Uhhhh.... What's a debt ceiling?

I'm gonna be pretty honest here. I don't know what a debt ceiling is. I always thought of debt as more of a downward spiral. A ceiling doesn't make much sense. A cellar sounds better. But I don't make the rules. In fact, the people that make the rules aren't even giving a shit about making rules or decisions right now. Before I get too involved in this very ill-informed rant, let me assure you that I haven't a clue about what I am discussing. I work a lot. When I'm not working, I am trying to help raise my two daughters with my wife, while she puts herself through school. We stay on the go constantly, which makes it hard to keep up with current affairs and political issues. So my vague understanding of this current situation is that our country is in terrible debt, and mostly to itself. Sure, China owns 6% of the multi-trillion dollar debt that we have, but the majority is owed to the Social Security Administration and the National Treasury. Now forgive me if I'm wrong, but it more so seems like the American Government is like a wayward college student who owes his parents a shitload of money, and his dormitory drug dealer $60 for his last eighth of weed. What makes this situation even worse is that the folks that we cast votes for and trusted enough to elect to represent us in tough times such as these are acting like asshole eight year olds on a rundown park playground. Now this is where my uninformed assumptions really begin. Some dude named Boner thinks he can solve everything by cutting spending and amending the Constitution or whatever. I'm sure that's fine and whatnot, but not everyone he works with seems to think so, so that deal is out the window. I mean, really, his idea probably sucks, too, but there isn't really anyone with an agree-able plan. The biggest issue here is that we have believed the American Dream to have no ceiling since its conception, and now we are a Capitalist paradox. Anyone can fulfill their dreams, as long as the average dream is working two jobs to support their families and dying too young due to stress and cancer. So yeah. I don't really know what is going on right now, honestly. I do understand that the bullshit ideals that our country has sold us have gone belly up, and now we are expected to pay for it. I don't see congress taking a pay cut, and I don't really see any progress being made. I'm not really sure why we have publicly elected officials anymore. They should all be appointed by the corporations that own them. It would ease the pain of them continually fucking over the general public over and over and over again. As for the debt cellar, I sure am glad that the NFL lockout ended. It was the perfect good-news distraction to be made right before our country's economy completely collapsed at the hands of absolute idiots.

Lesser For Better or Worser...

We are riding the line here. There is enough stress and strife building up that we don't know whether to get on board or throw ourselves in front of the train. Government is questionable now, and in some parts of the world, the people are winning. They are tied to the tracks and derailing dictatorships. I think it is amazing to see such efforts to better their lives, and I hope that the trend continues. I hope that the idea of revolution can continue to bleed over onto others.

America is in need of revolution. If we continue the current path then we will find ourselves disbanded to a point of incivility. Everything that this country was built on is steadily burning away into the ether. Our culture is comprised of ridiculous bullshit. Popular culture is obsessive to the point of law suits. We have no identity. There is no individuality. If you don't "like" it on facebook then you are a fool. We heave our money at companies to feel that we are a part of something. We write blogs and tweets and status updates but we don't really talk to each other. We have been branded. We are slaves to an ideal culture that doesn't really exist. Celebrities are iconic only because they are plastered everywhere we turn. We adopt their standards because they are shoved down our throats. All of a sudden, steroids and methadone are okay. They are performance enhancers. Rape only happens when gold diggers are involved. It is okay to hit your girlfriend if you have an album in the top ten or you are a starter for the Steelers. We laugh when Lindsay gets a prison sentence. Our eyes and ears are glued to the news when famous folks fuck up because it makes us feel better. Charlie Sheen, Lindsay Lohan, Ben however-you-spell-his-last-name, they are the lighthouse. All we have to do is be better than that?

What's worse is that we have allowed ourselves to forget that the celebrities that we focus our interest and disdain upon are just as human as we are. They might have a bit more money and privilege than the lot of us, but what would you do? If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be? I'd love to think that I'd stop working for a bit, but I fall into unrest so easily.

I don't want to lose sight of my previous point. The epitome of the problem lies in our complacent acceptance of what "culture" is fed to us. Behind that "culture" are corporations looking to please demographics, based on generalized studies that apply to about 2% of the population. The government takes these numbers and plugs them into some equations built by a small group of people that have enormous brain power and they come up with a viable solution to all of our problems; the 98% that is left over. Now we see funding for potentially helpful government programs get cut. We see our parks get left behind come spring time when they could use just a bit of improvement. We see taxes get "fairly" homogenized to save face come campaign donation time. We continue to sell ourselves short because we are either too polite or too unwilling to stand up and say "FUCK OFF!"

We work hard, everyday. At least most of us do. And a large percentage that doesn't, wants to. Why should we suffer the lesser when we know we deserve better.

The Saint and the Cynic

I have spent many years on the fence, teetering both ways. Call it fence surfing. I can say for sure that I spent the younger years of this decade in the red. I was an angry, seething cynic. I hated as much as I could. With a smile of course. I was happiest hating, making excuses for my lack of action. "What's the point? It's useless to fight it." The it being defined as the constant barrage of opposition that we face in our day to day lives. Yep, by that definition it's still pretty faceless. I'd drink myself into oblivion every night, waking up to shrug off another hangover.

I now constantly wonder why the fuck I didn't fight back. I mean, sure, I paid certain small contributions to the struggle, but only enough to feel less pathetic and meaningless. Now my life is marked and directed by fatherhood. I have two beautiful girls that help me choke back the cynicism and hatred that still bubbles beneath my skin. I would be in heaven if I didn't have to worry about them someday stepping foot on the soil of this earth without parental guidance.

The last four years have brought a whole lot to my attention. It wasn't enough that I wasn't ready to be a husband, much more a father. The universe brought Charleigh to us very early, so we were thrown into tumult very early on. My wife and I, barely married, faced the very unexpected. I watched Stephanie lay barely conscious for almost a week, on a literal deathbed, before they decided to take Charleigh by Cesarean. I spent the morning of my first daughter's birth wondering if either of them would survive. Stephanie spent a few days recovering physically. Charleigh spent her first four months in the hospital finishing out her development. My family was literally showered with support and love. There was no shortage of human kindness. We were embraced by an enormous community that we had no idea even existed. There is no way we would have survived without that embrace. I have never been able to find the proper words, nor the proper forum to thank the countless people involved in saving my family. I don't believe a book could contain the proper words to say what I would like to say. I owe my livelihood and my family's strength to the kind actions of others.

It is unfortunate to say that there are many people that I didn't thank. There are many that I lost touch with, some family. Everyday was crazy. I carried the guilt in my throat. I cherished every moment and was so grateful for every good deed that was extended to us. It was this strenuous time in my life that slowly began to stifle the cynic. I felt the strength of humans being right. I was on the receiving end of the unconditional love of strangers.

As a result of that experience, I feel that there is no other way to spend my life than to be in the service of strangers. Not just strangers, of course. I just want to help. In any way possible. My friends, family, whomever. I want everyone to be okay with their lot in life. I know in my heart that is not possible. The world doesn't work in accordance with making all things right with its inhabitants. The struggle makes everything else more worthwhile. The simple fact that we cannot forget is that we can alleviate some of the struggle just by listening and giving more to each other. It is easy to escape into cynicism. It's harder to stand next to someone and be there through the struggle.

Happy Hollow Days

Yeah, it's a shitty phonetic trick in the title there, huh? It's not that funny. I know.

I love the holidays, I do. I enjoy every bit of it. When I could afford it, I even loved the over-commercialization of Christmas. Sure, I've spent years of my life struggling with the drama and bullshit that seems to erupt towards the end of the year, even pinching myself in the aisles of department stores hoping I make the right gift choice for whoever it is on my shopping list. It seems ridiculous because it is ridiculous. We've over thought this thing for so many years that we can't see that it is so fucked up. I mean, really.

When I was a kid it was all about Santa. Of course, my brother and I were slaves to Santa. Especially come November because that's when parents start hammering that shit home. We got older and morality gained prevalence and the Christ story became a larger part of our Christmas. Santa and Jesus had quite a feat before them, taming the wild heathen children of the early 1980's.

Christmas has always been crazy. It's gotten so crazy now that I feel insensitive just calling it Christmas. If I don't say "Happy Holidays" I'm probably stepping on someones' toes. Kids in grade school have it the worst. I feel sorry for the lot of them these days growing up in a politically sound world. When I was a kid and we had a Jehovah's Witness in the classroom it was their tough shit that they didn't celebrate. "Ahh... look at poor Brian... He doesn't get a cookie because his family adheres to ridiculous ideals." We didn't hiccup. They didn't get a cookie. Their parents had a lot of explaining to do.

Nowadays, everybody must be included, to the point that it is even more fucking ridiculous.

It just doesn't make sense. When I was a child, if I didn't enjoy something, it was my fault. Now we walk on eggshells, hoping that we did it right. Hoping we made everybody happy. Crossing our fingers that we weren't found at fault for someone's foul mood. None of it makes sense.

We are trying too hard to impress ourselves. Shut up. You can't do it. Don't buy me a french press, I already have one. My daughter doesn't need another tutu. I'm sorry, I didn't know you had three copies of 'The Catcher in the Rye.' Why can't we just hang out and have a good time? oh, yeah, 'cause there are socio-ploitico- religulious obligations called the fuckin holidays to be had. I think I just made up words. word.

love to your breasteses.

The Hand Job

I'd like to take a break from the soapbox to share a story from prepubescence. The Fall's forthcoming has surely forced this one to the surface.

It was early October, and I was just about to turn thirteen. I had signed up to go on the church youth group hayride. I had never really been on a hayride before, and had convinced myself that it was NOT going to be a good time, but it would keep me out of the house for a few hours.

Since it has been nearly two decades, and several details are now too fuzzy to recall, I'll just cut to the meat of this thing. The group was twenty thick on the trailer of a one ton truck stuffed with tiny hay bales, and we were winding through a field peppered with pumpkins and squash and scarecrows. It was a chilly fall night, and as the sun went down I found myself sitting real close to a girl that I just happened to have a crush on. I honestly do not recall if this was a result of some strategic play on my part, but most likely I did everything I could to be right next to her. We had covered up under a blanket near the cab of the truck. The moment was flawless; the sun was setting, our jeans were touching. We were perfectly poised to fall into each other. As we got more and more comfortable, we started holding hands. Hard. It was the most intimate moment I had ever shared with a girl. We were softly exploring each others fingers, tracing the curves of our knuckles. It was getting pretty heavy. I had never been so excited in my life. The further the truck took us into that dark field, the more comfortable we became with each other.

This went on for awhile. I knew every millimeter of her fingers. We continued to trace each others life lines, our fingers intertwined. I could tell that the ride was soon coming to an end, and I didn't know how to approach the situation after we left the bed of this truck. I knew for certain that if I didn't play my cards right, we'd never ever hold hands again. Just as I was mentally navigating what I could say to her, she pulled both of her hands from underneath our blanket.

My heart sank. My fingers were still locked together in this amazing grasp, and yet I felt the magic drain out of the fingertips. All digits went limp, the heavy rubbing slowed. I looked at my girl, and she had no idea what was happening. I looked at the guy sitting next to her, and knew immediately. I had been hand in hand with an older man. We had both believed that we were holding hands with her. I gotta say... regardless of the truth of the matter, it was electric. There was a charge between our fingers, a magic. A horribly humiliating magic. We never spoke of it again.

Assimilate with Extreme Prejudice

I find the world of work to be utterly dumbfounding. Don't take this the wrong way. I work. A lot. I have always been with a job since the day that I was of legal age to hold one. Well, that's not true. I've spent short periods of my life jobless, and pretty bored and miserable. What I find to be so ridiculous about work is that we have allowed ourselves as a society to hold jobs that we cannot stand. We work for companies that don't even need to exist. We build useless shit and then we buy useless shit with the money we earned from the job that we dislike.

Now I know that this all sounds a little negative and cynical, and that there are people out there that love their jobs. I also agree that there are a lot of people out there that are doing great things with their lives, helping others, improving their surroundings, and all around just increasing the quality of life for themselves and others. I am willing to bet there are still more folks that would love to be in the position to do the same, but have been pigeon-holed into a situation where they have to make the ends meet by working at the tire factory or the chicken "processing" plant, or some other lifeless cog in the wheel of the American Dream machine.

If we could all truly take a step back from our "culture" and look at it for what it really is... it's heartbreaking. There is no one to blame but ourselves. Not MTV. Not FOX News. Not Wal-Mart. At some point, the majority failed. It's collective voice sighed in resignation and said, "I can accept mediocrity and dwell in the shallow end of the doldrums for the rest of my life. Besides, I got mouths to feed. It can't be THAT bad." Next thing you know, we get disco. And then, it got even worse. New Kids on the Block made it okay for young boys to go get $30 perms, only in the back, mind you. Thirty dollars. Parents were shelling out money they didn't really have to make their kids happy, to make their kids look like fools. I'm guilty. Guilty as hell. I never had a perm but I had a nappy rat tail. I remember my mom laughing at it, but she paid for it anyway.

We have been hoping to find happiness in the worst places. We were taught that if you shell out money for the trendy label then people will just flock to you and love you and then you will be happy. We have belittled ourselves to the point of working shit jobs to buy shit products from these companies that are exploiting our insecurities. I swear, if ever the wool had been pulled.....

I guess my whole point is to do what you love. Don't settle for what is convenient. If you have to struggle for a while to make it work, then I can guarantee that someone somewhere has got it worse. Stick it out. Don't give up. All that positive pep talk shit.

But seriously, we gotta help each other out to get through this thing. It really shouldn't have gotten this bad.

It's about time...

I don't know how long I have actually had this blog account. I vaguely remember setting it up one night, several years ago. I have always wanted to use it, but I have been fearful of writing for so long and for no good reason. I suppose I didn't want to come across as stupid or pretentious or whiny or too cynical or too naive or whatever. It boils down to fearing criticism of any kind. It is insecurity and self doubt and whatever else is afflicting my psyche at the moment.

At this point in my life, I have decided to throw caution and bullshit to the wind and rise up out of my snot-sealed sarcophagus and scream "FUCK IT!" I mean, who's gonna read this anyway? And out of those that do, who's really going to care? We are all just id and ego floating around the interweb. It's taken my superego this long to let go of my id long enough to type these few lines. Seriously, Id has been imprisoned for a long time. I'd say about six years, and that is another story altogether. Maybe if this blog grows up, we'll talk about it.

And since the blog is now born, after a three or so years gestational period, I guess it must find a purpose, and quick. I mean, the pressure is on now! What the hell could I really write about in somewhat serial fashion? What do i know? I know a lot about food, and cooking, and there is endless amounts to learn about said subject, but it's gettin' tired, man. Everybody loves grilling pizzas and smoking zucchinis and shit now. If it ain't weird, don't eat it! And I don't have any money to go out buying weird shit just to experiment with, so I'll leave that to the other thousands of bloggers out there that are already doing it. I'm also learned about music of all sorts, but I'm not looking to be the next Pitchfork, or Brooklyn Vegan either. I'm way too lame to meet those expectations. I did used to dance around my parents living room, in a jock strap, blaring the Everly Brothers. My parents were laughing too hard to voice their true concerns, which I'm sure were great, and rightfully so. That's some weird shit for a ten year old to be mixed up in...

Holy hell... how long are these post thingies supposed to be? I mean, of course, by societal standards. I don't want to push the boundaries of blogging by any means. I just don't know what they are, and even if they exist. I guess, from what I have seen, it can get pretty weird out there in the realm of the blog. Regardless... I guess for now I'll just ramble on about nothing until a doorway appears to lead me to a true pathway for me and my blog to follow. Of course, in tow will be all of my baggage, carried by my ego with my id on a leash. I am sure that if my legions of subscribers that I will surely have amassed just minutes after this first post, if any of them have any questions that they need answered, then I will happily oblige, for I do know everything, and I'm not afraid to share my vast wealth of knowledge. Of course anything I don't know and can't google, I will just fill in with vast amounts of tiresome, uninteresting bullshit.