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-

Transient Dream

It's a slippery slope, getting beyond what's right in front of us to move on with our lives. I've been fairly irrational, and very rational, over the past few days and weeks. For whatever reason, holidays pull me down, get me down. I know it has everything to do with family, or my lack there of, here in Washington. Having thought I was so close to finalizing the boyhood dream of romance and marriage, and having it vanish as quickly as it developed, didn't make a family holiday feel any better. That was a turning point for me in the past week, where the irrational and rational decided to contend for space inside my head and heart. It drug me through some rather dark and scary places of thought, only to allow me time to pause and ask WTF was I thinking. Why would I make myself so miserable, knowing damn well I had control over how I felt? There was clarity in the heartache fog I was suffocating in. It took me completely breaking down on Sunday, letting it all out, unleashing all of what had been eating me up. It needed to happen, at least for me it did. It was such a selfish moment of weakness, unloading on Jamie, and unfortunately, witnessed by my son. I don't think he's ever seen me cry or hurt, and I've done a bang up job to make sure he never had to see any of this. In fact, I had no intention of having the conversation that occured, less have him see any of it, but it happened. I think that hurt worse, seeing his concern for his crumbling father and looking to mom to make it better. It sucks, it truly sucks that he ever had to see any of it, hear any of it. In hind site, I'd change that morning in a heartbeat, which of course cannot be undone. It's my job, as it has been since he took his first breath of life, to protect him and teach him and help him develop into a better man than me. That's all of our jobs as parents, whether we like it or not, accept it or not, it's our responsibility and I feel like I failed him in that moment. I've always told him that he should always treat his mommy like a queen, "she's the only one you get, and she's more important that anything else in the world". I've done everything to reinforce that for him, until I yelled and cried and broke down. I'm upset it happened, truly, and I know this may seem like some type of apology, it's merely me pouring out the frustrations of being a single parent dealing with life and admitting to being very very wrong. We all do it, or have done it, to someone we didn't mean to, and felt stupid or ashamed about it later. Maybe this is more of my own reminder to start pausing more, I know that it will never happen again.

So the slippery slope, the one where I feel like I'm at the pinnacle of, is approaching a point of no return. I've been thinking of getting out of the south end for some time now, needing to be closer to my friends and work and people who know and love me. I've been reluctant to make any kind of change due to the impact it would cause on Jackson and Jamie both. I'm not willing to give up any time with my son, that comes first and foremost. I don't expect to hear any parent ever willing to do that, just as I don't expect Jamie to give up any time with him. She's made that point very clear. I'm left with very little wiggle room and in the center is my son. The house we bought together can't be sold any time soon due to this current market, which means she cannot move. We've both stated that putting him in two different day cares isn't an option from a stability standpoint, and moving his daycare, somewhere closer to the east side, would mean taking time away from her, which I'd never want for either of them. Thus begins another defensive and emotional struggle. Of course I want what is best for him, we both do, and we both agree on the same principals in that. My only choice is to remain in the south end, with this ridiculous commute to work and friends and everything I know that isn't her. There's another choice, one that doesn't make sense for anyone, which is the court system, in which I know will only further muddy the water that can barely be swam in as it is. I don't want, or desire, to walk that line, battling for something that cannot be won or lost. I'm in a lose/lose situation right now and more than ever do I need that group of people nearest to me, checking in on me, looking over me. I need counsel, someone to calm me down when I'm about to lose it. It is much harder than I ever thought it would be, being in this storm, looking for calm, and being lost, without the options that make it right for everyone. I know now, and probably have known, that there is no going back to what once felt like home. There won't be any reconciliation, just a struggle to be adults and keep emotion out of the decisions.

That means I'm staying put in the south end longer than I thought I would, but for the love of my son, I'd do anything. He's the reason, the only reason, I will put away the "wants" with those thoughts of yesterday and move forward away from the slippery slope. Might have to tip toe a bit

Packing up these boxes
Memories of another day
Holding onto something
That just won't go away
Maybe it's tomorrow
That you'll come back to stay
We'll never know

Stay blessed-

Walking

It’s been a little bit since I’ve posted anything. There’s many reasons for this, mainly just finding time to ensure I am expressing things with the attention that I feel they deserve, rather than sit down and spew out a bunch of shit just for the sake of posting something. I’ve actually been swamped in the business end, and the free time away from work has been spent trying to be an awesome dad and friend. I have been fortunate enough to spend countless hours building multitudes of various train tracks and configurations with my two year old. I never had a train track growing up, or at least I don’t remember one, and I don’t remember really wanting one, but I’m finding that for whatever reason watching a train go around and around and around, is actually a lot of fun. Or possibly, it’s watching the look of amazement on my son’s face as he uses the remote control to determine the direction of movement, and loading up a single engine with every possible cargo container, to see just how far he can push it’s abilities before it can’t make it up Timber Mountain. It’s pretty funny, he’s now repeating me as he loads them up, “It’s too much” he tells me as he makes the attempt on the plastic tracks, up the mountain pass. When it doesn’t make it, he pulls off a cargo car, resets the trains and tries again. I swear I can see the light bulb go on from time to time. Once he’s off to bed, or with his mother, I’ve been holding on tight to my guitars and actual pen and paper, writing new music and simply just practicing my new found love of the guitar. I often wish I would have learned to play many many years ago, as the level of suck in my abilities would definitely be much lower. As well, the song writing process would go so much faster. None the less, I’m enjoying making music on my own, even if it’s rough and will need some polishing. That’s what my brother is for, right? I’ve also put a lot of attention into the book project, busting out another 50 pages in the last week and feeling like once I have the bulk of the timeline together, I can start picking and choosing and start rewrites. As long as I can keep the same passion and fervor in the words as I felt in the living of it all, I might actually have something to be proud of. Then it’ll be up to someone else to decide if it’s print worthy. No qualms from me there, it is what it is, right?

It’s actually been so long since I’ve posted, that I actually had to go back and look at my last piece just to remind me where I left off. Considering it was after my hell trip home from Dallas, there’s a lot that’s gone on personally. And as with every choice I make, there are consequences, some of which I accept wholly. There’s been some other interactions that I didn’t know what to feel or have any clue exactly how I’d feel until the inevitable “feeling” that took place following. I should explain, and never leave things here as vague as I am right now. I just am still battling in my head and heart with myself, not to mention, anyone that has been involved in said feelings. See, there are things I don’t spew out, mainly in an effort to shield others who don’t want their laundry aired across the interweb for anyone and everyone to read. And as much as my writing isn’t about them, it’s only fair to ensure their anonymity. That being said, my head is everywhere it probably should be staying away from for my own good, and potentially theirs. I think about so many different possibilities, so many different roads I could be traveling, and they all come to an abrupt halt when I consider what would be in my rearview mirror, and yeah, I’m still struggling with that. This tree of mine has so many roots tangled up in the past that as I cut them, one by one, piece by piece, the dying leaves are covering the choices I may need to travel. Each branch leaving another scar. I feel blinded, yet so aware of the impending pain I’m going to cause, to me and to that future out of arms reach. No matter which road I take, someone is getting hurt, and although the degrees of that pain will vary, it’s not any easier, and it’s not clear to me which path is the right one. I’ve never been a calculating person when it comes to my heart, I’ve always let it develop as it happens. Sure, I’ve put up walls and guarded what I could, held onto ideals and counter argued each passionate choice, but rarely let logic interfere with what the heart has lobbied for. The landscape has changed a lot for me since the times I could allow such a bold spirited campaign run frivolously, it’s more serious now. There’s hearts at stake, and not just mine. There’s someone else’s to consider, and how any road will jell with theirs impacts the most important life I have to protect and teach. Every choice has a consequence and at some point they have to be made, acted upon, lived out. It just doesn’t feel like any time may be the right time, sense of urgency doesn’t exist for me right now. Some will argue that you can’t fight what is to be, and they may be right. It’s just going to be my foot on the accelerator and my hands on the wheel determining where I drive, in my time. Maybe I miss out on something, or everything, so be it. This is the most rational me I’ve seen looking back in the mirror in many many years. Good things come to those who wait, right? Yes, I’m summing things up with a ketchup catch-phrase.

Found a new band I’m digging yesterday, completely by accident. While I was tripping through other band pages looking at tour dates and trying to check things off my unwritten bucket list, I found Lo-Pro. A newer band signed to Aaron Lewis's label. Check them out.

Today is Thankgiving, 2009. Many people know how I feel about this "holiday" in general, and I'll keep my feelings about this PR coverup to myself and sinply say, Happy Thanksgiving to you. I hope you find yourself surrounded by people who know you and love you and are thankful that you are in their lives. I wish nothing but the best for you and if you're reading this, I am thankful for that. This day always makes me stop and think about the blessings that I have in my own life. Today, however, doesn't really feel like that though. I'm struggling today, honestly struggling, to keep my feet on the ground and the tears out of my eyes. As I mentioned earlier in this post, the hurt I'm causing myself is out of my control as I miss so many things that are making it hard to breathe and even pretend to be happy. It's much harder than that, more complicated, less thankful and more painful. I'm unraveled today, coming apart at every seam, and so I'm sitting here, writting to you in an effort to purge this unease, this discontent, this whatever it is that's come over me today. I might just go back to bed and be thankful I have one to go to.

Stay Blessed-

This isn't a hotel

It's been an interesting week since my last post. So much has happened that I think if I tried to comment on all of it, this post might be completed a week from now. I guess I'll start with the last of my trip to Dallas, which from the business perspective, was fairly mundane and not needed, but from a personal perspective, allowed me to reconnect with an old friend, who honestly, made me miss being a kid. I never thought I'd want to relive the years of careless frivolty and recklessness that we lived in from 5th grade forward. I mean, it was fun and we found our fair share of trouble, but the grinding through to be an adult and to find our own ways in the world, took a lot, and I don't think I'd ever want to start over. Sharing the stories of those days and laughing about the nonsense though, made me think about the fun under the stars in McCall, Idaho. There was a night, when about 8 of us spent the summer as 'work crew' at a church camp, where we stole the camp boat to go water skiing under the moonlight on the Payette Lake. This wasn't just a boat, this was a 19 foot Ski Natique, on loan to the camp, probably worth about 45k, and we were 15 or 16 years old. Insanity to me now looking back, awesome and exciting back then. Not to mention dangerous. I wonder how many close calls with death and dismemberment we really did have back then? Jeeze, as a father of a son who, by all things inherent, will probably be doing the same type of things in 13-14 years, I'm scared, but if I never know about it, I'll be fine with that. As a 32 year old son, I hope this doesn't scare the crap out of my parents.

Anyway, hanging out with Emily and her husband Scott, was hands down, the best part of my trip, minus the ensuing hangover the following morning. Wednesday night, the three of us headed out to dinner. This time with very clear directions and prior knowledge of the restaraunt. We hit Sushi Axiom and it was fantastic. I'll be honest, I even asked our waiter where they get their maguro prior to ordering it. I was nervous that we might be sitting down for some Gulf of Mexico, fuel tanker bred tuna. He ensured me that they fly it in every two days and I wouldn't notice the difference between Seattle and Dallas sushi. He also kept refilling my sak'e glass every 5 minutes. He was right, after 2 or 3 large sak'es, I had no idea where we were eating at, and the rolls were pretty awesome! Follow that with a world famous, fairly metro, espresso martini, and we were well on our way to needing our designated driver(Scott) to provide us safe passage. Of course, not until after we headed across the street to a bar for a few pints and car bombs.

Ah, the Irish Carbomb. Pour a shot of Jameson topped with Baileys and drop it into a half a pint of Guinness and pound it. It's a wonderful drink normally, especially after a few pints. Probably even better if you don't share a few tall pitchers of sak'e and a martini first. This might have been the turning point of my night out drinking, and sadly, I think it was my idea to have the carbombs. It was after 1:00 am when we decided we'd had enough, and we walked out into the torrential rain that was decending upon Dallas. Thank God almighty for the wonderful Scott driving me back to my hotel. Said our goodbyes, made plans for another get together at a later date(Still TBD) and then I woke up. Foggy eyes, tv on, heartburn, lights on, 5:30 am, dressed still... hotel bed. I don't recall walking through the hotel, or turning on the television, or even lying down. Somehow I managed to plug in my phone. Let the hangover begin...

Based on my waking state, and the uncertainty of my sobriety (unintentional rhyme), I decided my best bet was to hit the shower and work from my hotel that morning. I would be out of the hotel by 11:30 and grabbing some food and hitting the airport to leave on a 2:30 pm flight back to Seattle. Checked in the sweet rental car, blacked out Toyota Carolla, and jumped on the shuttle to the airport baggage check in. Paid Continental airlines twenty bucks to allow my bag a spot under the plane, flight status showed "on time" and made my way to security. 12:45 pm and all is right in the world, breezed through security with my laptop and headed to the gate. Flight still listed as on time, heading to Houston, quick layover and a 4:30 pm flight to Seattle. 1:15 pm and the passengers on the 1:30 still sitting outside the gate waiting to board their flight, still listed as "on time", until the board above the agent changes, the 1:30 is now scheduled for 2:00 pm departure, pushing my flight out 30 min. No big deal, my hour layover in Houston just getting shortened by 30 min on the connection. Headphones on, magazine in hand, found a seat close to a plug-in on the wall to charge the phone. 2:30 pm passengers from the 1:30 begin boarding the delayed 2:00 pm flight, now leaving at 3:00...panic starts to set in as I realize my flight isn't leaving at 3:00, our plane isn't even here. I scuried with a magazine and boarding pass in one hand, laptop bag in the other, to the Continental counter to see the gate agent about getting on the 1:30 flight. He gets me on, sends me down the boarding tunnel and as I'm almost to the entrance of the plane, I'm turned back because the plane is "over weight"! SO CLOSE

This back and forth let down continued through to 11:10 pm when I finally got on a plane bound for Houston, 11 hours in the Dallas airport. By 12:45 am Friday, I got into Houston with no hope for a flight home to Seattle until 7:40 am. I did what I could to get comfortable in an airport full of distressed travelers, looking for a somfy spot to close my eyes and hold tight to my laptop. In all my years of travel, I've never spent a night in an airport and I don't think I'll be signing up for it any time soon. It sucked and every single airport store was closed, no coffee, no muffins or magazines. Every single row of chairs had an armrest in between each seat, so there was no spreading out across them, and the one semi-out of the way carpeted place I found to lie down was covered in dirrty hippies who were snoring up a storm with their shoes off. I was miserable. I never actually went to sleep. Airports weren't designed to be hotels after all.

By noon Friday I was pulling into the house to scoop up my puppies, tired and still feeling hungover, and headed back to my place. I washed the stank of 28 some odd hours of travel off and went about some work. Just another day in the life of Ryan, and one, or 2, I won't be repeating any time soon. Yes, I'm cutting this short and leaving out all sorts of other mundane details to spare this post from being looked over entirely by those of you that preview the length and might come back to it later. I have, however, in all of the jockeying for a plane ride, gotten some good work done on the book. I'm still working on a title and am so open to suggestions. Give me some witty nonsensical ideas.

Stay blessed-

Tejas can really suck…

First night in Dallas was a wash, literally. About 9:30 local time, a flash flood warning started crawling across every local television channel. By 10:00 pm the lightning was crackling and the thunder was shaking the hotel walls. I opened up the sliding glass door to take a look and it was dumping rain, I mean downpour. Loud and cold, the storm kept up well into this morning when I got out of bed around 6:15. Lightning still lighting up the morning sky. It was pretty wild, welcome to Texas right? Monday morning feels like Seattle in the early spring, 56 degrees and misty rain with dark dark clouds. And along with the weather comes the tired that ensues from every west coast eastbound travel. The time difference… even though I attempted to be in bed at my regular west coast hour, the morning came earlier than desired as the 6ish here is really 4ish at home, so I’m pooped, dog tired, jet lagged, and well honestly, home sick. Right??? I’ve been gone 24 hours and already wish I was on my own little couch in my little apartment with my friends and dogs and my kiddo. Maybe it’s just the state of mind, I’m not really all here and well, I hope I can find the rest of me soon. Business travel needs to focus on business, and not my blog or the personal sides of my life.

Two bad cups of black coffee from the 2nd floor cafeteria and it’s on. It’s been a fairly busy morning in the Dallas office. Meeting people, shaking hands, having their day to day work dissected in white boards and documentation. It’s all pretty boring and I’m having a hard time staying focused. It’s not that it isn’t interesting, it’s just not something I haven’t seen before, or helped develop in a former business life. Nothing eye opening or even worth my trip out here. Aside from making an attempt to catch up with an old friend here in Texas, I probably could have done this from anywhere, preferably my living room. Day ended a little earlier than I had previously thought it would, my peer here in Dallas bailed about 3:30 thanks to the onset of flu like symptoms. Of course, no one wants to think it may be swine flu, but with it going around like crazy, I wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. Back to the hotel by 5:00 pm and made arrangements with my friend I hadn’t seen in at least 15 years, to meet up for dinner with her and her husband Scott.

By 6:20 pm we were off to dinner, in the rain and bad GPS directions on her Blackberry. Drove for what felt like 30 minutes through various parts of Dallas that had all 3 of us thinking this was probably not the best part of town to be stopping for a meal. We passed taqueria after taqueria (Spanish for ‘Taco Shop’) looking for a restaurant to sit down and catch up. Street after street, the deeper we got into this area of Dallas, the more uncomfortable we all began feeling. Of course, we laughed it off, not wanting each other to know that we knew, this was all wrong. After a couple of turns and heading back towards the freeway, we stumbled upon a restaurant that was just like the one we had originally intended on heading to. Finally, 50 minutes into our tour of what I would call “all of the places in Dallas to not drive a Saab and be white in” we were walking into dinner.

Had an awesome meal, consisting of my consistent Mexican order of Pollo enchiladas en mole, a tamales and 3 bottles of Pacifico. The food was outstanding, probably because of the 3 pints I had with it, but the conversation was even better. I’ve known Emily for most of my life. And like she said at one point in the evening, and I concur, “I don’t remember a time not knowing you”. We probably haven’t seen each other since early on in high school, so it’s been at least 15 years. We had a lot of catching up to do. Time is an interesting thing, and friendship is one of those wonderful parts of life that is not eclipsed by it. Although it had been more than a decade since we last laughed with one another, you would never have known it. The time a part was like a blink of the eye, with a whole lot of living in between. We shared as many stories as we could of where we’d been and done and reminisced about times we’d had growing up at church camp and hanging out. After about 2 hours of laughing our asses off and full of food and adult beverages, I asked for the check with every intention of picking up this tab we had. I snuck my credit card to the waitress before she could even present the bill, as Emily attempted to do the same. Our waitress spun back to the register before Emily could even get a word out, preventing her attempt to do exactly what I had planned. We laughed about it for a few moments before the waitress returned to my table to hand me my card and in a very serious, and not so pleasant voice said “it’s declined”. She put her hands on her hips and looked me in the face as I asked her to say that again. “It’s declined”, she said again, and in shock and embarrassment I quickly reached for my iPhone to log into my bank account and see what the heck was going on. Meanwhile, Emily yells out “Perfect” and with a huge smile hands the waitress her card. Exactly what I expected to see on my banks website, plenty of money in both of my accounts, I turned my card over and began dialing the customer service number. The conversation with the banker on the phone took about 10 minutes as they recounted every charge in the last 3 days and explained my card was flagged for fraud due to the 2 bad cups of $1.62 coffee I had purchased from the 2nd floor cafeteria earlier that day. Apparently, small out of state purchases within hours of each other raises a red flag. Of course, there was no call directly to me to ask if I was traveling but you would assume that before shutting off my card, they would have seen the hotel, the rental car, the other charges that should tip off any “fraud specialist” that I was traveling! Of course, I mentioned this to the “banker” on the phone as recounted each of the previous 3 days worth of charges, including my hotel, my rental car, my baggage charge with Continental. “ Seriously”, I said to him, “doesn’t that list of charges pretty much tell you that I’m out of town??” He apologized and got me back up and running. I was fairly annoyed that I couldn’t pay for dinner, and convinced Emily and Scott that we needed to go somewhere else for drinks, my treat.

Rather than continuing our tour of “places not to be driving a Saab and be white” we headed back to my hotel bar to watch the rest of the Monday Night Football game and have some more beverages. After a couple drinks and some very entertaining college football discussion (which almost led to a brawl thanks to my Boise State sweatshirt and a redneck Florida fan), we said goodnight and they headed home. Isn’t friendship amazing at times? I’m reminded how blessed my life has been to have people in it, that no matter time or distance, there are certain people who find their way back to us, and it’s the same as it ever was. Awesome. I’ve commented many times how there are few things left in life that amaze us, or me, and this is specifically as case of one of them. I hope that this friendship continues without the years of contact but am sure if it is 10 plus years until the next time, the next time will be as awesome as this time was. To Scott and Emily, thanks for dinner and the tour of bad Dallas! Even more so, for simply being awesome. Here’s to next time!

Guess this trip isn’t really a total wash after all…

Stay Blessed-

Post script-
Started this post on Monday morning only to complete it now, Tuesday 1:00 pm Central Time

Chicken Little for Dinner

It’s been quite a productive week on the work front and in the life of Ryan. Even this morning, before I left the house at a quarter past six, I was able to download the new ‘Dead by Sunrise’ album, get it onto my iPhone, take the dogs out for a very wet and rainy potty, check the bank account, transfer some money between accounts, pay some bills and get the kid up and ready for the day. By 6:35 I had Jackson checked into day care, dry cleaning dropped off and picked up and hitting the freeway with my 16 oz. Quad White Hot Skinny Mocha in hand, rocking out in gridlocked traffic on I-5. It still to this day, amazes me how shitty Seattle drivers are when the rain comes, as if it’s something new to them. Thousands of stupid Chicken Little’s worried that “the sky is falling” as raindrops land on their windshields forcing them to pump the breaks as they grope for the wiper controls in the darkness of their cars interior. It’s asinine and if you happen to be one of those asssholes that can’t figure it out, please, do those of us that are well schooled on the task of driving a vehicle in every weather condition a favor; STAY OFF THE FREEWAY! Seriously, why must you bring your fear of falling rain in the darkness directly in front of my commute. It’s not as if I really want to be  into the office on a Friday later than I have to be. Your fears are only prolonging the length of my day and my level of patience is at a bare minimum at that hour of the morning.

Now that that is out of the way, I will step off of my road rage soap-box and get back to the business at hand, me. Like I said, it’s been a pretty fast week all the way around between personal and business. A lot of conversation; good, bad and otherwise indifferent. Even when it seems to be going good, there’s an underlying feeling of unease and restlessness that seems to make time stand still in certain moments. Moments in which the uncertainty of tomorrow seems to be more apparent than ever and there’s an excitement, and a fear, to discover what really lies in the road ahead. In some aspects, the unknown can be pretty cool, nothing left to be predictable. Something new. Someone new. Something different. Someone different. Like Christmas morning all the time, you never know exactly what’s in the box behind the pretty wrapping paper and bows, and there’s so much excitement and sleeplessness that goes into waiting ‘til morning to tear the first part of the paper at the end and seeing exactly what you got. The fear comes when the package is wide open and exposed and it’s not what you thought it would be. After all the days and nights of staring at it under the tree, guessing at what it could be, after all the nights of laying in bed tossing and turning as you think about what could be behind that pretty paper, finding out it’s not really what you wanted and there’s no way you’ll make room in your space to fit in this new gift. I just don’t want to be let down anymore by my imagination, I’ve put too many years down the drain recently, and I don’t want to live that life again. I also don’t want to miss opening the right present. All in all that means opening a few and seeing what’s what. Problem there is it requires effort and time and untangling myself from all that I’m still entrenched in. Maybe one of the boxes will have some landscaping shears or a chainsaw. Yes, that is figurative

Heading to Dallas in a couple of days and there’s a lot to be done before I can head out. The list is long and probably not as time consuming as it looks in my hand. Jackson’s  mom is throwing a Halloween party for a bunch of kids on Saturday and my presence has been welcomed. I have very mixed emotions about being ‘invited’ to attend a party in my own home, the one I helped find, work on, live in and formed memories and began raising a child in. It makes me angry and sad that I’m ‘invited’, as if I’m a guest. It’s my house, my home, regardless if I currently live there or not and at the same time, it’s no longer my home or my house to claim. It hurts either way I look at it, being there or not being there, invited or not. I suppose I’d be as pissed if I wasn’t asked to attend, as hurt, maybe more embarrassed than I already feel. I don’t know if I’ll be there or not, it might be too hard and I also might miss out on some awesome fun times with my son if I don’t. I’m frustrated. I’m overwhelmed. Quite honestly, I’m just so tired of feeling ok, almost rad, for a few days and then feeling like someone just gave me a quick kick to the nuts. I’m also very tired of feeling like a whiner, it could always be worse.

A very good friend of mine is going through a similar separation, but one in which the child, who has been her heart and soul since birth, may be taken from her side unless she caves in, to reconcile a situation that will no doubt be worse for her, and her son, in the long run. She mentioned feeling “selfish” for not trying to work it out in fear that she’s “ruining her sons life” by stepping away from the toxic relationship she’s in. I know firsthand that parents that fight and bicker and aren’t in love with one another, don’t create the best environment for raising a child. I’ve been living it, I would know.  I mention this only because in the middle of me trying to discover the “why’s” in my own life, I’ve seen an even darker reality for someone I truly care for and want to do everything I can to help. In some weird twilight zone reality, my experiences are allowing me to give council in what really is a horribly difficult situation for her. Guess there’s a bright side to every cloud. Keep her in your own prayers as a mother who’s making an awfully tough decision, it really does suck. She’s in mine hourly.

So there it is, it’s taken me 4 hours to write this much in between solution design sessions, strategy and code development. It’s been a rough day and I am trying to bow out early. Working remote the rest of the day, after I make a stop at the Seattle Home Show and the Rack.

Stay blessed-

Le Cadeau

Winter is slowly waltzing into October, despite every attempt the sun has been making to delay it. Even global warming can’t stop my windows from being covered in a layer of frost as I walked out to my truck before the sun was up this morning. I hate the cold, the season, the dying of leaves from the trees and the migration of water fowl to warmer climates. Of course, I do enjoy the smells that autumn brings and the slight nip in the air that makes the fireplace a welcome location in my living room. The leaves turning from green to red. The extra heavy sweater that made its way to the back of my closet rotation during the summer. I do find some enjoyment in the changing of the seasons. I am however, starting to spend some time thinking through the upcoming dilemma I have to face around the holidays. As if single parenthood wasn’t challenging enough from a day to day operational standpoint, figuring out the where’s and who’s for Christmas is giving me an ulcer.

For as long as I can remember, my family has always made Christmas a special time. From my earliest memories of having someone in a Santa suit showing up with a bag full of Hot Wheels to those early morning hours where my brother and I would start singing at the top of our lungs around 5 am, to wake my parents up so we could start opening presents, Christmas has always been about family and being together. In 32 years, there’s been only 2 Christmas mornings when I wasn’t present with my parents. This is where my struggle begins, as this being Jackson’s third Christmas of his life, I want him to have the same fond memories each and every year and begin building the same traditions that my mom and dad built for us kids. As I see it right now, that’s not a possibility in the same way it was mine. I know I’m not the only single parent in the world that has had to face down this dilemma, and I also know that Christmas gatherings aren’t the same for every family. For mine, it’s a big deal, and I want it to always be a big deal for Jackson. Maybe I’m selfish, but I can’t imagine ever having a Christmas morning without him, and I’m struggling with him ever having a Christmas morning without his parents, either of us, both of us. His mom is very understanding of this at this time in his life and fully expects that he and I will be traveling to Idaho for Christmas with my family, which is more than awesome. She didn’t have the same type of big deal that I have had and she wants him to have the type of memories that I’ve had with my family, this year. It’s a gift she’s giving me, and gave to me just over two years ago, whether she knows it or not. Undoubtedly though, there will be the conversation at some point a year from now, where she’ll want to be with him for that Christmas, leaving me without him next year and I cannot begin to explain the anxiety that immediately hits me in the chest. Well over a year from now and I’m already melancholy about the scenario. Can I repay the same gift?

Maybe that means I am as selfish as I think I am about my son and the experiences we share together. Maybe it really is a truth that I cannot face, the holding onto my ideal vision of what family really should be. Reality isn’t as cool as I want it to be and less than ideal. Why is it this way? Why can’t I just allow this to be what it is, two parents with equal moments of parenthood, equal desires for themselves and their child, separate? He deserves that, as do we, and yet, I don’t want to miss a thing, and I don’t want her to miss anything. Again, I know we’re not the only parents in the world who deal with this and there will be those of you that tell me it’ll all work itself out, it’s just a part of life. Well friends, it’s not the parts that I signed up for, it’s not the reality that I asked for, but it is what was dealt to me. So I will deal with it, as will they. We get to, not have to, get to. It’s something my old therapist used to explain to me time and time again. We don’t “have” to do anything, we “get” to. You don’t have to do laundry, you are fortunate enough to get to have laundry to do. I wasn’t a subscriber to the thought process for a long time, it took some serious coaching to get me there. One day it just sank in and I’m thankful it did, made these predicaments much easier to “get” to deal with. I don’t want to though and that is an entirely different mindset. I don’t do things I don’t want to do but do things that are less than ideal for the sake of my son, and his mother. It doesn’t make it easier and it doesn’t take away my distress or pain or emptiness. Yes, I guess I am selfish.

Started learning “The Gift” last night in my weekly guitar lesson. The lyric of the song is haunting and so personally close to me that I’m always amazed that someone else found the words that fit before I could put pen to paper. Don’t read too much into this as I swear I’m doing ok. The side of me that thinks like this isn’t running the show, but can be found from time to time, late at night, alone, thinking in the dark. Shaun Morgan just has a way of peering into my head and heart, way too often it seems. If you don’t own a ‘Seether’ album, go get one… “One Cold Night” is a great starting point…

Hold me now I need to feel relief
Like I never wanted anything
I suppose I'll let this go and find a reason I'll hold on to
I'm so ashamed of defeat
And I'm out of reason to believe in me
I'm out of trying to get by

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
I'm right on the wrong side of it all

I can't face myself when I wake up
And look inside a mirror
I'm so ashamed of that thing
I suppose I'll let it go
'till I have something more to say for me
I'm so afraid of defeat
And I'm out of reason to believe in me
I'm out of trying to defy

I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
I'm right on the wrong side of it all

Hold me now I need to feel complete
Like I matter to the one I need
I'm so afraid of the gift you give me
I don't belong here and I'm not well
I'm so ashamed of the lie I'm living
I'm right on the wrong side of it all
Now I'm ashamed of this
I Am So Ashamed Of This
Now I'm so ashamed of me
I Am So Ashamed Of Me

Stay blessed-

Disconnected Thinking

I’ve spent a lot of time, or what a lot feels like, over the past few days working on my book. Mainly talking through stories and situations of the past 5 years, focused mainly on the last two+ since the beginning of the life of my son. How vivid the details are of the moments leading up to his arrival, and how different the world has been since he’s been in it. Different in the way that it pains me to think what it would be like without him in it and how clearly changed my life is because of him, in it. I’m a better man because of his life in mine, and I don’t make the choices I had made in my past. I am aware however, that I make some of the same internal mistakes, wish for the same wishes that have never come true, and feel myself feel things I didn’t ever want to feel again, and more so, said I wouldn’t. I’m changing, changed, different than I was at 17, 24, 27, and 32.

I’ve also spent the good part of this week battling a cold, brought straight into my house from disease infested daycare and delivered from my poor two year old who has been miserable since Sunday. His cough, and lack of covering his mouth, has been constant along with a runny nose, fever and itchy eyes. Thanks to his neglect in covering his cough, this same flu has entered my body, rendering me fairly useless to write in this blog. My thoughts have been scattered and without point or direction. So, I’ve started and stopped, started and stopped and tonight, finally trying to make a way through some words. I doubt there’s any wisdom to this post, or even insight. It might be a total waste of your time to sit there and read it, but then so is the countless hours spent on Facebook or Youtube . Yes, guilty as charged, I do it too, living vicariously through other peoples status updates, crazy funny video’s and wishing to participate in the festivities that show up in other peoples “mobile uploads” folders. Sometimes not though, after the last few nights photo’s that have popped up, I’m convinced it’s sometimes safer just to stay home, if nothing more than than for my own posterity. Some of you guys are having way too much fun.

Over the weekend, while doing my rounds at my favorite boutique store, Target (pronounced in a French accent Tar’zay) I came across the newest book from one of my favorite authors, Mitch Albom, titled ‘Have a Little Faith’ . If you haven’t read any of his books, I implore you to go pick any of them up. Each and every one of them is literally food for your soul in one form or another. Some will make you cry from the very first page (‘One More Day’) and others will hold you through every page making you thankful for understanding the written word (‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ and ‘The Five People you Meet in Heaven’). None of them have ever disappointed me and each has led me to other insights into my own interpersonal questions.

Two road trips forthcoming, business in Dallas, personal in Boise. I’ve never been a huge fan of Texas outside of Austin, so there’s no super stoked looking forward to my visit feelings going on. I do, however, have an old friend out there that can hopefully meet up for dinner and catch up from nearly 18 years of life’s various roads. In Boise, I get to meet my new niece who was born Wednesday night. She finally got a name this morning, and thanks to the power of text messaging, my sister, still hospitalized, shot me a message with the name ‘Lily Carter Gross’. My three year old niece, Lily’s sister, Chloe, told her mommy that she thinks the name is stupid. Typical three year old response, I’m so interested in knowing what suggestions she made for her baby sisters name. I can’t wait to meet her and welcome her into our ever growing family.

Chloe and Lily

My chest hurts and my fever is still present, and outside of that, I can’t think of much else to say right now. Clearly my thoughts are all over the board and totally incomplete. Much like my status updates that always end with a dot dot dot, there’s always more to the story and yet, I keep it short and sweet. Like today’s posting, maybe there will be more soon…

Stay blessed-

Ms. Dilemma, why you bother me?

So here we are on a Tuesday afternoon and it feels like the week is already half way over. Mostly due to the fact that my calendar is overwhelmingly full of meeting after meeting during the day, and with the daylight fading into dusk earlier and earlier each day, it’s starting to become easier to stay in and do nothing , rather than  something more productive. That’s such a different mindset to me these days than it was ten years ago, being productive.

In the workplace, I’ve always been a workhorse. Usually trying to tackle more than I should at any given time, working more hours than I should have and investing one hundred percent of my passion into my work. It was always so personal to me that when I wasn’t working, I was fine to do nothing more after hours than sit back, watch TV and veg out. Weekends were for partying and living it up, and there must have been more years of me doing just that than there were of this other mindset, feeling like I always have to be getting something done. The plan tonight consists of getting home to my dogs, walking them to keep the 1’s and 2’s with the great outdoors, a guitar lesson followed by a deep douching of my apartment that needs to be vacuumed and dusted and have laundry folded and put away, a kitchen wiped down, a bedroom or two to be picked up and put away, two bathrooms to be cleaned and after all of that is done, maybe I’ll hit the DVR and a pint of Guinness. Maybe, or maybe once it’s all done, I’ll head to the gym, but only if it’s before 9:00 pm or else I won’t be able to sleep before 11 or 12 and that will roll into another full calendar of meeting after meeting on Wednesday.

“Oh dear dilemma, why must you bother me?”

So this weekend is the final chapter in the saga of couch finding and buying. I cannot go another week without a full-on sectional sofa with a chaise lounge, so that I may run from one end of the apartment into the living room for a giant dive into sweet plushness that will hold me and keep me cozy whilst being non-productive! I’ve narrowed it down to three choices and by Friday, I hope to know exactly which of these three beauties will be coming back with me to stay awhile. No, I’m not speaking figuratively, like some of you noticed in a previous post and called me out on, I’m dead set serious about having a full blown couch in my living room. The search has been painful to find something large enough for the room, which typically wouldn’t be a problem for apartment living, but this place is way bigger than any apartment I’ve ever lived in. In fact, it’s living room is bigger than most of my friends condo’s or even homes. For as much as I have agonized and tormented myself in this search, I am almost certain that as soon as I get this bad girl home this weekend and everything is perfect for a few months, my next place won’t be able to accommodate it and I’ll have to look for a space large enough for it to certainly remain part of the landscape of my living room.

“Um, Ms Dilemma, can you take a break for a few weeks?”

Matisyahu made my playlist this morning, and whether or not you like the idea of a Jewish white guy from New York rapping as if he was a Jamaican Dancehall champion, the guy has got a sound that doesn’t allow you to sit still. ‘Live at Stubbs’ is an awesome live album recorded at a giant Texas club/ BBQ Joint a few years ago. My only problem with any of it though is, what is a Hasidic Jew doing in a BBQ in Texas? Isn’t that completely and totally sacrilegious? All jokes aside, it’s a great album that should put you in a good mood or help you wake up on an overly tired Tuesday morning.

Writing in the afternoon of a workday is totally contradictory to productivity, as I am sure some of you were dying to point out. However, I am skipping lunch to provide some comic relief, fascinating insight and wonderful musical taste. The only other question here now is what to make for dinner? and will Ms. Dilemma be joining me? I sure hope not tonight, I have a whole house to pick up before any company can join me. She’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow

Stay Blessed-

Morning Drive

It has been an interesting mark in time in my life, to say the least. Days go by where there's not a care or stress in the world of "Ryan", and there's days where time just doesn't move and memories flood my perception of reality to a point where attempting anything productive is futile. I mention this, only as an underlying theme that more than likely runs true in many peoples lives, not just my own. Although, one could gather from reading this dialogue, that my roller coaster of emotion and living is much more up and down than the normal, average, every day Joe. Maybe it is, or maybe because I choose to acknowledge it publicly, it just seems that way. Regardless, I know positively that I'm not the only one riding this same figurative ride, as much as I wish I were. That's the point though, if I was the the lone rider going up, down, side to side and upside down, you wouldn't read this except to feel better about your own life and find solace with yourself. See, I don't think I'm too far left of center when it comes to struggling with living a life that doesn't meet some idealized expectations that we have created for ourselves.

I was almost there, that idea, that everything I had expected to have in this life was right at my finger tips. I had the girl, the home, the dogs, the yard, the child. All of the "things" that from the time we're born to the day we die, we measure ourselves against, and I was the poster child for people to look at and say "damn, he's got the life". The truth is, I didn't have the life, not the way I pictured it and felt as complete as I should have. It's always easy to think those things are the "end all, be all" of dreams and expectations, and they almost were. At the core of every "thing" there has to be one very simple yet complex addition, one in which, all things being equal, has to be given and received. Love; unending, unwavering, unfettered, unconditional, love. There's no room for the "but's" in love, like "I love my house, but I hate the location", that's not love. That's accepting compromise and I've done it my whole life in an effort to not be let down, to not fail. We've all done it, we've all given way to accept the unacceptable from time to time. It's taken me years to realize that I've done it too often in spite of looking out for myself. I've done it to please other people, other women, friends, family, work. I've done it, because I was never convinced that I would meet my own expectations and truly have the picturesque vision of my dreams. Now, that being said, am I saying that I've finally faced down the problems in my own life and heart? Absolutely not, they are still as problematic today as they were last week or last month or even last year. Am I saying that I realize now that the relationships of the past were all wrong? Not for a second am I saying that. For every relationship that has started and ended, I've grown, learned more about being a man in a world full of assholes and douche bags, and I have spent the time dissecting why they ended. I am somewhat convinced that the line between reality and dreamland is fairly skewed and consistently works against us in relationships. Preconceived expectations aren't as possible as we wish they would be, and by no means should anyone settle on second place. God knows, I'm too damn competitive to have anything but the best, but sometimes what we see or perceive to be the best, is a pipe dream, an oasis in the fathoms of desolation that we think is the promised land. I can tell you first hand, from high school until my mid-twenties, every girl was that oasis, and I loved harder each time and fell harder each time and gave of myself more, each time. All for nothing more than a book full of memories and volumes upon volumes of lessons learned. At one point, I vowed to never go down that road again, never letting anyone close enough to have to go through that emotional roller coaster that I figured would inevitably put me back at the end of the line, to wait for my next ride.

If you asked me five months ago if I was right, I would have most certainly said yes. Yes, I'm back in line; alone and hurt and confused. I would have said everything I actually have said in this blog about it over the last five months, but I wouldn't change a thing. That vow to not get back on was one I'm happy to have broken, one that has provided me the greatest gift in the world and another massive volume of lessons learned with some insight into my head and heart that I possibly never would have known otherwise. I have moments where I wish that I could have skipped the last four plus years in that relationship, as if they'd never happened. I have times where I wish I had never met that certain someone, in hopes to escape the pain I feel today. Those moments, those times however, are nothing more than my internal "easy button" escape pod to avoiding the truth. That truth, that I loved unconditionally and unfettered and it wasn't enough. That truth that showed me first hand what it takes to be an amazing parent despite every challenge put in front of you, the same truth that showed me that I'm stronger than I thought I was and patience, be it a virtue or not, can be learned. It's the same truth, that has reminded me that it takes more than just patience and caring to love, it takes work. I've never thought it didn't require work, in fact I preached that more often than I ever should have had to, but it was worth it.

Although it's ended, over, finished, there will never be a time that I look back and wish that it had never been started in the first place. The spite that I've had fall from my tongue from time to time in a defensive fashion has never been encapsulated with true feelings in completion, except in that moment of weakness and despair with my back against a wall and wanting someone to hurt as bad as I did. Which of course, isn't love, it's anger and bitterness, and yes, I've found room for both inside this broken heart of my mine. This process of grief and coping has allowed certain things into me that I never wanted or needed and thus, I'm purging. Trying to put them out of my being and reaching to get my fingers on the handle of this roller coaster, as it's mine to drive.

My Way Home- Citizen Cope
Sometimes I miss a step
I stumble here and there
I'm findin' my way home
If I'm lost then I'll admit
Sometimes i plain forget
I'm findin' my way home
You can try and stand in my way
You can say what you're gonna say
But I'm finding my way home




Stay blessed-


*Post script-
I've been working on my book and think that this section has
a place, thoughts?*

Une fleur willting dans l'obscurité du soleil

I had a panic attack last night, first time in at least three years. Debilitating and scary, I thought my heart was going to explode from my chest as everything went blurry as I hit the floor. At least twenty minutes went by before I could get up and then I cried for the next two hours, scared to death about what had happened and how to prevent it in the future. That's where the problem is, prevention, and knowing that one is coming on, which in my experience has been next to impossible. I'm even more scared by the situation where my son is present or needing my immediate attention and he finds me on the floor. Last night I couldn't even get to my phone to place a call or send a text off if I had had to. Am I becoming agoraphobic as I seek to find the doorway out of this mental prison my whole being feels trapped in? The first step here is knowing what triggers them and staying away from those trigger points, which at this time, is a blurry island in the distance. I'm starting to think this physical solitude is getting the best of me despite my best efforts to beat it. I don't know how else to spell it out other than to continue to stress my fear in it all and not knowing if help will be on it's way if this continues. What if I can't get to the phone, what if there's no one here to help me, what if something worse than a panic attack happens. I'm scared

I layed in bed for hours this morning with the same questions and emotions flooding my ability to think or see clearly. It was hard to get my feet to the floor wondering if moving would bring on that heart thumping anxiety, which turned into more anxiety about being anxious. By noon I was out of the shower, laundry making it's way through cycle after cycle and I went out the door for some cathartic isolation in a humid guitar room where the only sounds come from the smell of real wood, which drown out the voices in my head. From each strum and pick of a copper string, colors morph from black to blue and red and the simplicity of the guitar becomes the only thought it my head. It's a perfection of beauty in solace.

3 sets of new strings later, I've identified my next guitar purchase to join my growing flock of stringed beauties that make hours feel like minutes and further inspire me to write more and more music and learn those songs that bring feeling to words and emotion to the eyes of those folks smart enough to hear it. I couldn't imagine being one of the people on this planet that doesn't allow music to enter their souls and effect them the way music impacts me. Maybe I should though, from time to time, forget the music and just stay oblivious. HA, as if that would be possible.

Redemption Song keeps running through my head today, which finally defeats
3EB's "How's It Gonna Be", which has been on the tip of my tongue for days now. Today feels like a Bob Marley day, think I'll go grab 'Exodus' and jam out for a bit. Feel free to do the same, turn the lights down, sit back and... yeah, good stuff.

Think anxiety is a good reason to smoke weed? Wonder if I should take that up? Probably not, unless you live in California, maybe there you can do that. Hmmm

So there's the insight into my Saturday (minus one not so awesome conversation, and one really awesome friend who listens to me no matter what), still a lot of day left to go attack as soon as I figure out exactly what that entails. Until then, I'm going to sit back and watch my Bronco's play football, my Sounders play futbol and me taking deep breaths to avoid any further panic immobilizing nonsense today.

Stay Blessed-

Au moins maintenant l'orage ne peut pas me souffler parti

Well it's been an eventful week in the schizophrenic conversations I've been having with myself. Of course, I've stolen that line from an Aaron Lewis song, but it really has captured what I've been dealing with over the past weeks and months. There are good days, great days, hard days and miserable days. There's good conversations, some funny conversations, and then there's the internal discussions I have with myself that are down right ugly and hurtful and anything far from healing or helpful. I know I'm not the only one that does this, we all do it in one way or another, we're built that way, and anyone who actually says that they aren't introspective and doesn't discuss things with themselves, is either lying or oblivious to their own thoughts. And we all know there are people like that in the world, we see how many of them driving vehicles every morning on our way into work? I know I do, it's why 405 northbound was so backed up this morning, almost making me late to my 8:00 am meeting. Fortunately for me, I actually paid attention to the over road signs on I-5 suggesting I use a different route to Bellevue due to an accident at 44th. Thankfully, I wasn't too engaged in my own conversation while passing under the suggested detour that I missed it.

The conversations have been so all over the place these past few days and although it would probably be somewhat therapeutic for me to write it out here and re-read it later, I'm not going to. For no one's safety but my own, the last thing I need at this point in time is anyone worrying about whether or not I'm ok, doing drugs, needing rehab or a clinical lock down. Yes, things in my head have gone from simple memories with smiles to downright dark anger and bitterness and back to the lessons learned in years of being a simple romantic wanting something better than being alone. I can admit that, as should nearly 100% of you if we're being honest, no one wants to be alone. No one chooses to walk through life without a partner to share in that. I know I didn't necessarily choose it although it was what needed to happen at that juncture in life. I don't know if it was the right choice or if there was something else that could have made things different, but I do know that depending on what day it is, it was the right choice. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that day in and day out, I go home and do whatever it is I need to to stay busy; hit the gym, walk the dogs, play the guitar, write some music, play some video games, chat through text, update my stupid facebook status 50 times, watch a show or twelve, ignore a book staring me in the face, cook, clean, and so on. Anything and everything to stay busy or numb and try to live a life where I don't self destruct, keep my eyes open to new relationships, new friends, new memories, different. I've been burying myself during the day with work, so much so that I haven't kept up on this blog until now, where I've grabbed some spare time where I should be eating lunch, instead to tell you that I am ok. I don't need rehab, I don't need a "House"-like institutionalization to get better. I'm getting better without that, I'm learning what it takes to get beyond, despite the times I write here that I'm not. I don't feel stupid for breaking down from time to time as I write it out, the painful times or the bottom of the barrel moments. I know all too well that I should probably keep my mouth shut, but I don't cause I'm not built that way. I was born a guy who literally wears his heart on his sleeves and tells it like it is, at that moment, and I rarely hold back words or feelings, probably to my own detriment. And yet, I'm proud of that, it's honest and it's real, and I wish more people would do that. If there's one very specific thing I respect its that, whether I agree or approve with it or not. At least it's truth, and although that truth, that reality, cuts right through me from time to time, I'm still here. I have to tell myself from time to time when looking in the mirror, that despite of everything I've ever done wrong, every mistake or withheld truth, I am still here, stronger even when I feel like the load is too heavy to continue carrying, I'm still here. It would, however, be nice to share that load with someone else, which I guess is really just figurative. I do not want or need someone in my life to simply deal with my shit and fix it, rather someone to share in life, walk through life together and grow in this life. Don't you?

If you don't agree, then maybe you are a part of the small percentage of the world that should be alone, and that's cool too. To each their own, right? No matter how much work I put into me right now and focus on being a better dad and better man, my viewpoint on partnership and relationships won't change. I'm guarded though, a giant wall with binoculars present to make sure that feelings are real, that expectations are achievable and that no one unnecessarily gets hurt, all while trying to ensure that at the end of this life, I don't die alone. I don't know if that's possible, letting someone in without giving away the keys, and maybe I won't. Maybe I do die alone some day long from today, maybe that's ok too. These are the conversations I have with myself that are at the light end of the spectrum, the ones that don't really keep me up all night, but give me food for more thought, more conversations, more something. More, I guess, than staying busy and buried in the monotony of always trying to stay busy.

Stay blessed-

Schizophrenic Conversations lyrics

Are you afraid, afraid of the truth
in the mirror staring back at you
The image is cracked, but so it the view here
and the strength of a tree begins in the roots.
That I tend to bury into to you
At least now the storm can't blow me away

So crawl inside my head with me.
I'll show you how it feels to be
To blame like me.

Should I be afraid of this face that I see
In the mirror staring back at me
So cold were the days when I listened to you.
And you say that I'm weak, so show me the proof
Cause I still exist in spite of you
But I won't compete with you everyday,

So crawl inside my head with me,
I'll show you how it feels to be
To blame like me

Schizophrenic conversations that
I'm always having with myself
I hear these voices in my head competing
Maybe I could use a little help
I still have Schizophrenic conversations when there's no one else around to hear
I long for solitude and peace within me
Void of all the anger and the fear.

So crawl inside my head with me
I'll show you how it feels to be
Fucked up like me.

I'll show you how it feels to be
To blame like me
ashamed like me

5 Stages of something

You know it's always bound to be an emotional kinda evening when you sit down with a guitar, a cup of coffee and a cigarette and turn on the songs that make you cry at a moments notice, just for where they take you, or had taken you, at one time or another. For me, there's only a handful of songs that can put me on my knees and take my breath away. Those are the ones that I do everything I can to avoid when sitting in solace like I am tonight, and there's an urge to simply push out this, whatever it is, inside of me. The other night, a friend sent me a text, obviously inspired by the season opener of "Grey's Anatomy", which I would discover the day after. It read, "there are 5 stages to grief: Denial, Anger, Depression, Bargaining and Acceptance...Where do u think u r?" and in my haste to respond via text, cause you can't be too slow on the response or else it seems like you don't know what you're doing, I responded with "Depression and anger and bargaining...I'm all of that" and pressed send. That was Thursday last week and I've since had a lot of time to think and well, yeah, I watched 'Grey's' and cried through the first 14 minutes like a little girl and then I laughed and well finished the 2 hour episode in tears again. As I look at where I am today, I think I'm 4.5 out of 5 of those, the one I have yet to wrap my arms around is the acceptance piece, but fuck am I trying like hell to just accept where I am at 32; as a man, as a son, a father, a brother and a friend. I don't know if this is supposed to get easier, fighting against the world who tells me it will, fighting against the depression and the anger and the bargaining chips that I don't posses. Yeah, I battle depression, that shouldn't be a secret to anyone anymore and there's some days that are harder than others, and there's days where it doesn't hit me at all. I've been burying myself into work and the songwriting and trying to make something more of this life, one little breath at a time.

When my Grandmother passed away, I went to Boise for the funeral and it was suddenly a different place at my parents home. A big piece of our family was gone, and not just a big piece, the cornerstone of our family was missing. I spent a good amount of time that trip home just driving and listening to music. I bought close to 12 different albums that 3 days and listened to every song just looking for something to help me not think and feel. I picked up some angst driven punk Cd's, some shit I'd never heard of and wouldn't you know one of those contained "one of those songs" that I try and skip if it comes on my random play lists. It's from a Florida band called 'Yellowcard' and the song "View from Heaven" hit way to close for me. It was everything she possessed in my life and fit exactly what I would have said to her had I been there when her last breath came and went.

i'm just so tired
wont you sing me to sleep
and fly through my dreams
so i can hitch a ride with you tonight
and get away from this place
have a new name and face
i just aint the same without you in my life
late night drives, all alone in my car
i can't help but start
singing lines from all our favorite songs
and melodies in the air
singin life just aint fair
sometimes i still just can't believe you're gone
and im sure the view from heaven
beats the hell out of mine here
and if we all believe in heaven,
maybe we'll make it through one more year
down here

feel your fire,
when its cold in my heart
and things sorta start
remindin' me of my last night with you
i only need one more day
just one more chance to say
i wish that i had gone up with you too
and i'm sure the view from heaven
beats the hell out of mine here
and if we all believe in heaven
maybe we'll make it through one more year
down here

you wont be comin' back
and i didn't get to say goodbye (goodbye)
i really wish i got to say goodbye
and im sure the view from heaven
beats the hell out of mine here
and if we all believe in heaven
maybe we'll make it through one more year
i hope that all is well in heaven
cause it's all shot to hell down here
i hope that i find you in heaven
cause i'm so...
lost without you down here
you wont be coming back
and i didn't get to say goodbye (goodbye)
i really wish i got to say gooooodbye

When my best friend left this earth just shy of a year later, my world came crashing down and I've never been able to let go of that loss. I've talked about him a lot in this ongoing dialogue between me as the writer and you as the reader. He was an amazing man, not without faults, but a man that I miss severely, especially when I'm in this struggle with acceptance. I've accepted his departure, there's nothing more to really argue about. He's gone, but his memory is constantly on my mind and my heart. Counting Crows has 2 songs that will forever make me think of him, "Raining in Baltimore" and "Hazy". I think Raining impacts me the most, thinking back to the drive after the phone call when I found out he was gone. I jumped in my truck about 2 hours after the news and hit the road, Boise bound yet again for a loss. It was foggy and rained almost the entire drive through the night. I cried and yelled almost that entire eight hour drive, depression and anger, and I couldn't stop thinking about this song.

This circus is falling down on its knees
The big top is crumbling down
It's raining in Baltimore fifty miles east
Where you should be, no one's around
I need a phone call
I need a raincoat
I need a big love
I need a phone call

These train conversations are passing me by
And I don't have nothing to say
You get what you pay for
But I just had no intention of living this way

I need a phone call
I need a plane ride
I need a sunburn
I need a raincoat

And I get no answers
And I don't get no change
It's raining in Baltimore, baby
But everything else is the same
There's things I remember and things I forget
I miss you I guess that I should
Three thousand five hundred miles away
But what would you change if you could?
I need a phone call
Maybe I should buy a new car
I can always hear a freight train If I listen real hard
And I wish, I wish it was a small world
Because I'm lonely for the big towns
I'd like to hear a little guitar
I think it's time to put the top down
I need a phone callI need a raincoat

Tonight I am missing you, those of you that I have lost a long the way. Tonight, I sit here by candle light and remember those short times we had...and for those of you that read this and think that I only ever talk about "losing these two amazing people, move on" I'm sorry, this is what comes out of me when I'm 12 feet down in a hole and trying to figure out how to get the fuck back up. These people help me see that there's more to this earth than what I am dealing with and it's ok to keep going. No, I don't dwell on the topic and I don't bask in their memories, but not a day goes by that these 2 don't cross my mind and provide me very different ways of handling things. Deal with it or don't reaad this anymore, choice is yours.

I have a lot more to say about all of this, but for another time. I'm burned out, bummed out and wishing things were different from so many angles. But like I said to someone earlier today, "wishes are like dreams", keep them in thoughts but don't bank on them. You'll only be disapointed in the end, and this guy, can't handle any more disapointment right now. So I'm keeping my head up, my eyes open and ready for the big show. Although, acceptance can kiss my ass for now.

Stay blessed-