I Like your beard-Ke$ha

One of my childhood dreams was to be able to grow facial hair. I wanted a beard. Remember those toys, the one in the picture over there<------- The Wooly Willy....I wanted that, to be able to, as a real person, grow a kick ass beard. I know it's sort of a lame goal, lame dream, but my pop had a beard, mustache, fu-man-chu, depending on the day, and I thought my pop was awesome. So I guess I wanted to be like him, like all little boys want to be like their dad.

As I got older, I still wanted a beard, but I wanted to be like G.I. Joe. And by older, I mean 5 or 6. He was, still is a badass. The ironic thing is that I am kinda girly, I would rather hang out with women, just more comfortable. One time my mom caught me, stopped me from trying to cut my face. I wanted a scar like GI Joe. I was going to cut my face with one of those plastic, picnic knives. I wouldn't have done any damage, but it kinda freaked out my mom, she didn't get it.

So as I really got older, ie puberty, I was ready for some hardcore whiskers. I was ready for that thicket to sprout on my face and to show everyone how manly I really was. Knowing that I was pretty far from that. It never came. I thought I was doomed to be a (facial) hairless freak. Well, truth be told the only place I ever really had any hair was on my head, oh and eyebrows too, does that count?? It turns out I had a strange medical condition, the details of which I won't bore you with here, that sorta hindered my facial hair growth. So finally, thanks to better living through chemistry I was able to grow facial hair. I would do the "just beard" on my chin, the soul patch, the goatee. Any kind or incarnation of facial hair, good and bad, I had on my face one time or another. I did the fu-man-chu, which is the facial hair equivalent to the mullet, right??

So I finally get my dream job, and there is a "no full beard" rule. I guess the way it is worded in the handbook is more like the facial hair can NOT be connected to the hair on the head. Wait, that's lame, sorry, but it is. But, I got the ok from the boss that if I kept it neat and trimmed I could grow a full beard. Cool. But what I actually did was use that as an excuse for why I didnt shave. If I didnt shave, you can be assured that my boss would mention it in his own nice way....dull razor?? stand too far away from the razor, stuff like that. I would play the "I'm Growing a Beard" card, then promptly shave the following day. He got wise to my ways, and said, finally, either grow a beard or shave, no more of this bullshit. Harsh. So I set out to grow a beard. And I did. It turned out pretty good, I might add.

I had a beard, longish hair, I was living the dream. I liked the way it looked. I even went so far as to post a pic on facebook of my bushy mug and flop head( that's what my brother calls me). It didnt get rave reviews. Some of the words bandied about were "homeless", "Hobo", "meth-head", and "scary". That's so not fair, I mean, have you ever seen a tweaker that had a great looking head of hair like that?? NO WAY! Then other people at work were concerned. No, mad is the word. " Why does Brian get to have a beard and I can't??" Thanks alot, big babies. So, I cut my hair, and trimmed my beard.

Still people got mad because I was allowed and they were not. Hello....people... Do you cry foul when I come in early and stay later?? No. Are you concerned when I do the job, your job because you cant seem to figure it out?? No. So, who do you call, sometimes at home, when you can't figure out how to do "fill in the blank"?? ME. I sorta feel like maybe, just maybe, this beard is my little bonus for going above and beyond.

I got things cleaned up, thats fine. Here is the thing, why does my having a beard affect you or your happiness in any way, shape or form?? It shouldn't and it doesn't. Why can't you just be happy with what you have and not try to have what I do?? Am I getting special treatment?? Yes! Why do I get it and you don't?? I don't know. How does that old saying go, the beard is always fuller on the....no...that's not it....

Honestly, I'm thinking about cutting it off anyways. Before I cleaned up the hair and trimmed the beard, the worst thing I was called the "the New Unibomber". But since I got it cut, someone asked me if i was trying to be a hipster.... a hipster....where did I leave my razor???

Why I Still go to church.....

Every Sunday I go to church, alone. The same church I went to growing up. Let's start this way, with a definition of church...on second thought, let's not. I was raised catholic, and I still practice, kinda. I'm not sure if there is such a thing as a checklist to determine if I'm actually "catholic", but if there was, I'm not sure I'd qualify. The way I understand this, and if I'm wrong, please tell me, is that you are supposed to follow ALL of the teachings of the church and believe all the the beliefs. Well, i don't do that. I mean heck, I'm pro-choice, and i think that's a deal breaker.

As I became adult, the reasons I went to church changed. As a child, I went because I was told i had to. Plain and simple. that went on all through my life at home. When i was able to drive I still went to "church" but that involved meeting friends, usually girls(I have more girl friends than guy friends, I just do, always had) and we would go get ice cream or lunch, and go back to church and hang out until mass was over, then we went home. that's ok, right? Then in college, I still went, but not on a regular basis. After college, church became a time to reflect, I did a lot of thinking in church, my best work. I didn't really pay attention to what was going on, but I did get a lot out of my time there. Then my mom got sick, then better, then sick again, then she died. I have a friend who is a priest and when my mom was first sick, i talked to him. Well, honestly, I listened to him. I was in no shape for talking. I was doing lots of crying, I was scared, for mom, pops, me, my siblings. So he called me, I answered, he talked and I cried. He told me in his way, that she'd be ok. She did recover, my family got closer.

Then mom died, and I had a real problem with it. I was mad....at God. I think. I saw a lot of less worthy people, not as nice as my mom, not as good a person as my mom, who seemed to skate through life. Why did they get to live and not my mom?? Judgey, I know. I spent a lot of time alone, reflecting on this and why. My faith, whatever, helped me through this. It was a long and hard process but i got through it and came out a better man, at least i think i did. I was told by my friends that if that happened to them they would never go to church again. Really?? How do you know?? I hasn't happened to you. Don't presume to know how you'd react. Now, I wasn't mad, I understand they were trying to make me feel better, and i appreciated the gesture, however misguided.

My friends go to church because they have kids and they feel like they have to. I get that, I do. But here is why I go to church. I see some of my mom's old friends, and they always say hello to me, they tell me my mom would be proud of the man I became. I need that sometimes. I see my old school teachers, from grade school and high school. They ask how I am, I ask how they are. I see Miss Batty. She was the librarian when i was in grade school. I was a latch-key kid, and spent lots of time at the library. As she walks back from communion, she always stops by my pew and grabs both of my hands in her hands. See, I sit a few rows ahead of her, and we are too far away to shake hands. When mass is over, we walk out together, our arms locked as we walk and talk. Today she asked me if i remember the time she came up behind me and started to rub my shoulders and I yelled "MOLESTER!! MOLESTER!!!" at the top of my lungs. She and to put her hand over my mouth because the police station was in the same building as the library. I do remember that. We both laugh.

I don't agree with everything the church says. I'm way more liberal. I know that according to the church, that's not right. I know that church points me in the right direction, helps keep me honest, its my moral compass. It's easy for me to say, its too early, too late, too hot, too cold to go to church. But I drag my sorry ass out of bed, to try to become a better Brian. I fail. But, to borrow a line, I get up and do it again, Amen.

dream jobs...how to know if you already have yours....

The first thing I did when I sat down in the car was turn on the radio. I was a little stressed, well, maybe not stressed, but I was tired. It was a nice fall evening...it was after midnight, so I guess it wasn't evening anymore, it was one of those late nights/early mornings where the windows fogged up just by sitting in the car and breathing. Truth be told, I was sorta glad I would have to wait to drive until the windows unfogged, is that really a word even, that way I could take a listen to what was on the radio. You see, I'm a music junkie...I'm a freak about it. I like almost any kind of music...I always thought if i didn't do what i do now for a living, I would do something that had to do with music. Maybe in the industry, or promotion, or heck, I'd even work in a record store....what...you don't know what a record store is?? oh....boy.....

So, maybe you don't know this about me, but in the past few years, I started to DJ. It started innocently enough, making mix tapes, errrr CDs for friends, and then making CDs for parties. I found a refurbished CD mixing board on eBay for pretty cheap. Bid, won! Then I hooked it up to an old home stereo receiver and a set of really crappy speakers and I would have dance parties in my basement....it was AWESOME!! I mean, I was the only person there, but it was pretty great....at least I thought so...from there I started to DJ, with pretty good reviews I must add, house parties. I had more fun, and to be honest, it got me out of the stupid party chit-chat, which I'm not too keen on, not really good at. So instead of that stuff, I got to hide behind my DJ table and do something I love to do and I'm marginally good at, which is play music.

Then, one spring i got the call...my first real paying DJ gig...it was at a Jr High-school...they couldn't afford a "real DJ" i was told. What...hello....what am I?? But for a 1/3 of the price of a real DJ, I took the gig! They even had posters with me on it...they said "Music by A DJ". I didn't have a DJ name, so I guess A DJ is a pretty cool name....haha...not really,but you know. From there I got other gigs, school dances, house party, fund raiser. It's not like the jobs were rolling in, but I made enough money to buy some really good equipment.

This night, the night of this blog, was my first wedding gig. I have to admit, i was one of the most nervous people at this function. It was an outdoor wedding, it was super windy, it was a little chilly, it was scary. I didn't get the song list until about 4 days before the wedding. By that I mean, I had not a clue what any of the songs were(first dance, intro, father/daughter dance, ect.) until 4 days before the wedding was going down. Short notice, ya think?? But I got that done, and it was all good....3 copies, on 3 different CDs of all of those songs, and 1 digital copy of all those songs too(backup, backup and backup). I'd like to say things went off without a hitch, but I don't want to lie. I will say this, I was a hit with the under 12 crowd. It is truly amazing what a little Miley Cyrus will do to your cred with the little ones, especially if you announce their names before said Miley song. The dance floor was filled the whole night. Not just because of me, but because of the alcohol, the lack of light, and the age of the party goers. Some of it was me, but it was a small part, but I'm happy with that.

The part about being a DJ that you don't ever think about is how the music gets there. Yes, I have to load, unload,reload and re-unload all of my equipment. That's the only part that sucks...well that and having to deal with people who have been over served and have no problem telling you how much you suck...alot....over 10 times at one gig....but I digress... As I broke down my stuff, I heard lots of comments. I was told I was awesome, great, the greatest(not true, but thanks) , that I was old. I'm not sure if the age comment was an implication on my DJing abilities, but it was made by an extremely drunken 18 year old...which makes it funny...
The rommie helped, it was great to not be alone all night, and to not have to do all the lifting myself. The gear was loaded, the roomie took off, separate cars, and i went back to the backyard to take a quick sweep to make sure I didn't forget anything. I ran into the mother of the bride, the person who actually hired me, who paid me. I thanked her, and I told her I had a blast, and I hoped everyone else did too. She said I was awesome, I did more than she expected. I was happy, she was happy. It was a good night.

It never gets old to hear you're good. It never gets old to hear someone likes what you do. It's always nice to hear when someone appreciates what you do. I've been told I'm the worst DJ, I've been told I'm the best DJ. I do not believe I'm either. I'm pretty sure I'm somewhere in-between. I've been told at a funeral how good I am at this. I've been told at a gig I should never do this again. I do not think I'm the best ever. I do think I'm the best to some people. I don't think I suck, but I am afraid I may suck.

When this night started, I was adding up the cost of my gear, to see if I was able to quit doing this and not lose money. If I never did this again, would I be able to break even? At the end of the night, as I sat in my car, tired from the stress of the day, from the loading and unloading and reloading , I was thinking of ways I could do this better. As the windows cleared, so did my head. I sat in the car, waiting for the windows to be clear doing research for the next gig.