer.  It’s pretty depressing, but I feel that the truth behind the message might change the way that people think about certain issues that aren’t yet socially acceptable for whatever reason.

Tonight I read a post in a Facebook group about a high school student that was expressing how disappointed he was with a conversation that his parents had with one another.  His parents’ conversation was about another set of parents that were extremely upset that their child announced that he was a homosexual and how they would be devastated if their one child did the same.  It inspired me to open my laptop and type this post.

Over the past few years, I have developed a firm stance on gay rights.  Not because I am gay myself, but because I am open-minded.  If that last statement was insulting to you then you should probably read on and probably be even more insulted.  I realize that people might not share the same views as me but they are still entitled to their own views and lifestyles.  That’s my definition of open-minded.  If you feel otherwise based on your religion, political affiliation, or because “that’s the way you were raised” then you aren’t open-minded.  You are basing how everyone else should live on the set of standards that you set for yourself.  Just stop and think about it for a second.  No really, stop right now before reading the next paragraph and just pause to think about the things that you believe and how they affect the happiness of others.  (Pause and count to 30)

I didn’t always feel as passionate as I do now about equality.  It was only a few years ago that the words “faggot” and “nigger” were part of my regular vocabulary.  It’s not something that I am proud of by any means.  Now, I actually am quite offended when I hear people use these words even in a playful sense.  It’s really not funny to me any more.  Who the hell am I (and you) to tell other people how to live their life if it’s not directly affecting the way I live mine?  I might not agree with it but I support that very right.

I thought about how things changed of the course of history and how embarrassing it is to think that the rights that some people have today were denied not long ago in our past.  From slavery to women’s right to vote, it’s embarrassing.  It’s embarrassing to think of how big of a deal it is that we now have a black president because we never thought in our recent past that we would ever see this as possible and acceptable.  It’s milestones like these that expose how narrow-minded we actually are as a society.

Over time, things get better but it’s never fast enough.  I credit the changes in socially acceptable issues to more open-mindedness from generation to generation.  Our ancestors socially accepted rights that denied others of those very same rights and we are still doing the same thing today with gay marriage.  It will again be embarrassing to look back 20 years from now when gay marriage is passed (hopefully much much sooner) and wonder why we waited so long to pass a law that allows people to be happy.  Gays aren’t looking for anything else but equality and we as a society are denying them of that.  That’s embarrassing.

As generations continue they become more accepting to the beliefs of others.  My generation is more accepting of homosexuality than my parents’ generation and definitely more accepting than their parents’ generation.  What is awesome about this trend is that my children will live in a world that is more accepting than the very one in which I live.  It’s very offensive and insulting to accept the concept that things will be better when you’re (I’m) gone and that’s a beautiful thing for our children, their children and so on.

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Grandma

July 6, 2011

My grandmother was the first woman I ever fell in love with.  I’m not unique in that respect.  It was impossible for anyone who ever met her not to  love her.  I was fortunate enough that I was her first grandchild, and as such, I was entitled to a level of treatment most typically bestowed upon Sultans of the Ottoman.  When she whipped up a batch of blueberry pancakes, I couldn’t finish the one on my plate before she had another one ready for me.  I’ve said before, she was the only woman on this planet I trusted whole-heartedly.  She set the bar impossibly high for ladies in my life, which I believe is why I just can’t quite settle down with one.  Sorry to any ex-girlfriends who may take offense to that.  It’s not me, it really is you.

Now my grandparents are by no means overly wealthy.  But I will tell you that when I was a child, if I wanted the red netting from a turkey to put over my head so that I could play Spider-Man, my Grandma would’ve gone out and bought the whole damn turkey and cooked an entire meal so that I could let my imagination run rampant for an afternoon.  (And if Grandma were here, I’d apologize for the curse word, but it’s me exercising my artistic license, Grandma.)  That’s the kind of person that she was.  She would give and give until she had nothing left for herself.  When she was lying on her deathbed in the Intensive Care Unit, and mustering words was the most difficult labor of her life, she pulled me down close to her and said, “I’m sorry I don’t have any money to give you.”  I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it.  She would have given away her entire life savings to me one crinkled up twenty dollar bill at a time.

As laws of science dictate, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction; for every negative, there must be a positive.  And though it seems impossibly hard to articulate something positive out of a loss of this magnitude, I know that’s exactly what Grandma would want.  There are people who go through their short time on this earth never truly being loved or never truly loving someone.  Grandma’s life was a testament that she was loved by many, and more importantly, capable of a wonderful ability to love others.  To know this kind of hurt now that she’s not with us is testimony to the undeniable impact that she left on our lives.

To those that knew her, it’s your charge to ensure that she’s remembered for the caliber of a person that she was.  Blindly faithful, compassionate, dedicated, caring; a thesaurus can’t begin to address how truly amazing she was.  The best part of writing this is that I can say this with complete candor.  I don’t need to brush up any faults.  That amazing woman didn’t have one to speak of.  She wanted to live her life with her husband, her children, and her grandchildren.  She was wired to make sure that everyone else was content, and that was her bliss.

I know that every laugh is going to be a little bit different from now on.  I sincerely loved Grandma with ever ounce of my being.  With absolute certainty I can say that there will never be another person on this planet I care for as much as her.  Watching those last few breaths made me realize I would give away all of mine if it meant letting her have one more day of hers.  Every family gathering will be forever changed now.  Driving through “Onion City” will leave me feeling a little sad.  I’ll never be able to look at the covered wagon at Holiday Camplands the same.  The void left by this magnificent woman will resonate with me for the rest of my life.  My heart is definitely broken.  My chest feels like it weighs a million pounds today.  But I’m going to carry on the best that I can.  I’m going to try to learn to cook pancakes like she did.  So someday when someone tells me that those are the best pancakes they have ever had, I can tell them about Grandma.

If I don’t laugh a little bit, I won’t be able to stop crying. Thank you, grandma.


On dating… and such.

October 17, 2010

As of midnight tonight, I will no longer be a 27 year old man.  Yes, I’ll be turning 28 on October 17th.  I suppose all of my recent medical problems are fitting as I inch closer to the 30 year-old milestone and the unforgiving, calloused grip of death.  I mean, in dog years, I’m at least 200 by now.

All that's left for me to look forward to now.

This recent revelation that death is upon me has also made me start to question my lifestyle, however.  I mean, the last seven years of my life I’ve been a pretty swinging bachelor.  I’ve lived in swanky townhouses, sweet apartments, and baller condos.  I spent money like only a white, middle-class rockstar with a $7,500 credit limit could.  I was a free spirit without a wife or kids (that I know of) to serve as buzzkills for my awesome ideas, like buying a sweet drum set for my Rock Band video game.

As a result of this self-reflection, I’ve decided to expedite the relationship process and join match.com.  Now, there’s a rigorous application process to join match.com, but for the low price of $17.99, an algorithm can be applied to the information I input to find the most compatible partner(s) out there for me!  I have been waiting years for a computer to be able to figure out the people I’d get along with in real life, so this is a pretty big day for me.  I know that love is hard to find, which is why I’m going to let the internet do it for me.

Now, part of the process involves typing up a 250 character (minimum) essay about yourself.  Of course, my favorite part of the whole match.com experience is talking about moi.  So I’m going to put myself out there; to share with you my innermost, intimate feelings, my wants and desires, that will hopefully help me find a compatible mate.  This is what I’ve come up with so far.  It’s pretty solid.

Single and ready to mingle.  I’m a 28 year old entrepreneur.  I work extensively in the field of alternate energy technology, specifically how to turn boll weevil refuse and corpses into a viable source of energy.  I am incredibly interested in the mating habits of zebra muscles and have an extensive collection of them in my grandmother’s basement.  Zebra muscles are just a hobby, however.  My real passion lies in studying the traffic patterns of urban/suburban areas in the Southeast. I’m looking for a lifelong companion and lover who doesn’t mind rubbing the callouses on my feet in the evenings after a long day of working with boll weevil waste and just wants to sit back to a glass of MD 20/20 and some ‘Little House on the Prairie’ DVD’s by the gas powered fireplace.

I’ve also submitted a picture to accompany my brief “About Myself”.

All that you see here could be yours.

Please, keep in mind that this is just a jumping off point.  I’ve still got a lot of work to do before my profile is ready for the internet to determine my lifetime companion.

But don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated as necessary.


A few little known facts about Sean Connery

September 5, 2010

Sean Connery is one of the most successful and instantly recognizable men on the planet.  But for as much as people read about him and watch his movies, there is a lot of mystery surrounding the original James Bond.  I’ve done some extensive research and found a few little known facts about the man that stole all of our grandmothers’ hearts.

Ladies, brace yourselves.

1. Sean Connery was once offered the lead role in “The Passion of the Christ,” but turned it down because he was tired of being type-cast as “The Savior of All Mankind.”

2. Tired of the political unrest between East and West Germany, Sean Connery took one last mission from the British Secret Service and destroyed the Berlin Wall, then subsequently made love to a German spy on the rubble.

3. Sean Connery once saved the entire race of dragons from extinction.

4. When Sean Connery was knighted, he saved the Queen from a terrorist plot, drank a vodka martini; shaken, not stirred, and then made love to the Queen in her carriage.

5. Each time Sean Connery turns down a part in a movie, an angel catches fire.

6. Sean Connery can make a woman orgasm by smiling at her and winking.


7. Typically it’s very gross to sleep with the same woman as your dad, unless your dad is Sean Connery in which case he has slept with every woman on the planet, so it’s unavoidable.

8. Sean Connery physically gave birth to Indiana Jones after carrying him in a womb he created for himself because he was concerned that a woman wouldn’t be able to handle that much sex appeal inside of them.

9. Excited by the news that Sean Connery decided to reprise his role as James Bond in the movie “Never Say Never Again” in 1983, the United States, Lebanon, and Israel signed an agreement on Israeli withdrawal from Lebanon.

10. Sean Connery will make Scotland an independent nation one day by offering the country a drink and then sleeping with it.


11. Sean Connery once wanted to prove how sexy being bald and having a hairy chest were. He then plucked the hairs out of his head one by one and inserted them in his chest.


I would like to go on a date with Heidi Watney.

August 14, 2010

I’m a young, single, good looking guy with a stable career and a razor-sharp wit.  Heidi Watney is a young, single good looking girl with a stable career and a job as an on-field reporter on NESN for the Boston Red Sox.  I just fell in love tonight.

Heidi, we need to get together.

Heidi Watney

I'm not one of those weirdos that will hold up a sign that says, 'Marry me, Heidi!' Let's date first and see where it goes.


Doppelgänger of the Day: Vol. 6

July 22, 2010

I’ve found my new love.  Katy Perry.  I’m so happy because I never thought I’d love again.

I’ve found my new love.  Zooey Deschanel.  I’m so happy because I never thought I’d love again.

Left: California gurl Katy Perry. Right: 500 Days of Zooey Deschanel. That's some over-stimulation.

I wonder what it’d take for me to get these two girls together.


Forgetting Megan Fisher [sic]

September 26, 2009

I’ve been romantically involved with women since kindergarten. It all started when I left my first love letter in Megan Fisher’s supply bin. We had a great relationship, the two of us; when we were up, we were up. I loved sharing my paste with her during those times. I would make her drawings of my dog, Tippy-Toes, and she would tell me about how her dad flew on planes. Those were some of the best days of my life.
The love letter I wrote to her that fateful spring day during free time is still as vivid in my mind now as it was then. It had my standard illustration of Tippy, a sun in the top corner with a smiley face, and a large flower, as large as an actual kindergarten student, with a face that mirrored the sun’s. At the top I wrote “I LOVE YOU” with a heart around the word “LOVE”.   I was most pleased, however, with my muse, Megan, and how she turned out. I remember this because I paid extra close attention to making sure that she had five fingers and five toes. Why you could see her toes, even though I clearly surrounded them with a shoe, I’m not sure. Maybe it wasn’t a shoe. Maybe it was a sandal.  Maybe her shoes were invisible.  I’m an artist and I was inspired, so please don’t ask me to explain such things.
As I eyed my final product one last time before I put it into her supply bin, I felt a sudden rush of excitement surge through me. Things had been great the last few days of class. We had meaningful conversations in the play-kitchen set as she set the table and cooked dinner in the oven. I even washed the dishes for her one day. She played blocks with me and cheered for me as I played basketball. I really felt our relationship was ready to move on to the next level. So I dropped the letter in her bin, crept back to my desk and waited for coloring time so that I could watch her as she took out her crayons.
I stared with a sophomoric grin as our group was called to get our supplies, and I meandered a little slower than usual so I could revel in her excitement as she opened her bin and found my letter. I watched as she pulled her bin open and slowly took it out. She carefully opened it, read the text deliberately, maybe even twice, and smiled. Then she laughed.
If you could imagine the Hindenberg crashing inside of my chest, that’s about how I felt at that particular moment. I still continued my trek to my bin, I needed my crayons after all, but as I stood next to Megan, I had to fight back the tears.
“I don’t love you,” she said, and then walked back to our table. It was that simple.
I was devastated. Things seemed to be going great over the past few days. How could I have misjudged our relationship so terribly. As it turned out, there was another kindergartner in her life. He was from Mr. Jardina’s class next door, and I was none too pleased with him. I found out through the grapevine that her dad and his dad flew on planes together and that Megan had been spending time with him on the weekends, playing real-life kitchen.
She wanted something that I couldn’t offer. Someone who lives next door whose dad flew on planes and played in a real kitchen. Why wouldn’t she have told me this from the start?  I wasn’t that kind of guy and she knew it. I was the kind of guy who laughed when Stephen ate his dog food that we pasted to our letter D worksheets. I wasn’t all high-class and sophistication, like knowing things about airplanes and how kitchen appliances worked.
After that day the whole classroom knew about my love letter. It spread like wildfire. Everyone gave me a wide berth from then on. They could tell I was a man on fire. The days after the dynamic of my relationship with Megan changed forever were some dark ones. I rubbed my paste in her hair when the teacher wasn’t looking. Ketchup packets suddenly became impossible to open. It also started my drinking problem. I couldn’t drink from a carton of milk without using a straw any longer. My life was like an Air Supply song.
Then I hit the absolute bottom. One Saturday afternoon I decided I was ready to end it all. I climbed up on the counter and searched through the cupboards. I found my Flintstone chewables and opened the lid. Child safety lids were nothing to me. I was advanced for my age. I took out all of the orange ones and lined them up on the counter. Three at a time I stuffed them into my mouth, hoping to find some relief to the pain Megan had been putting me through. Fortunately, my mom walked into the kitchen and ripped the bottle from my hands. She asked me what I was doing and I lied. I told her I liked the orange ones. She didn’t know about Megan. How could I ever hope to explain to her the personal anguish I had experienced, finding out my one true love was involved with another man? When she called the number on the Mr. Yuck sticker, they told her to make me drink lots of fluids. By then, my parents knew about my drinking problem and got me a glass of water with a straw. That was the rock-bottom. I was reduced to nothing. It was a dark time in my life.
I finished that year of kindergarten in pieces. Everyday I read Humpty Dumpty and knew exactly how he felt. Once the school year ended, it took at least two weeks of summer before I managed to put myself back together again.
I’ve been reflecting on that life changing year over these past weeks, wondering if I should’ve given Megan my extra carrot sticks at lunch or let her have the blue rug at nap time; wondering if it would’ve made a difference if I had actually done all of things I only thought about. One thing I remembered though, was how hard it was to sit next to Megan Fisher everyday, knowing that she didn’t love me. Especially during “V Week” when everyone was getting Valentines from their significant others and Megan and I couldn’t even stand to look at each other.
But as painful as it was, however, I wouldn’t change anything that happened on that fateful day by the supply bins. As difficult and turbulent as that time in my life was, I really grew a lot not only as a kindergartener, but as person that year. Yeah, sure, I learned the alphabet, alright. But I also learned a valuable life lesson. You can’t change who you are. I may never grow up into the man who likes to wash dishes in the play-kitchen or fly on airplanes. No, I have to find someone who loves that I can do two somersaults in a row or that I have a stuffed animal gorilla that talks when you squeeze its hand.
So Megan, if you’re reading this now, I wish you well, but, looking back at our relationship, I’m glad that it didn’t work out between us.