…And because of you, I’m me

Next to my grandmother, my mom is one of the toughest women I know. Not tough in the sense that she was tough on me, she’s always been a push over when I cried or begged enough for that toy as a child, but tough in the sense that life was never easy or simple on her. She grew up in essentially a single parent home, losing her father at the age of 6 to a heart attack. My grandmother never remarried, and worked multiple jobs to ensure her family was taken care of, all three of the children. My parents did the exact same thing for their three children, always working as many jobs as they could to ensure we had everything we needed, even when it wasn’t necessary, but desired by one or all of us. I don’t remember my mom ever really saying no to anything I ever asked for that was reasonable, even possibly the unreasonable, but in this moment, I can’t think of any unreasonable request this angel ever asked for. There were times, once on our way to preschool, where I uncovered a bag from K-Mart, whose contents included a brand new He-Man figure that was on my 5 year old wish list. Back in those days, kids didn’t sit in car seats past a certain age, and I was at that age where I was free to roam around the back of my parents Subaru wagon while she drove down the road. She thought she had done a great job of hiding the bag, but as all kids can confess, if it’s in the area, we’ll find it. And on this day, I was Sherlock Holmes, unearthing the bag from deep in the back seat of the yellow wood paneled Subaru. Immediately upon seeing the shiny new figure, I couldn’t conceal my excitement and began questioning my mom as to it’s mysterious presence in the car. She replied as calmly as she could that it was for my cousin, for his birthday, and that I needed to put it back. I pressed, I really wanted it. She must have explained the story 3 or 4 more times before I let the tears fly. My mom, being the softy that she is, gave in, let me have it. I ripped that packaging open just in time to arrive at preschool, where I had to leave my new toy in the car for the day. Maybe she held out just long enough to allow me the opportunity to open it in time to have to put it down on purpose, to teach me a lesson, or maybe it just worked out that way. It would be years later when I recounted the story to her that she admitted that the He-Man really was for me, but for Christmas, which was a few months away. My mom has always been amazing at preplanning things like Christmas gifts, starting months early in order to ensure she had enough money to get everything she had in mind for her kids. Often times, it took months, my folks were never wealthy by any stretch of the imagination. My mom wanted to make sure that her kids had everything they wanted (within reason) on Christmas morning. It’s probably the reason I go crazy with gifts at Christmas and birthdays, getting to see the faces light up when that package finally gets unwrapped. She loves it, and it’s the same reason she let the 5 year old me open that He-Man figure that day. She never wanted her children to hurt and if she had a way to stop that hurting, she’d do it.

When I left for college at 18, my mom was there in the drive way as my dad and I filled up the bed of my pick up with my things, doing what she’s always done when one of her kids was leaving, cry. She pretended to smile as she was excited for my new adventure, but the tears always told the story. Even to this day, 15 years later, she stills cries every time I leave or drop her off at the airport to go home. I’m her first, the baby, and I love that she still misses me everyday, as much as I miss her. She’s always been a protector, even when I didn’t need protecting or want protecting. Anytime she saw me hurt, I know she hurt too. I put her through hell growing up, rarely a time when an emergency room visit wasn’t a half pipe session away, or some girl wasn’t getting busy breaking my heart. Through all of the pains of adolescents, my mom was right there to help me through it. Always calm, always present. I can’t remember a single time where she wasn’t in the stands or on the sidelines at a game, or rushing home from work to make sure I had a ride to practice. Never a time where I needed to be rushed to the hospital for x-rays where she wasn’t the first responder. I always knew that no matter what was wrong, my mom would be there in a heartbeat, and it instilled in me, that same response to everything that goes wrong for someone in my universe. I’ve always known that there was no way I could ever repay the sacrifices my parents made for me and my brother and sister. I’ve just tried to be an example of the man they have raised me to be. Sure, I’ve fallen short plenty of times, I’m human, I make mistakes. But the underlying desire to treat everyone as well as I wanted to be treated came from them. There are plenty of people in the world that can quote me saying things like “you can thank my mom for that” or “my mom would kick my ass if I didn’t” in response to opening a door for someone. Every girlfriend I’ve ever had knows that my mom raised me to respect women and take care of them, as if she was ever present. It’s the things I learned from my mom, and watching my dad with her, that taught me a lot about how to treat other people. Respect and cooperation, partnership and never giving up, regardless of how tough things were.

To my mom I say, thank you, thank you for helping guide me to being the man I am today. I only hope I can continue to be as strong as you have been your entire life. Happy Birthday! I love you

Stay Blessed-

If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be me…

I just finished reading the 1st chapter of the Artie Lange book, “Too Fat to Fish” on my recent step into the wonderful world of the iPad. It’s an easy read so far and the first pages I read are dedicated to his father and how he shaped the person he became. Today is my dad’s birthday, an amazing father, an inspirational man who’s hard work has never gone unnoticed, and cemented in me a desire to never quit. Possibly to my own detriment at times, but has created in me, a man who isn’t afraid of earning through hard work and thick skin. For as long as I can remember, my dad has killed himself to provide his family every opportunity that they could dream. Always working 12-14 hour days, sometimes at multiple places, and then coming home to mow the lawn and do yard work, or fix a basketball hoop my brother and I tore down while screwing around earlier in the day. Or straight from a hard day of building houses turn a quick shower and then rush me off to baseball practice, where he was also a coach. He wasn’t the easiest coach I ever played for, but he was always the fairest and held me to a standard above all others. It was this man who instilled one of the most important life lessons in me during an all star tournament when I was 14 or 15. We were playing a double headed in this tournament, back to back games in the raging 100 degree heat of Southern Idaho summer. We’d just lost 3-1 in a tough heartbreaking battle and no one seemed poised for a second game. I’d had a passed ball behind the plate that led to the go ahead run, and our eventual loss. While everyone was hustling to find shade for the players to cool down in and get us all hydrated, he looked me in the eyes and told me “you know physical mistakes are ok, it’s the mental mistakes that are not acceptable. Shake it off and go win this next one.” I went 3-4 with 2 RBI’s that next game and we won 7-1. It’s a lesson I’ve carried through every aspect of my life since, whether it be on a ball field or in business. It’s the ability to accept that we will make mistakes and we will fall short if we depend on the physical skill.

I’ve known for a long time that it’s my ability to win the mental game when going head to head with any challenge. I was never the tallest, strongest, smartest kid, or adult, but heart is something else my father taught me, or rather, instilled in me. It was his perseverance, his relentless ability to keep going when the cards were down and things looked bleak, to provide for his family. Of course, he never did any of this alone, he had (and still has) the best wing man he could have along his side in my mother. Not to take anything away from her in who I am, but it’s his birthday today, which means I’ll have lots of expanding to do next month on her birthday. It was their partnership that taught all three of their children that family is more important than anything you can buy, anywhere you can travel, any win. Family is the hub that makes life’s successes and failures mean something. No matter what they were going through, they did it together, for the family, for me and my brother and sister. I have watched my father go through loss after loss of friends, jobs, family, NBA championships, and never once did he throw his hands up, despite every reason to say screw it. He’s just not built that way, and either am I. It’s because of him, that I am who I am today. The same passion in life to provide, to take care of, to fix. I am a fixer because my dad is a fixer. We may not be awesome at it all the time, but there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to make everything whole, every time. I think it takes a lot of heart to take the kind of beatings he’s taken, from early childhood, to bullshit bosses and company politics he refused to play a part in. He never waivered his character, he never shied away from responsibility, he never quit being the greatest father I could have been blessed with. I know he made it a goal to be better than his father was, and always wanted his children to be an even better parent than he was. Somehow, in the three years since my son was born, I keep trying to figure out how I could ever exceed that bar that he set for me. I don’t know if it’s possible, but if you ask him today, he’ll tell you I will find a way, because where there’s a will, there’s a way.

When I graduated high school, he gave me a card that I keep close to this day, 15 years later. It was simple, poignant, and again, life changing. I know it’s been seen by many over the years, and I’m not quite sure who the quote came from, but in my eyes, the words are his. “May you have enough success to keep you eager but enough failure to keep you humble.” Anyone that knows the real me, knows that I love without caution, hurt like I’m dying, and live like there’s no tomorrow. Thank you pops, for being the man to me that I will always hope to become. I love you. Happy birthday old man

Stay Blessed-

With Clear Eyes and a Full Heart

I’m sitting in a little room with some bossy testers this morning, asking for help on nearly every script they run. I’m doing my best to avoid rolling my eyes or sighing deeply with every question. It’s been fairly uneventful to say the least. All the while, I’ve kept my headphones on with Hailey Williams belting out Paramore song after song. I think I’ve fallen for her voice as my new guilty pleasure. I’ve hardly heard the lyrics, but loving each and every second of this teenage temper tantrum.

It definitely beats my mood around all of the debate regarding the proposed site of a Mosque being built near Ground Zero in New York. New polls hitting the news services this morning show upwards of 70% of people polled in NYC are opposed to it, mainly because of the religious faith of the terrorist cowards that attacked the World Trade Center in 2001. I have to say that I’m appalled at the reactions of Americans opposing a building being erected, since that is all it is, a building. What takes place inside of that building has nothing to do with the acts of a few religious zealot nutbags on September 11th, except that they share the same religious beliefs as the people who seek to build a Mosque. It’s now also a political position as senate and mayoral races are in play in New York, polls are actually showing results of popularity based on a candidates position on the building and it’s location, ridiculous. There’s also the constitutionality argument, which some of these same pollers are all in favor of ignoring for the purpose of refusing to allow this build to happen. Hypocrites I tell you! We, Americans, are in this country because those that came before us, needed to escape religious persecution. It wasn’t business, it wasn’t mans need to conquer, it was to have the freedom to pray as we wanted, to live in a world where religion was allowed to each man and woman. The men who drafted the constitution knew this as well and ensured that religious persecution would not be allowed in this, our America. Now that someone’s feelings are being hurt with a reminder of tragic events with the placement of a building, they are willing to start tearing out pieces of the constitution to fit their needs. It’s a sad day in America folks. I understand the tragedy of events on 9/11, I understand loss and sadness and the anger that comes along. I know what it’s like to be reminded of tragedy and it never gets easier, the sadness and anger stay. Perpetuating that anger and hatred based on someone’s religious beliefs and where they meet doesn’t fix anything. In this entitlement world we’ve built for ourselves, we’ve moved beyond the constitution and it’s inherent rights, we’re tweaking them to fit our needs, and now persecuting others for the same reasons our forefathers left Europe. We’re finding people guilty by association, and not even physical association, but worse and a larger stretch, religious. I’m saddened, I truly am. As a parent who teaches tolerance and acceptance, equality and forgiveness, my son is growing up in a world that I’m starting to no longer recognize. The racial and religious climate has gotten so heated in the past 18 months, that I cannot believe there was ever a time when reasonable people were at the same table to abolish slavery, draft equal rights legislation and even allow women to vote. I’m perplexed by the thousands of openly hateful and racist  comments I read in daily articles within the online  news resources, not able to understand where these people come from, and how they’ve successfully been able to live in this world with so much bigotry and hatred in their lives. It just doesn’t make sense to me. RARR

That’s my rant for today, and I honestly don’t care if anyone disagrees with me. Maybe if you do, don’t tell me.

Stay blessed-

God Willin’

It’s a decent Tuesday morning, although I was up all night with my brain in hyper drive. The weather has been exceptional now for going on 5 days straight and looks to be sticking around for awhile. With exceptional Seattle weather comes heat and it’s the type of heat that fills our air conditioning free homes and sticks around through the wee hours of the morning. Not that I’m complaining, how can I, I love hot weather. My ability to sleep in my own bed through said heat spell isn’t as up to speed as my desire is to keep the heat around. So, the past two nights have been tough from a climate perspective, but the last 4 nights have also included excessive brain function suppressing my 6 hour sleep limitation for functional human interaction. This isn’t anything new if you’ve been reading this rag for awhile, I’ve always been overtly aware of my thoughts, especially right before bed. I used to have a deal worked out where there was to be no serious conversation right before bed. I think I need to reinstate that rule internally again.

I’ve snagged a bunch of (new) music in the past couple of weeks and have yet to be disappointed in any of the selections. I’m fairly impulsive when it comes to buying music, someone tells me I’ll like something, I take their word for it, an article calls something a must listen and it’s not in the pop charts, I’m all over it. I am a consumption addict of music, I can never get enough. In the past 3 weeks, these are my top 5 (in no particular order):
1. Dangermau5- “For Lack of a Better Name”
2. Rusko- “O.M.G.!” Dubstep and down tempo stuff, crazy all over the place, need big subs to be heard
3. K-OS- “The Anchorman Mixtape” free DL @http://tour-tv.com/mixtape/
4. Ray Lamantagne- “God Willin and The Creek Don’t Rise” Ray never misses a beat!
5. Avenged Sevenfold- “Nightmare” Awesome from start to finish!

All of them are daily play worthy, grab ‘em immediately!

I hit 90 tweets today, sounds so weird. I never really got the whole twitter thing, but outside influences have pushed me into using the thing. Stuck at 17 followers, need me some more so I don’t feel so ignored in the twitterverse… I didn’t just create a new term, did I? I’m still learning the whole # hash mark and @people thing but hey, it’s the first time I haven’t been an early adopter of something techy/social right? I mean, I was blogging before it was even know as such. I think back then it was still an online journal

Oh well, not a whole lot of inspiring crud falling from my fingers today, sorry folks. I think the restlessness is catching up with me and I may just need some decent sleep tonight to get back to spreading my wisdom… oh, and don’t forget to follow my tweets, hahaha! twitter.com/problemchildry

Stay blessed and enjoy the new tunes!

Repost the Past

I wrote this about four years ago, and rereading it this morning, was a stark reminder that I needed. Maybe you do too, it’s all about changing the mindset sometimes.

Tuesday, February 28, 2006

One Year has Past

"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same" -Anonymous
I started writing about this 40 some odd weeks ago, knowing that no matter what I did, no matter what I tried to do, it would still be on my mind, pouring out of my fingers, running out of my eyes. I knew that I had hit a moment in my life that would forever be remembered. You know there are so many things in this world that mean very little and somehow we as people get so caught up in them. We can talk trash about anyone, argue about the smallest things, say hurtful things in the heat of the moment and for what? What does it all matter in the end?
I've been worrying about that a lot lately, "the end". I know in the last year I've written a few things a long those lines and maybe it's just my internal clock ticking a little louder each year, but I've honestly finally realized how precious this time is that I have. It took losing my closest friend to understand how much I've been afforded in this life of mine. Why do I spend time bitching and moaning about this and that? Why don't I take moments every day to just smell the air, feel the ever present NW Weather on my face? Why not just drive somewhere new, accidentally misses a turn and just go for awhile. Roll the windows down in the cold and just be thankful I'm here?

I've had a year to think about a lot of things and my words of wisdom are as follows:
- If you think it might hurt, do it. There is no reward sweeter than the one thing you risked everything for.
- There is nothing more important than your family and friends. Do your best to repay their support by being better to everyone else in your life.
- There is no shame in asking for help, there is always someone ready to listen. I've always got an ear if you need it. It's cheaper than what I pay my therapist.
- Don't be afraid to cry, it just feels better to let it out. Even I do it
- Let music into your heart and lead your soul, be open to anything, you may find beauty in the strangest of melodies.
- Love bigger than you ever have
- Never ever give in to the darkness
One of the many things I learned from Pat is one of the simplest thoughts that we all ignore far too often, "be sure to try something new every day. You never know when your last day will come." I pray that I have plenty of days to come, I still have a lot of things to do. Make sure you don't waste this time either, go do something. Go snow shoeing, skydiving, bungee jumping. Do something this weekend that you said you'd never do, that you were afraid to try. Remember, pain is temporary, glory is forever. I don't want to die wondering what if, so I'm going to do my damndest not to.

"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead.
Just walk beside me and be my friend." - Albert Camus

Posted by Ryan Scott at 1:20 PM

Internet Tough Guys

I miss my daily train ride into the city. Weird for me to think I’d miss having a vehicle at any point to just grab my shit and go at a moments notice. Maybe what it is I miss, is the 35 minutes of sitting down without having to be in control of the destination, where I had a few minutes here and there to write down my thoughts, read the news before getting into the office, or just shut my eyes for an extra precious moments in the morning, or the evening.

I think I could have skipped reading most of the news this morning, or more so, the comments that people leave on news stories. The internet has been an amazing tool for sharing information, and allowing people to have the latest news inside of seconds of it happening. Unfortunately, it’s also allowed for thousands of people at a moments notice, to unleash commentary or opinion, regardless of it’s content. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. I cannot believe how many racists exist still in this modern age we live in. I am astonished by the narrow minded, intolerant, and uneducated responses I read. So much so, that I get physically sick thinking that these same people could be the guy sitting in the corner of the 17th floor outside of my office, or the director of the daycare my son spends each and every weekday at, or even you. I’m smart enough to know the character of my friends well enough that I would not suspect any of you to be these same arrogant hate monger internet tough guys spewing nonsense across every news story surrounding our President or the economy. It’s appalling though, and it scares me to know that this is really the “voice” of our country on display for the entire world to read. It also frightens me to think that my son is going to grow up in a world like this, it’s crazy. I never thought it would get worse than it was in the 40’s and 50’s, and somehow, it’s seems that every day, another racist is spewing hate on the news stories within the world of the AP and Yahoo. I am saddened to be sure. We all should be. I’m not quite sure what else to do about this, I get caught up in commenting on these comments, a written argument, that only fuels further hate, with back and forth comments, lots of thumbs down, etc. Arggg,, it’s so frustrating… I think I’ll stop reading the comments section for now…

New music on the iPhone (4):
- Rebelution ‘Bright Side of Life’ Awesome, awesome awesome! A heavy mix of roots reggae meets Sublime with the poetic lyrics of a soul man. I’m digging this album, it’s perfect summer boat music to chill to
- 3Oh!3 ‘Streets of Gold’ I’m not normally into this kind of “poppy club house rock” thing but once in awhile, I guess it’s ok… Don’t shoot the messenger, you’ll either laugh at the witty lines or puke all over it’s nonsense.
- Marco Polo ‘The Stupendous Adventures of Marco Polo’ Hip Hop has been missing ODB and raw Wu Tang for sometime. Seems like most “Hip Hop” albums these days sound a lot like Kanye West running out of ideas for beats, over produced and not original. This Marco Polo album is definitely not that. It’s got a lot of raw old school feeling and some new school progressive beats. You’ll either love it or hate it, it’s not for everyone. I just happen to be into it.

I’m heading to Orange County for the weekend, which is sure to be over too fast, but the optimist in me is going to rock out like I’m 20 again and enjoy every last freekin second of the trip. No fun sponges this weekend, pura vida and livin’ fast… Stoked to see those of you in the OC and won’t think twice about making a fool out of myself, we only live once.

Stay blessed

Tinkered

I haven’t written in a long time. I’ve  just have been busier in the past few months than I can remember being in a very long time. There’s a weird discomfort that’s come over me today that has compelled me to sit down for a few moments and just compose something. I cannot get my arms around it, this feeling of impending gloom or sadness. I don’t know what’s driving it or possibly digging it up. I’ve been stoked on things in life for a while now, haven’t been feeling that depression or anxiousness that pushes me into my shell. I’m a little concerned that maybe, I’ve been ignoring the things that used to eat at me, remaining blind to the parts of life that hurt, and maybe I’ve just haven’t been as happy as I thought I was. That scares me. I don’t think so, I don’t feel as though I’ve been lying to myself about being stoked on me. I don’t tell myself stories and build up my own ego for the sake of getting through the days, that’s just not me, not anymore. Not in a long time. If you’ve read my words over the years, you know intimately that I have no problem sharing my shortcomings, my weaknesses, my fears and feelings. You know that I am proud, yet humbled, and I’m human, hurt like anyone else, I just share it with perfect strangers.For the last 4 or 5 months, I’ve been beyond it; beyond feelings of self doubt, beyond creating explosive situations that bring me to tears. I put aside those insecurities, those things that cause me hurt and suffering, at my own hands, and moved forward.

I haven’t cried in a long time, yet, I haven’t had any pain in which to bring about the tears. Things have been exceptional; work, life, family and friends. As much as work can be exceptional, maybe more so, busy and chaotic and challenging. Food for my professional soul. I’ve spent time travelling for business, seeing friends out of state, going to sporting events, all thanks to work. Not entirely a bad gig! My life outside of work has been enriched by great friends, an amazing child and the satisfaction of being able to provide. I’ve seen my family, some I hadn’t seen in 5 years, and spent time at breakfast and a wedding in the past month. Oh wait, I did cry. At my cousins wedding reception, near the cake, was a picture of my grandmother, along with others passed, as a “wish you were here” shrine of sorts. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I couldn’t hold back how much I still miss her. It reminded me why I hadn’t seen “Aunt Mary” or “Uncle Jim” in 5 years. The last time I had seen them was at her funeral, a hard reminder to say the least. There was some comfort in hugging “Aunt Mary”, she’s my grandma’s sister, and hugging her reminded me so much of hugging Grandma. It was nice. Wrote some new tunes with kid brother that hopefully he can polish into something more than a horribly sung scratch track, it makes me miss living in the same house.

I’ve spent some decent time with friends, never as much as I’d like, definitely not as much as it used to be, but some decent time. We’ve tinkered on my motorcycle, watched movies, shared meals and beverages, laughed ourselves silly, hugged and held on tight.

the awesomeness abounds, and yet…

I started writing this a few hours ago and reading through the words here, I’m already feeling lighter from my memory flashback moment, just wish it was a pinpoint reason for this feeling…

State of being, a juxtaposition

16 gigs of music and there’s nothing on my iPhone I feel like listening to this morning in my office. I’m constantly pulled back to Aaron Lewis tunes on dark cold days like today. It’s a Monday, the first day of what’s to become 5 weeks of non-stop work focus, the starting line to our first release on this project I’ve been involved with since September of last year. It’s been a rollercoaster lesson in project management, and I can only assume this audience isn’t too keen on hearing all of the ins and outs of how this thing has progressed, I’ll keep it short and simple. It’s been chaos, over and underwhelming at times. It’s been some 65+ hours a week, and a few where I could simply coast. In a nutshell, it’s been intense, and we’re just getting started. We’re scheduled to start UAT (User Acceptance Testing) this week, where we’ll do everything we can to break the system, make sure everything we’ve built works as designed, and anything we break, fix before we roll it out live the first week of May. I’ll be heading to Dallas, TX next week to work with my team there on how to use this beautiful new thing we’ve designed and built, come home for a week for some last minute fixes and meetings, and then turn right back around to Dallas to launch this bad boy. From there, who knows where to next. Right now there’s talk of Cairo and El Salvador for a week at a pop, and as much fun as that sounds, my cynical side is resisting and just wanting to stay put for a little bit. Anyone seen my old adventure hat??

So yeah, I’m stuck in this work-centric juxtaposition when I’d much rather be on the broader topic of me and all the things that you guys love reading. I’ve had some pretty killer weekends lately, met some super rad people, hung out with the best of my friends (well, not all of them), seen some ridiculous moments of alcohol induced humility, spent some amazing time with my amazing son, talked on the phone for hours with people too far away to hug, and simply have just been smiling all along the way. It’s been a huge relief honestly, letting go of the parts that hold back smiles, real smiles, and just enjoying this wild ride. I know you want more than that, and I’d love to divulge all of the dirt and empty out the skeletons, but I’m still a gentleman. Some things, you just keep close to the chest, others to the hip.

Interesting concept posted by a good friend this morning. It’s called the Six Word Memoir, and made me stop and think about what 6 words could ultimately end up on my headstone? It’s funny, the first thing I came up with, I actually stole  borrowed  in my Senior Year quote “Words and Music, My Only Tools” from a Mother Love Bone song. Since then, I’ve had a couple other originals such as “Don’t you only get one shot?” and “The  beginning of the end, again” and so on. Give it a shot, what six words would you end with?

There’s my gems today, give me time, “I’m sure there’s more of this coming” (couldn’t resist one more)

Stay blessed-

Til Death…

So I took a week off, and it was a really busy week, professionally speaking. My return from bachelor party down time in Portland, turned into some very long to-do lists in the office and very little free personal time. I think by weeks end last Friday, I managed to log about 65 working hours both weeks. So, sorry for no bliggety- blog action. Let’s start this off where this past weekend began.

My little man and I headed out from daycare Friday night to the Tacoma Dome for a night of FMX at it’s finest. It was the first night of the ‘Nuclear Cowboyz’ tour, a mix of the Metal Mulisha and the Soldiers of Havoc, riding for just under 2 hours on a pretty impressive indoor ramp setup. In between sets of insane freestyle tricks, there were the “Nuclear Cowgirlz” or what I like to call, “out of work strippers”, dancing on poles, with stilts, and fire and giant flashlights. All in all, it was a killer show, tons of pyro and fireworks, and the kicker was a train of 13 straight bikes doing back flips over a 100 foot gap. It was pretty impressive and Jackson had a blast. Anytime I’d scream or clap, he was right there with me, hands in the air, clapping and turning to me to ask, “Daddy! Did you see that!!!” There was something so contagious about that smile and interest, it seemed like every hardcore Metal Mulisha  fan around us was stoked to see how stoked he was!

Took us about an hour to get home thanks to some brilliant parking lot attendants at the dome. You’d think after all of the years of events at that place, they’d have this figured out. Normally, I’d park off site, but when you take a two year old to an event with 10 thousand people, you just want to get them safely back to the car as quickly as possible. Somehow, he managed to stay awake and talk to me the entire way home, only to fall asleep in my jacket as we made our way into the house. It was a perfect ending to an awesome night with my bubba.

Saturday morning was a shock, as my arm was being yanked from the socket by an overly awake toddler at 8 am. Despite being awake long past his bedtime the night before, he was wide eyed and bushy tailed to tell me “it’s pretty outside” and he was so right. The sun was in full motion that morning and as the day went on, the temperature rose along with it. It was a very pretty day and we made the most of it. By mid-afternoon, it was nap time for both of us, as I had a long evening ahead of me.

By 3:30, I decided it was time to get moving and get dressed for a wedding. Not just any wedding, but one of my closest friends Bethany and her awesome (now) husband and my friend, Steven. Of course, I never really need an excuse to wear a brand new suit, but this was a pretty good one. I even wore a tie, which rarely happens. In fact, thanks to the internet, I got to dust off my tie tying skills, and had to take a shot at some rather interesting knots. I stuck with the oldie but a goodie, the four-in-hand knot. I also took a shot at some interesting pocket-square folds and in the end decided against wearing one at all. I did however rock an amazing tie, black with purple skulls and cross-bones… Would you expect anything less? Needless to say, it took me a bit to get all that square and get out of the door. A 40 minute drive up to Redmond, a few adult beverages at J.J. Mahoney’s with Jake, and a short trip across the street, and I was in the wedding location by 5:58 pm for a 6:00 pm wedding start. The good news here is that I know no wedding ever starts on time. Probably because of people knowing it won’t start on time and moseying on in a few minutes late. At least I’m not the only one!

Inside and a good majority of my nearest and dearest friends were already there, including some people I had no idea were going to be there (@Juggins79) for instance. That’s my first twitter reference FYI A few minutes of hello’s and hugs found me sitting with Steve and Tricia and ready to get the show on the road. The bridal party made it’s way in ushered by Chalmers grooms men, everyone looking good and stoked. The traditional “here comes the bride” music begins and in comes Bethany, looking amazing and calm. I have to say that in all of the weddings I’ve attended, this had to be the most relaxed group of people ever, which only further solidifies my long standing belief that these two were absolutely made for each other. Anyone in attendance at this wedding can only say the same, perfect. It was a quick ceremony, Bethany’s dad resided over the vows. I’m sure it had to be tough, marrying your daughter off, but he did an amazing job holding it together. It wasn’t until he read a blessing to Steven that he was audibly chocked up. It was a very nice moment to be sure. Like I said, the wedding went perfectly, not too long, not too short, all of the right people hanging out and sharing in their moment. Food was spot on, they never ran out of booze, and when it was time to hit the street, the cabs were lined up to sweep folks off to the next venue.

Waking up Sunday morning, roughly about the same time 24 hours earlier, this time without a 2 year old pulling at my arm, but a stiff headache and a fog of where I actually was, was interesting. Still dressed in my new suite, sans a jacket and tie, pockets still possessing my phone, keys and wallet, I crawled out of the guest bedroom of the girls new house and made my way out to the truck. No idea at the time, when I had actually decided to go to bed, but my general feeling was that it hadn’t been too early. I was definitely feeling the effects of an awesome wedding reception. I’d later find out it was probably around 2am, JV for me, even at 32. Drive home was less than entertaining, mix of sun and rain the whole way back, blah, much like how I was feeling, despite the enormous cup of coffee I grabbed before hitting the 405 home. Shower, tooth brush, and off to pick up the monkey from his mom, along with the dogs. I knew it was about to be a longer day than I was ready to live through. It actually turned out quite well, Jackson and I played a lot of trains, cleaned out his crab cage (yes, we have 3 hermit crabs now), watched some basketball, colored, took a nap on the couch, and played some more. It was a pretty chill Sunday, thank God for that. The day ended with a win for Dem’s in the Healthcare vote, the return of Breaking Bad and a live-and-free UFC fight on the Versus network. All in all, an amazingly fantastic weekend.

I should have some witty or thoughtful insight on weddings and such, but my brain just isn’t there today. Stay tuned however, as I owe it to my newly married friends to have something wise to say.

Cheers and stay blessed-

It’s PDX, not P90X

The timeline of a journey

Journey
–noun
1.a traveling from one place to another, usually taking a rather long time
2. passage or progress from one stage to another: the journey to success.

A journey can be an interesting retrospective, years and years of a path unchartered. Never knowing exactly where you’re heading or what challenge you’ll face, what victory you’ll experience, what loss will impact your soul. Just remaining constant and present in your own life, to see the next fork in the road. And how many little journeys take place within the main trek? Or are they all a part of the same journey? This past weekend, I joined 19 other guys on an epic journey, a celebration of our great friend Chalmers, and the completion of his journey as a single man, as he prepares to set a new course, this time, hand in hand, with an amazing woman, as her husband.

The Jupiter Hotel in Portland, Oregon was the jump off point for the weekends festivities. I caught a ride with my old roommate and consummate friend Jake late afternoon Friday and we made the drive down to PDX. I’ve never spent any significant time in the sister city to my adopted home base, and I’ve never really given it the shake it deserved. I always pictured Portland as a wanna-be Seattle, full of patchouli drenched hippies and environmental activists. What I found, was a city that has an amazing night life and more culture than I could possible ingest in a weekend. I had my eyes opened, and I’m officially apologizing now for my lack of interest Portland, although, I don’t think I’m quite hip enough to fully be embraced by your scene. The hotel was a big sign of just how hip PDX is. Jake and I pulled up to the Jupiter around 9:00 pm Friday night, to be greeted by an outdoor gathering of people partying it up Vegas style, security everywhere, live music and no where to park. I thought for sure that somewhere along our 3 hour drive down I-5, we hit a portal that worm-holed us right to 1950’s Las Vegas. Coincidentally, if I ever find that vortex, I’ll be the richest man in the world and would be definitely worth knowing. It was immediately apparent to me, that we were in for quite a weekend. After checking in and getting settled in our room, which consists of laying claim to a bed and  throwing our bags down, we were off to find the rest of our crew. That wasn’t hard, as the exterior of every hotel room door is coated in a chalkboard material. Give a bachelor party a medium to be creative with chalk after consuming a 6-pack or three of ice cold PBR, and the artistic talent flows on nearly every surface. Insert your favorite dick and poop joke here, they sure did. The guys continued rolling in, one car load after the other, until 20 of us decided it was time to hit the city bars. I can only imagine what drivers crossing the Burnside bridge must have thought as this eclectic motley crew made it way into the Pearl District, personally I took inventory of everyone in our pack and knew that any bar we all walked into was in for making a lot of money that night. I also learned quite quickly that Portland doesn’t seem to care about capacity issues in their bars. Both Friday and Saturday nights, we walked into bar after bar that was well over comfortable occupancy before we came in. Not that I’m complaining, as there was never a time of waiting more than 3 or 4 minutes for that next tasty beverage. I just remember thinking, if there’s a fire, I won’t be the last one out. First bar of the night was a hole called The Tube, literally a narrow hole in the wall, designed (if you can call it that) to look like a euro-train car, or at least in one quarter of it, full of hipster kids covered in tattoo’s and vintage clothing jamming out to hip hop record after record. It was cool, way laid back and easy. I’ll also mention, that per capita, Portland might have the most consistent groups of pretty girls out at the bars. Kind of like the ‘Déjà Vu’ slogan says, “100 pretty girls, 1 ugly one”, PDX might consider using something similar. No matter where we went, that certainly seemed to be the case. Speaking of journeys, one that started roughly 15 years ago with one of my closest all time friends and constant ear during some formidable college years, got back on track. I hadn’t seen Jenny in almost 14 years, and through one of the only upsides of social networking, we reconnected a little over a year ago, trading a note here and there, trying to make plans to get together and it just never worked out. Well this was the time, and one which validated how I’ve always felt about my friend Jenny. The minute we saw each other we shared a 14 year overdue hug on the street that lasted for minutes of us laughing and squeezing and laughing and looking at each other and squeezing some more. It was simply food for my soul and filling this empty place in my heart that’s been missing my friend for far too long. It didn’t take 2 seconds for us to talk like we always did back in those days, as if years hadn’t gone by without us even knowing where the other one was. She was still the girl from Soda Springs Idaho that was my confidant, my shoulder, my ear at a turning point in my adolescent college life. The same bright eyes, with 14 years of stories on her own journey that we will have to spend countless hours discussing and sharing over a few bottles of wine some other time. Hopefully not 14 years from now.

It was a great night.

Saturday morning began much like every Saturday morning as the parent of a toddler, this time without the need to be up at a certain time or a toddler standing next to my bed waking me up. My bodies internal alarm clock just doesn’t know the difference between being out of town and being at home, even after a night of heavy drinking that found me with one foot on the floor as I did my best to pass out as quickly as possible around 3:30 am. It was 8:05 am and no amount of fighting with the pillow was going to let me fall back asleep. I rolled out of bed, grabbed last nights clothes off of the floor and made my way out of the hotel room and across the street for a cup of wake up java for me and an organic energy something for my hung-over roommate. Portland can’t quite wipe off the hippie image I’ve envisioned so easily when it’s coffee shops sell “organic all natural” forms of red bull. Hair a mess, clothes smelling like last nights cigarette and gin, I sauntered back towards the hotel. Hangover in full effect, it was just my luck that as my right foot stepped off the curb, a motorcycle led procession of a Chinese funeral began down the street in front of me. Car after car after car, they just kept coming, forcing me to simply sit down on the curb and wait 15 minutes before returning to the hotel that 10 hours earlier looked like the poshest party in the northwest. Now, it looked like the place you wake up wondering how the hell you got there and where’s my car? One by one, the guys started making their way out into the morning air, looking much like I did. Unshowered, hung over and needing to hit the hair of the dog in short order. Brent and Trevor and I started with the worst Bloody Mary’s ever produced, which turned into 9 am Red bull and Vodka as the sun began warming up the courtyard we were content to take over. As a group, we were supposed to be on our way to play some Paintball at 10 and as the 9 o’clock hour came and went, it was obvious to those actually awake, that there was no paintball to be played this day. Eric made the phone call which left all of us to our own devices. Amazing Banana-Hazelnut Pancakes at the Dougfir. a sweet little restaurant/bar at the hotel.  From there, it was time to venture into the city for some early 80’s video games at the “B-arcade” called Ground Control, where Jake and Jen and friends ended up the night before. There’s something about playing games like Double Dragon and Paperboy on old stand up arcade boxes and drinking PBR. It worked for us Friday night, so we figured we might as well doo it again. Jake had also left his credit card there the night before so there was even more reason to go. Who am I kidding though, why give any reason to sit down and play video games from our younger days, none needed. Alec, Jake, Forbes, Tre and I played game after game for an hour or so before stumbling back into what turned out to be an amazingly beautiful day in March. A few of us headed back to the hotel, and after a mile of walking in the warmth of the sun, I needed to finally take a shower and get a nap in before the day became evening and dinner and debauchery would ensue.

Dinner reservations for 20 at Henry's 12th Street Tavern at 8:00, became 8:45 before we were seated in the furthest room from the rest of the patron’s. And for good reason, we were in full celebration mode, celebrating what we all believe is the perfect union of two amazing human beings. Round after round, toast after toast, the night was in full swing and only getting warmer as the nights air temperature dropped. Although we cabbed it to the restaurant, we hoofed it a half mile or so the grand opening of the Beauty Bar, in the now famous Pearl District. Again, another bar with elbow to elbow hipsters, a DJ playing upstairs old school funk and R&B which felt much more like the soundtrack to a Quentin Tarantino movie. Literally, at one point in the evening while looking down from the balcony at the people below, I thought at any moment, Uma Thurman was going to walk in with a samurai sword and start chopping people down. It was yet another hipster scene that I didn’t feel hip enough to participate in, despite the brand new all black suit. We eventually made our way back to the street after a few more cocktails, and headed back to hotel. What we found there, was another evening of “party down” at the Jupiter, all the guys fully enjoying the views and the beverages and the comradery of simply hanging out. Another fantastic evening.

11:00 am Sunday morning, I was finally able to sleep beyond my internal alarm clock! Must have been that last couple pints of Guinness and the 4 am crash out. I didn’t care, the hangover was in full effect and the shower helped me wash off most of the previous evenings bar stamps. The guys were all gathered up near the lobby checking out and cashing out, thus signaling the end of our weekend journey. Of course, there was still the 3 hour drive home, this time with less enthusiasm than the drive 36 hours earlier. As far as I know, everyone made it home safe and sound. I got back early enough to start working on my motorcycle and getting it ready to roll through the summer.

I spent a lot of time thinking about my journey, how I’ve come to where I am. The people along the way, the challenges, the set backs, the victories, the wins and the losses, the mistakes, the lessons learned, the horses I got back up on and the ones I never thought twice about. Along each of our journeys, there’s a mile marker at which we have to take stock of the past, embrace the present and make plans for the future. I have missed a few of the mile markers along the way, forgotten about people that picked me up on their backs and have carried me in their hearts. I forgot to embrace them while they were there and missed them when they were gone. This weekend was a tremendous reminder of that. It took me too many years to get back to a mile marker that I got to embrace for only an evening and I can’t wait to return to it soon; to remember, to share and make plans. Lifelong friends are good for the soul, the heart and the smiles. I know there’s so much more I could talk about right now and expand on, but it’s a good time for all of us to pause and introspectively look at our own journeys and make some turns to a missed marker out there. If nothing more than to share a smile.

Stay Blessed-

 

An Irish Blessing:

May you have the hindsight to know where you've been
the foresight to know where you're going
and the insight to know when you're going too far

I’m back, and better than ever

So I’ve taken a 3 month hiatus from writing here, and apparently, it’s upset a few people. I’ve received a couple emails here and there inquiring about my status, my health, sanity and if I still had a heartbeat. Some wondering if I’d gone blind or been debilitated from use of my hands, rendering me useless at a keyboard. Others assumed I’d found some new love and didn’t have anything to cry and pout about. The answer, honestly, is that I didn’t think anyone really would miss these rants, these diarrhea thoughts spewed out of me onto the canvas of the internet for anyone to read. I was personally getting a bit tired of feeling like I was dragging my own ass through a sea of negative thinking and emotion and had to take twenty steps back and reassess what it was I was doing. To be sure, I was consistently setting myself up for failure, walking over emotional landmine after landmine, knowing that as cathartic as it seemed at the moment, was only prolonging the same feelings of despair and depression. At the same time, I was allowing anyone who clicked a link to follow me right into it. It got to a pathetic point, where I was spending more time talking about my self-induced misery, then looking for a way out of it. I guess everyone does that to a point, dwell in pity, sift through misery, drown in their sorrows. I was just really good at doing it consistently. Yes, there were times and days where it made a difference to me, made me feel somewhat better, in that moment. But that relief would fade, and it would start all over, again and again and time again. It wasn’t until I stopped writing here, that I forced myself to simply be human and deal. By dealing, it was coming to the realization that I wasn’t happy. Happy being me, happy being a son, a father, a friend, a person. That might have been the toughest challenge I’ve faced in my life, tougher than the loss of a love, tougher than losing a best friend. Looking yourself in the mirror and admitting that there was nothing you like about being you. It sucked, it was dark and scary and ugly, and had no place for anyone but me to analyze, internalize and begin restoring. So that’s what I’ve been busy doing, falling in love, with being me. It sounds very weird to say, even more so to read in print, but it’s been the best thing to happen to me, at a time when it mattered the most.

I can say that I’ve always depended on other things or people to find happiness. I’ve walked through life allowing other people to set my mood, allow me to feel a certain way about me, or them, or life in general. It’s been the antithesis of my life. I’m finally at a realization that, and I’ve said it before (but never embraced), that I have to be the one that determines my happiness. I have to be in love with me before I can love anyone else the way I want to love. It took a long time for me to finally pinpoint all of this and thus began that last 3 months of work on me; loving me through eating better, working out consistently, attending some parenting classes to learn how to be a better father, renewed passion for the guitar (and actually making time to practice), renewing old friendships and embracing the time spent with people, making actual plans to go somewhere for no reason other than to go, planning a vacation, putting away money for that rainy day. It’s been a renewal, and to most people, you’re laughing at this seemingly mundane list, but it has honestly been the difference between the guy who needed things and people to be happy, and this guy, who honestly loves being him (or me).  So I’m back, back to being awesome in my own skin, stoked to be me. This morning I actually looked in the mirror, after finally getting ready to leave for the office, and was stoked to see the confident well dressed young man ready to take over the world looking back at me in the mirror. Can you say that today? I really hope so, I want my friends and readers to be stoked, to be the best you, you can be. I know that I still have a ways to go to hit that point where nothing bothers me, my feelings can be a little less traversable to impact in the face of commentary not meant to be personal, all without the help of chemistry. The bottom line today is, I’m stoked on being me; as a father, a son, a friend, a person.

Stay Blessed-