Under the table and dreamning

As a child, the holidays were a pretty big deal. My Mom's parents lived far away, like 8 hours, so a day trip over the river and though the woods to Grandmother's house was pretty much out of the question. But, my Pop's folks, well, my Grandma, lived just a few miles away, one town over from us. JACKPOT! For the major holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and sometimes Easter, we would pack up the Gran Torino, the same car Starsky and Hutch drove, but with a different paint job, and spend the day, into the evening at Gramma D's house. It was always a joyous occasion for us kids. You see, when you are a kid, as we all can remember, your only responsibility was to be in the car when it was driving away. We didn't have cell phones, or Ipods to bring. This was before the times of Nintendo DS, and DVDs. We just had our imagination to keep us occupied throughout the day.


We would pack up the car early. Early enough to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in its entirety at Gramma's house. The day would be filled with the sounds and smells of Thanksgiving. The sound of my Mom's high heels on the floor, though I can never remember her having, let alone wearing high heels, I sure do remember hearing them on the hardwood floors. The sound of beer cans opening, don't judge, and the sound of a Zippo being lit...again, it was the 70's. I can remember the sound of the electric mixer, a sure sign that dinner will soon be served, it was potato mashing time!! There was also some swearing, as Pop was and is a Lions fan, and they would be beaten on a regular basis on Thanksgiving. Corn never tasted so good...and the gravy, well, don't get me started. It was a cornucopia of great smells....turkey, rolls, pie, green bean casserole. So many good smells.

There was lots of eating, and drinking and football watching. Naps were had by all. Then later on, more eating of leftovers. Turkey sandwich anyone?? YES PLEASE! One of the highlights for me was, after dinner, the kids....me, my brother and sister, and my 2 cousins would crawl under the big dining room table and just play. we would bring our cars, or the cars that were left at Gramma D's house and play. Sometimes we would pretend we were in jail, or stuck on an island, note to self, sue ABC for stealing my idea for LOST, or in outer space or whatever. It was the best!! It seemed to go on for hours, heck, maybe it did. I think that was for me, the best part of the holidays.

Now, when it's the holidays, after dinner is done and the dishes are done(I pitch in) I will go and hide my niece's Nintendo DS, sorry "DS-I Uncle Brian!!" she reminds me, and I hang out under the table. For a while, it's just me, and I kinda, sorta like that. But then after a little bit I'm greeted with "what are you doing under there??" Sometimes I say I lost something, sometimes I say I'm being punished, both of which, my nieces know could have happened. They will ask if I need help looking, or escaping. Yes, I do!! Then after we look and can't find, or try to escape and can't, the under of the table is filled with toys. Dolls, yes, I play with dolls, so?? Or balls, especially if my Nephew is involved. We will roll the balls back and forth. One time we named all of the plastic horses she got for Christmas. That was fun. That was a few years ago...she STILL remembers the names, I don't, but I act like I do. We have had some great talks under there. I have them all but convinced that what I do for a job is a Pirate....I mean, why else would I have a beard?? Yes, I have a pirate uniform, and No, you can not see it, its at the Pirate Cleaners, I got food on it at work. For now, they still believe me.

It's still a lot of fun to play under the table. The getting under and getting back out isn't as easy as it once was...I think they are making tables a lot smaller now, I'm pretty sure thats it. But rest assured that I will be under the table, and not from drinking, again this Thanksgiving or Christmas. I have to, it's for the kids....you believe me, right??

my impact.....

im starting to realize that what i do, how i do it, who i am is having an impact on the people and things around me. I think I've always known it, but now its being in the front of my mind, in front of my face...

I have lots of thoughts on this floating around my head...flying, not floating. This may keep me up tonight...but before I post more, I will have to sleep on this. Think on this...or as Michael Scott said, chew on this and see what comes out the other end....

expectations, of me, you, the universe
respect, me, you universe
living a thankful, gracious life
appreciation
trying to understand, but knowing i never will fully understand


too heavy for me this late at night...sleep calls, ill drift away, and revisit this tomorrow...

time....an apology

I have no concept of time anymore. I used to, when I was in college. I had a set schedule of classes. I had to be at a certain place on a certain day at a certain time. That made things easy. Then when I graduated things changed. Long days were hard at first. Working, standing for 12 hours at a time can take its toll on you. Physically, emotionally. I was beat, battered. This is when I started to not be able to sleep, well, at least like i USED to be able to sleep. After a 12 + hour day at work I would go home, and eat, late. I would stay up late, not by choice mind you, but because I couldn't sleep. I would lay in bed for a while, staring, tossing, not sleeping. Then I would get out of bed, look for the NyQuil and have that kind of sleep. Not restful at all. Almost like labored sleep. I would sometimes feel more tired after I woke up. Those were some good times. Other times when sleep escaped me, I would get up and watch TV. I watched the church channel, I could recognize all of the tele-evangelist. It was pretty scary. I would watch Arena Football, GO IOWA BARNSTORMERS!! Repeats of Infomercials. I would have to be at work at 9am, I would not be able to sleep till 4am, 3am if i was lucky. Then, Id get up, go to work for 12 more hours and then the same thing would happen again, rinse and repeat. It was not fun, not good. At one point I strung together 17 days in a row. 12 hours a day for 17 days in a row. Only sleeping 5 hours a night. Maximum. I have to honestly say, I don't know how I did it. Thinking back, I remembered the first 4 or 5 days, parts of days 6 thru 10, and after that...well...Im embarrassed to say, I didn't recall, wasn't sure what I did. I'm sure no one was harmed by my lack of sleep...well, I'm not really sure.

My life seemed like one of those videos where the world moved around me at a super fast pace and I was in slow motion. I was a walking zombie, minus the brain eating. Not good, not healthy for me, or the people I was taking care of.

But I figured it out. I was never one of those people who were upset that they couldn't sleep. Even now, I think I sleep maybe 5-6 hours a night, and its OK...its good. I sorta look at it like I get extra time now.

The last 3 weeks though, have been rough. My boss, who I love, just had a baby. Her fourth baby. Her fourth girl. 3 weeks early. So, I was able to, well I guess I had to work a little extra. By a little extra, I mean about 60 hours a week, for the last 3 weeks. In addition to that, I had 2 DJ gigs....yes....I DJ....and that's super stressful for me. I worry that Ill just suck or just maybe ruin someones wedding, no big deal, right?? So....let's do the math shall we...
60hrs a week x 3 weeks + 2 DJ gigs + 5 hrs sleep = a bad thing.

I've been unavailable...as a person...except at work. I'm able to put all my "personal eggs", no jokes please, in my work basket. That's just how it is, how it has to be. In real life, every few months or so, I'll sleep. For maybe 8-10-12 hours one night. That will recharge my batteries. It works for me. But for now, right now, I wont get to do that, until Tuesday. So for now I just want to say, need to say, I'm sorry. I'll be back in a day or two, and I'm sorry if I wasn't "around"...

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.

Wear your heart on your....thumb?? or how I realized I'm blessed...

If I look at my thumb today, nearly a week later, I can still see the ever so faint big ass smiley face on my thumb nail. Well, ok, I can't really see it...its been a week, but honestly, i can still kinda see it. On Monday I was lucky, so lucky, to host a house concert. The 2 singers that came to my house to play were Alexa Wilkinson and Lelia Broussard....MY HOUSE DUDE!!! I was sorta on my own, it was the roomies first day back to school, so she wasnt able to be there that day to help. No worries though, we spent alot of Sunday doing the stuff you must do to prepare for a house concert, which as it turns out is alot of the stuff you do anyways....cleaning up and stuff like that. It was a potluck, I was providing pulled pork(delish, thanks E) and hotdogs, and drinks. I spent the day monday, cleaning and getting the food ready. I was pretty nervous. I had to provide a certain amount of money for the girls and I wasn't sure I'd get enough people here to cover that cost. And honestly i wasn't sure my friends would be appropriate to the artists. I was sure some of them would, but a few, I was worried about. I was also worried that I would not be a good enough host to the artists...yeah, I know.

Fast-forward to that night, the roomie was late, my besties had to drop off the kids and it was starting to get to me. I called Dave, he showed fast, I relaxed a little. That was good. Then my friends started to show, and then the girls showed up and I was in host mode. I have to say, I'm not good at that, at being a host. I went out to help the girls carry in the instruments and introduce myself(see the host obligations). We talked, they were very nice. They had a hotel in Rockford that night, a show in Indy the next day...I know, i don't get it either, so I told them they were welcomed to stay here. Also, I'm not sure how it came up, but I also offered the use of my washer and dryer. They seemed very VERY excited about that, washer and dryer, who woulda thunk, but I guess that's life on the road.

So, I had asked Dave to be the money man. To pay the singers, I was charging $10. That's a deal, I mean, think about if you are going to a concert, how much you'd pay. Not to mention i had the food, and the drinks. All I was asking was $10 and a dish to share. Pretty fair, more than fair I had been told. But, Dave was collecting the money for me, so I could do host stuff. He is good at that stuff, and good for me, good to me. When it was time for the music to start, Dave was the one who got everyone, except a few, to shut up. (S took care of the rest of the talkers).

The music started and I was a ball of nerves again. I was pacing and it wasn't good. As the first song ended, I was out of the room, beer fridge, and I heard something...something that made my heart swell. My friends clapped and cheered so loud!! the funny thing is that i was worried, so worried about that. My friends didn't disappoint. It was like that all night long. Cheering and clapping, i was touched. Lelia and Alexa were touched. I mean I think i was the only person there who was familiar with their work. But my friends clapped after each and every song as if it was their favorite song.

The night went on, the show ended. Most of the people left, and the ones who I had hoped would stay stayed and we all hung out. We ate food(still lots of hotdogs left) drank beer and whiskey and talked and talked. They learned about us, we learned about them,. E and I were drawing our emotions on our thumbs, and a few others joined in. We took our picture, and ill never forget.

The night was great, and I learned things. Things I won't share here, but in the generally speaking, the thing I walked away with was this. I am leading a blessed life. I am blessed with friends(family) who collect money for me, cheer loud when i need them to, pay more than i ask, support the high school band, support me, tell talkers to be quiet, respect me and my guests. They show me they care about me in ways I can't describe, but I will try. Thank you for coming to my party(on a Monday night), thanks for being a great audience to Lelia and Alexa, thanks for hugging me when you left, thanks for putting your arm around me when i looked stressed, thanks for driving far(in construction), thanks for drinking my beer, eating my food, holding my hand. I really wanted a few people to be there, and they were, and they sometimes read this, you know who you are, and thanks for being there....but you're always there...thanks for that too.

After the show, after the clean up, after the morning after, after Alexa and Lelia left, after the dust settled I sent an email to say thanks, and I heard back with an email thanking me...it was funny, but I thought why thank me. I felt great for a few days, riding the wave of an awesome night. I thought what was different about me, nothing really, then I realized, it wasn't what I got from that night that raised me up, it's what I always had, I just finally realized I had it.