My 2010 Vacation: Day 3

I slept great on Friday night, so my Saturday shower wasn't as transcendent as the day before, but I was sure to get a spiritual high with five speakers on the docket. It began at 9am with a lady named Sonia Choquette.



I'd never seen her before or read her stuff. If there's one person whose seminar I wouldn't have minded missing, it would be hers. However, by the time her spiel ended at 10:30, I knew hers would be one of my absolute faves of the weekend.

The first thing I noted was that she looked and sounded like actress and wife to Ted Danson, Mary Steenbergen. I'd always found Steenbergen's voice kinda irritating, but coming from Sonia, I didn't mind as much. She had us do a few breathing exercises and then made us stand up and start dancing a bit as this skinny young guy in green who looked to be in his 20's came up to the stage and starting getting super-jiggy with it. His energy was very infectious. Check him out at 4:07 of this video from last year.

She told us to rub the shoulders of the person to our right, then give karate-type chops to their shoulders, then the same to the person on our left. But even more profound was an exercise called the breath of life in which, for 4 minutes, we raise our arms to the sky, utter a one-word syllable, lower the arms, then raise them again. She said two minutes into it, we would feel like we were dying because our arms would get so sore which was certainly the case for me, but seeing everybody else doing it, I followed along. I was NOT going to be the one who quit on it.

The four minutes ended and the feeling was incredible. I felt completely alive and most notably, completely in the present moment. It was an extremely blissful feeling and one she said could be achieved every day of our lives if we just took the four minutes to do it. I really don't recall much of what she said; I don't take notes during these things and Sonia actually had a requirement that no one else do so, either. Click on the above link for deets on the kinds of things she typically talks about.

Suitably pumped, the next speaker on my list was Neale Donald Walsch, the author of "Conversations with God". I'd last seen him speak last June at the same conference. I found a seat in the second row next to one of the ladies I'd met the night before. Ten minutes before the seminar was to start, Neale and his wife did something that none of the other speakers that I saw did during this time: they went up to people and warmly greeted them, had pictures taken, exchanged energy. It was during this time that Neale's wife looked in my direction with a look of recognition and a smile on her face and said, "Hi". I looked behind me, then pointed at myself and said, "Me?" I guess I was underestimating her ability to remember me from the 5-day retreat I'd spent with them in Oregon at the end of 2008. About twenty minutes into Neale's talk, he looked at me, stopped, and said, "Hi". I nodded my head and he said, "It's nice to see friends".

This would be the first of three consecutive days that I would be seeing Neale and it'd gotten off to a great start. One of the things he discussed was being told as a child that he was extremely fortunate to be in the situation he was in, that is, first of all, he was an American, which in the postwar era, was the place you'd wanna be. Not only that, but he was a Catholic, which was God's one true religion. In addition, he was white and a male! Talk about having the deck stacked in your favor. He spoke of how he eventually grew dissatisfied with the "I'm superior to you because of this" theory of life. When the 90 minutes were up, I lined up to get a couple of his books signed.



I mentioned that my wife wasn't able to attend this time, but gave her regards. I also said that I looked forward to Monday's all-day workshop. And with that, it was lunch time.

I met up with a couple of the girls from earlier and had a box lunch which consisted of a turkey wrap, a small bag of Lay's potato chips, an apple, and a Shasta. Just kidding about the Shasta. I remember being served that as a kid when I went to the Jehovah's Witnesses assemblies.

Before the next speaker began, a forty-something man with a guitar came out and regaled us with a song he wrote about love. He reminded me of Terry Jacks, the man who sang the 70's classic "Seasons in the Sun". I thought of a cool comment to give to the lady sitting next to me, but waited until he finished singing. The comment was all the more appropriate when he ended by saying, with complete sincerity and a smile on his face, "Have a great day!" As he left the stage, I turned and said "Why do I feel like we've time traveled to 1975?"

A moment later, Gary Zukav, a frequent visitor to Oprah, but a bit too undynamic for me, though he reminds me of Harrison Ford and has a kick-ass last name, came out. He talked mostly of spiritual partnerships, relationships that we have with others that cause us to grow spiritually. He said that all long-term relationships are challenging, but in most cases, worthwhile. He opined that the most profound relationship in our life is usually with our parents and/or kids. Tremendous growth can be found by working especially close on these relationships. One lady asked if all this talk of spiritual partnerships meant that he was against marriage. He replied that he wasn't, though, he saw no reason for people to live together if things started getting intolerable for one of the parties or if the woman gained 50 pounds.

As I left the ballroom to go to the next workshop, I noticed a young lady that had a sign next to her that said, "Free Hugs". She looked at me and said, "Would you like a hug?". I said, "Why not?" and embraced her. I wondered if she asked everyone if they'd like a hug or asked me because she was in the mood to get one from a guy; probably 20% of the participants there were men.

After a short break, the next speaker I was scheduled to see was a man named Michael Tamura.

He said that he has died twice and having done so, has no fear of passing on. He mentioned the healing he does for others in his dreams and was incredibly funny. He talked of a friend who said he wanted to kill himself. Tamura said that if that was his wish, he should do so. He even allegedly said to the person, "Here's a knife." Then he addressed the audience and said, "I like to be helpful". I was rolling in the aisle at that point.

More seriously, he told the man that if he did follow through, that he would just have to come back into the life again and live it without falling back on the "Poor me" schtick. When I was suicidal in 1993, one of the fears I had about killing myself was having to make up for the spiritual transgression. I wanted everything to go dark when I died, but feared this wouldn't be the case.

Near the latter part of the session, he did a meditation with us. I tried to focus, but he was just too funny. He had us visualize a rose and a moment later, told us to shoot at it and made this laser-like sound effect. Then he commented on how the sound effect really sells it. I started chuckling again and every time he made the sound, I started laughing, though not too loudly as I knew others were trying to concentrate. I kinda wished I'd been able to get something more out of the meditation, but laughter is a good thing as well. The lady next to me said she was going to be doing an all-day with Tamura on Monday. I began to toy with the idea of skipping out on Neale and seeing him as well.

For the dinner break, I ate at an on-site restaurant called Harry Carey's with two of the women I'd met. As we waited to get a table, I noticed the man in charge of reservations had a bunch of cuts on his face. I asked him if he was in a fight or if his wife had thrown him down the stairs. He said the marks weren't from a fight, but that he did look pretty beat up some time ago when he tried to stop his wife from falling down some stairs and wound up tumbling down them instead. One of the ladies asked how I knew that his wife had caused him to have such injuries, if I was an intuitive. I said that I didn't know that, that I always asked people that look like they'd been in a fight if their spouse had caused it. She said she admired how I said the things that she thought, but wouldn't typically think of actually saying.

The other lady we were with was still buzzing over having seen Gregg Braden who spoke of 2012. She elucidated on how the Mayan calendar was set up so that mighty big things would be happening on December 21, 2012. I don't really believe that malarkey, but found a good way to make a joke about it. I said, "Well, if Sarah Palin were to be elected President in November of 2012, then the world ending the following month wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing." She didn't laugh too heartily at that one. Perhaps I offended.

The last speaker of the night was James Van Praagh, a somewhat vertically-challenged psychic who referred to himself as a "small medium at large". He gave a quick run-down on how he became aware of his powers before spending most of the time giving readings for spirits he was seeing in the room. This was another guy who made me laugh a number of times not least when he was giving a reading and said, "Hold on a moment while I take a sip of this vod, uh, coffee". In most cases, he was dead-on with what he was relaying to those who'd lost loved ones.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 2

I woke up at around 3am on Friday morning. Only about 3 and a half hours until I had to get up for my all-day conference with Brian Weiss, the psychiatrist who stumbled upon what was apparently a patient's past life more than 20 years ago. I went back to bed hoping I could get some quality sleep and did. I stepped into the shower at around 7 and moaned with pleasure and not because I was touching myself. I felt like I hadn't taken a shower in many days, so it really hit the spot. Before leaving the hotel room, I had a couple small snacks to tide me over until lunch; a small can of Low Sodium V8 and a Cherry Nutri-Grain bar. I also put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door though this hotel's version simply said "Tranquility", a nice touch, I thought.

I headed downstairs to the registration area. Once I received my materials, I got in line for the Weiss seminar. I met people over the weekend who didn't care where they sat, but, by God, I was gonna do all I could to get seats as close to these authors as possible. I worked on USA Today's crossword puzzle as I waited in line. We were let in around 8:30 and I scrambled to the front finding a seat in the very first row and just off to the left. When Brian came out to speak, the lights were so dim that a woman in the front row said, later in the day, that she was having problems listening as she couldn't really see his face. She must've been a visual learner. To give you an idea of what I'm talking about, here's a pic of the lady who introduced Weiss:



Weiss explained that morning how he was very scientifically grounded all those years ago as a psychiatrist, but was thrown for a loop with a female patient. You see, she had a number of phobias, not least being a fear of drowning. Weiss sought to get to the source of this fear through regression hypnotism. He kept going further back in time until the woman was about 2 or 3, but still couldn't find a reason for the fears. It was quite by accident that one afternoon, he asked her to go to the source of those fears and it was then that she described what appeared to be a past lifetime. She wound up going through several of these lives and after a time, was healed of her neurosis. He did similar work with other patients and has regressed thousands. He's even regressed patients into future lives, something that boggles the mind.

We ended the morning by doing a regression session. I wasn't able to get anything, but this was no surprise as it takes an unquiet mind to typically do so. It took Weiss three months before he was able to have his own experience. We broke for lunch just after noon and I headed for a small ballroom where a "light buffet" (if that isn't an oxymoron, I don't know what is) was being served. Turned off by the paucity of food, though I prefer light lunches, anyway, I opted to go back to the hotel room where I had a Weight Watchers chocolate cookie and decided I was going to eat at the Subway at the mall once the all-day ended at 4. I also said goodbye to my beloved as she was going to be picked up by her brother-in-law in a matter of moments.

As I walked back to where Weiss' workshop was happening, I noticed a lady outside trying to light a cigarette. It was extremely windy out and she was having trouble doing so. I laughed aloud as I saw this. Then, instead of continuing on my way, I went back to watch the resolution. She tried lighting it again, no dice. I'm thinking, "Lady, have you ever heard of God giving one a sign?" She finally got up and put herself into a corner next to the door and had "success" at last. With a smile on my face, I returned to the workshop.

During the afternoon, we exchanged items with the person next to us in order that we might be able to see things based on the object's energy. I gave my mobile device to a college girl while she gave me a necklace to hold. I didn't really get anything nor did she. She did mention seeing a bow tie, something I wore on my wedding day, of course. Others in the room did pick vibes up, however. Of more note were how some of the lights behind Weiss would go off and on from time to time, at one point, in particular, when the origin of God was being discussed. The light man said he had nothing to do with it, that he was mostly away from the light board when these things were occurring. It didn't happen at all for the rest of the weekend.

Weiss opened the room up for questions later and someone asked about dogs having past lives. Weiss said they definitely have souls as they are frequently mentioned in people's descriptions of heaven. He added that he didn't know if dogs evolved up or down. I laughed out loud as my Pomeranian evolving to a human would be a step down in my mind, what with the unconditional love and happiness I believe she's experiencing as a canine.

Once 4pm arrived, Weiss signed his books.



I had a paperback of his first book that I had him sign. I couldn't really think of anything to say to him, so just said, "Thanks".

I then left the hotel and walked three blocks to the mall. Once at the food court, I ordered a six-inch chicken breast sub. This would be one of the only times during the weekend that I would see children; for some reason, parents don't like spending $500 for their kids to advance spiritually.

As I headed back to the hotel, I noticed their revolving door and opted to do something I like to do for fun on such occasions. Instead of just pushing the door half a revolution to get in, I swung it to go in, then kept pushing till I was outside again, and then one more time to get back in. No one seemed to notice it this time, but that's life.

After taking a rejuvenating bath in the early evening, I headed back downstairs to get in line for Marianne Williamson. As opposed to Weiss' pre-conference seminar which consisted of a little over a hundred people, Williamson' talk would go out to over a thousand. I'd seen her speak two years before, so it wasn't as big a priority to get close seats.

As I waited in line, instead of keeping to myself, I decided to speak to others near me. There was an older lady behind me who I looked at and said, "You ready for the weekend?" Those five words would end up introducing me to three women who I wound up spending much of the rest of the weekend with. They became instant friends and the four of us sat together as Marianne spoke.

Williamson had some good stuff, but wasn't quite as interesting as Weiss as her talk was more informational, not so much experiential. I had to chuckle near the end when she led the group in a prayer for the oil spill. I'm of the mind that all is for the highest good, so don't typically pray for things to go a certain way. As far as I'm concerned, the greater the damage, the more likely that they'll be a change in how we treat the environment. Once concluded, I headed up to get my book signed and merely said, "Thank you" as Williamson signed my "Return to Love" book, the first spiritual work I read back in the early 90's.

It was now time to hit another restaurant I'd never been to: White Castle. Just as I was inspired to go to Popeye's because of a movie, the same held for White Castle because of the "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle" film. I was on top of the world as I entered the restaurant. I went up to the cashier and said, "It's my first time here. What do you recommend?" She said that they're known for their burgers, so I ordered a combo which consisted of 4 sliders, a fry, and a pop.

As my meal was being prepared, I asked the cashier if she'd seen the Harold & Kumar movie and mentioned that they were making Part III a Christmas movie and in 3-D. I said that it was gonna be "off the hook". Just then, I looked over and saw a black man eating his meal and giving me a bit of a look. Is it a faux pas to say "off the hook" if you're white?

I took my meal to a table and damn, those sliders were quite addicting. So much so that I was tempted to eat all four, but willed myself to stop at three. Here's a pic I took of myself while at the restaurant:



As I drove back to the hotel listening to Tori Amos, all was well.

My 2010 Vacation: Day 1

A week ago today, me and my old lady headed down to Chicago to take separate vacations. I would be staying 4 nights in a fancy hotel while attending a conference called Celebrate Your Life while my beloved would be spending quality time with her only sibling. We left around 10am in my compact Hyundai Elantra. I'd picked out two dozen CD's the day before to pass the time; it's a six hour drive to Chi-town.

As we left MedCity, I wished that there was something more comfortable that I could rest my head against. *insert joke* It took me a minute or two before I realized that there were two pillows in the back; I always bring my own when going out of town. I grabbed the feather one and placed it behind my neck. Ahh, yes. This would do nicely.

It was a brilliant sunny day as we left Minnesota and entered Wisconsin. Wisconsin is quite an interesting name for a state if you think about it. It has both the words "con" and "sin" in it. I hope this is merely a coincidence.

A couple hours later, my wife said she'd like to stop for a quick bite, so we found a Subway. She initially wanted McDonalds, but I shot her down saying that she could have some junk food that evening. My wife had a six-inch and then took a breather. We were now more than halfway to our destination.

I'd told myself over the past few days that I wanted this vacation to last. None of this crap about how the vacation had flown by. Many times for me, the first day or two will go by nice and slow, then will pick up steam (kinda like what older people say their experience of life is in general).

We headed back to the car and continued on. Knowing that Illinois is a toll state, we'd gotten several dollars worth of change to give to the toll attendants as we steadily made our way into the Land of Lincoln.



Some of the stops have actual people manning them, others have a little container that you throw your money in. A number of years ago, there was a toll booth attendant stationed at her post and I actually threw the money at her. I quickly said I was sorry, that I was so used to doing this on prior occasions that I couldn't stop my arm from making the familiar motion.

We'd been warned that there was some significant road construction taking place in Illinois and finally hit it mid-afternoon. There were moments when we weren't moving at all, but I took it in stride. The first seminar wasn't taking place until the following morning.

We arrived at our destination, the Westin hotel, at around 5pm. We checked in and by that time, were ready for some non-healthy food. One of the joys of going to Illinois this time was trying out some restaurants that I'd never been to. The one I was most looking forward to checking out was Popeye's. Ever since I saw Adam Sandler's "Little Nicky" in 2000, in which he said that Popeye's was "fucking awesome", I'd wanted to experience its pleasures.



Before entering the eatery, I went to a trash can to throw out an empty bottle when I noticed the weekend paper in there. Always up for getting new reading material, I dug it out and went in to place my order. We each ended up ordering a two piece with corn on the cob. I'd been told the week before that Popeye's chicken was better than KFC's, but had difficulty believing it. Well, turns out they were right. The skin was heavenly and I'd not had corn in quite some time, perhaps because it looks the same going out as coming in.

Before heading back to the hotel, we stopped at the local mall where my girl got a frappucino from Caribou Coffee. Once back in our fifth floor room, I began unpacking and took a bath while reading the latest book I'd checked out from the library, "Kick Me". Thirty minutes later, I put my robe on and headed to the bed. *edited for content* We went to bed after that. I hoped I'd be able to get enough sleep to not be tired the next day. There are few things worse than spending mucho money on an experience and not being able to enjoy it.

A Peculiar Occurence

I returned from my yearly vacation to Chicago the night before last and have much to say about it, but until I do, let me share an interesting thing that happened just before I left town.

Last Wednesday afternoon, I went downstairs to change the cat box and noticed a bunch of ants near it. I can't stand killing any kind of creatures; Today, in fact, there was a moth in the house. As is typical for me in such situations, I grabbed a paper towel and gently wrapped it around the moth before letting it fly out the deck door. Unfortunately, I couldn't see any practical way to do this for the number of ants I was seeing downstairs. So, with a heavy heart, I smushed them.

A little bit later, and I'm not saying the two events are connected, I felt some pain in my chest. I laid down for a bit and, after some time, it passed. That evening, I went out to eat with my girl and a couple friends. As we waited for our food, my beloved asked what the red marks were on my neck. I said they were probably from shaving. She said, "I don't think so". I forgot about it and enjoyed my meal once it came.

Later, as I began to pack various sundries for our trip, I glanced at the mirror and noticed what my love had saw earlier. There were three red marks, each several inches long, on the side of my neck:



In addition, there were two or three similar marks on my upper chest. I wondered if they could have come from the cat or dog, but the cat doesn't have any claws and the dog being able to leave long marks like that without me knowing just doesn't make any sense. So what could it have been? Were the marks and the chest pain related? I certainly upset somebody. There's no question about that.

How I Spend My Days

The day before yesterday, I was walking around the lake with a couple friends and noticed a gal and two guys coming our way; the boys were carrying fishing poles. I thought of a good line and as they passed, said, "You guys got big poles". One laughed, the other said, "Thanks" and the woman said, "I think they're compensating for something".

Yesterday, I went to Great Clips for a haircut. As I waited for one of the "stylists" to come up to the front to take my name, I noticed a small whiteboard and marker next to the cash register. While the other girls were busy giving haircuts (one said someone would be with me in a moment), I wrote "All Haircuts $7.99" (their regular price is $13.00). The lady who came up a minute later told me it'd be about a 20 minute wait. She didn't notice the whiteboard. Ten minutes later, another woman was checking a guy out and saw what I'd done. She laughed and said, "Yeah, right" as she scribbled it out.

Today, I purchased gas from the local convenience store. The bloke who checked me out was very distinguished-looking and appeared to be in his 60's. He was also really polite, the kind who would go above and beyond for his customer. As he took my check, I asked, "Are you the CEO?" He said, "No" and I replied, "Oh, I thought this might be one of those undercover things".

ER

I passed a number of patients on gurneys as I walked just to the left and behind the hospital employee. She led me to an open area which had space for about six patients. She pointed me to a spot and opened the curtain a bit where I saw the lady who I first met 14 years ago this summer.

She was conscious, but had a neck brace on. I don't know about you, but it's not a pretty sight to see a loved one in such a contraption. A couple nurses were asking her about the level of pain she was experiencing. She was throwing out numbers like 7 and 8. I noticed some bruises, or burns perhaps, on each of her hands. It was then that she was able to tell me a bit about what had happened.

She had just purchased a combo meal from Mickey D's (with a chocolate shake, no less) and was on her way home. She was stopped at an intersection. When the light turned green, she accelerated and was immediately sideswiped by an SUV (my wife was in a sedan). The airbag immediately deployed, but she was able to get over to the side of the road so that no one else could hit her. She gave a brief report to police before being sent to the hospital.

When the nurses completed their assessment, my girl was shipped off to Radiology where she was to get X-ray'd from head to toe. I spent the time reading a book called "Leaving the Saints". It's about a woman who quit being a Mormon when her definition of God exceeded that of the church, not to mention because she'd been abused as a child by her father, a prominent Latter-Day Saint.

She returned about 30 minutes later and we waited for the results of the scan. The nurse said she had something for the pain my wife was experiencing; it was something called Tordol. The RN said the potion would work faster if the needle was put into her upper thigh. She said it was gonna hurt as she stuck it in. As my girl grimaced, I said, "It'll be worth it".

A short time later, I headed for the bathroom and noticed an Asian lady spraying some aerosol into a restroom. I commented, "That's your favorite part of the job, isn't it?" She smiled. I also stopped by the gift shop for a few minutes where I got a blast from the past. They had a number of Invisible Ink books called Yes and Know.



I remember my mom buying them for me as a kid to give me something to do on road trips. I was tempted to buy one, but felt it could wait, happy enough at the memories that it brought back.

As I returned to the room where my love had been placed, I noticed that she was stationed in Acute Care as opposed to Critical Care. No wonder I hadn't heard anyone screaming; I was in the boring section. "Grey's Anatomy" wouldn't have lasted six eps if they'd focused on those in this area.

My wife's tests came back and she had no breaks. The worse injury she sustained (other than having to see my ass for at least a few years more) was a strained ligament in her right thumb. This and the burns she sustained were actually from the airbag deployment. She was fitted with some new-fangled device called an airbrace. Damn, her injuries came about from the airbag and now she was supposed to be healed by an airbrace. Well, I guess if air caused the injuries, it would only be appropriate that it be used to heal them. She was discharged about an hour later and all was well.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to the shop where her car is at to pick up some items that she might need (sunglasses, garage door opener, Backstreet Boys CD) as it's ascertained whether the car is totaled or not; most likely, it is. I had to chuckle when I saw her McDonalds's combo still sitting on the passenger seat, uneaten. I couldn't resist bringing it home and setting it on the kitchen counter. My wife asked why I did this. All I could do was smile.

The Call

I was getting ready for work yesterday afternoon when I received a call from my wife; she'd been in a car accident, the car was totaled, and she was being ambulated to the local hospital. I said I would be right there. I quickly wondered how badly she'd been injured. The fact that she was speaking was a good sign.

I notified work that I wouldn't be able to come in. I set some food out for the pets not knowing how long I'd be in hospital. Next, I brought along a book that I'd been reading just in case there was gonna be some downtime while there (a quite likely possibility).

As I prepared to leave, I realized that this would be an excellent opportunity to put my spiritual beliefs in action, specifically, that nothing happens that isn't supposed to and that all circumstances are avenues for growth. I was able to stay relatively calm as I drove into the city. I was listening to a prank call CD during the 10-minute drive. I did laugh at one point while listening.

I passed the area where she said the "accident" took place. The police were still questioning people and I saw her car parked on the side of the road with a number of owies (the "mishap" happened just 9 blocks from the hospital). I found an above-the-ground parking spot and walked to the ER as the sun brightly shone. I walked in and waited in line to speak to an ER attendant.

A few minutes later, I gave an older hospital employee my wife's name. She said that her name hadn't shown up yet. A minute later, she said that it had, but that no room had been assigned for her yet. She told me to wait a few minutes and I would be called when a room was ready. I was a tad nervous, but mostly placid knowing that what happened had happened (that's what they say on "Lost") and that there were only two ways in which to deal with the aftermath: either with fear or with love. It was just then that my bowels released.

Kidding. I headed over to a computer and thought of a website to visit while I waited. It took a good minute before I settled on Facebook. I was tempted to go to my wife's page and write "---- ---- was in a car accident", but thought better of it. I took a look at my Facebook news feed and found some relatively inconsequential statuses, so headed to my favorite movie website. Just then, the older lady said that my wife's room had been assigned and, after giving me a visitor pass, led me there.

Eating Turkey Makes You Sleepy

I browsed through a book yesterday called "Don't Swallow Your Gum! - Myths, Half-Truths, and Outright Lies About Your Body and Health". It debunks a number of common misconceptions that many people hold to be true.

One is that we only use 10 percent of our brain. If this were true, it would not be a big deal to hurt various parts of your brain. In reality, you will be affected by damaging almost any region of your noggin.

Another is that you should shit (or poop, for the more sensitive among us) at least once a day. Constipation is actually defined as having less than three movements in a week. This reminds of something amusing I witnessed at a psych ward a number of years ago. I was visiting a patient there on a regular basis and each evening, the patient would be asked if they'd had a bowel movement that day. Some of the nurses would just go up the person and say, "Did you....?" Talk about embarassing, for both parties, I gather.

Course, we all know that cold weather doesn't make one sick. Vitamin C was also debunked at being able to keep a cold at bay. Another classic is that men think about sex every seven seconds which is patently ridiculous. This would translate to thinking about sex over 57,000 times a day. That's about as many times as a person breathes while awake. Someone thinking about sex that much would be incapable of performing any other tasks.

There is also a persistent belief that eating at night makes you fat because it doesn't give you any time to burn off those calories before going to bed.



I know this isn't a truism as I eat the bulk of my calories after 9pm. I have several food items, in fact, every night just before going to bed; typically a Smart Ones pizza, a couple Oreo Cakesters, some chips, and a Nutri Grain bar.

Time Well Spent

There are those who say that life would be better if we didn't have to sleep, that those extra eight hours could be spent in much more fulfilling ways. I am not one of those people. The dreams I had last night should shed plenty of light on why this is the case.

In the first sequence, I was walking on some steps in the early evening and started talking to a lady whom I worked with about ten years ago. She began talking to a woman who I recognized from junior high and it was just then that I noticed a lady who I'd had a crush on as a 12-year old (She was now a late 30's adult). She was making her rounds for the night which consisted of skiiing over various hills to get to her work location.

Imagine my joy when she asked me to accompany her. The two of us talked as we headed to her work site. Once there, she showed me the task she'd been assigned. It involved melting ice blocks with some type of torch. She asked if I was interested in a similar vocation. I declined, but mentioned how much fun it had been to spend time together. Waking up, it really felt like we had chatted each other up and made a connection, something that's not very plausible in the real world.

On my next sojourn, I was outside the house of worship that I went to as a child. Someone asked me to come in, but I was a bit nervous. I somehow knew that it was 1986 and by that time, I was no longer involved in the organization. Just then, I said to myself, "It's not 1986, it's 1984!"



(Yes, that is Steve Jobs pictured above)

With my conscience soothed, I entered the building and talked with a number of people I hadn't seen in quite some time.

The last stop was a house in which I was able to spend some time with my Saint Bernard, Brandy, the one who passed five years ago this summer. I got to hold her, squeeze her, whisper in her ears. It was all very real to me and, therefore, easy to understand why I woke up in such a good mood.

If I was given an extra eight hours to spend each day, it would most likely be spent in front of various rectangular devices (the TV, the internet, cell phone). Those kinds of things are a poor substitute, in my mind (pun intended), to experiencing lifelong dreams come true in my dreams.

Cool Explosions & The End of Suffering

Because of my high-school fainting spells, I had to steer clear of Biology classes in college. That didn't leave a lot of options when it came to getting my science classes in. I took a couple classes in Geology in my first year or two of college, but it was awfully dry (pun intended).

I heard through the grapevine that there was an older dude who taught Chemistry and actually made it fun (I was only able to pass Chemistry in high school because of the ridiculously generous curve Mr Johnson gave us). Word was that he was quite humorous and had really cool small explosions that he enlightened the class with. The name of the course was Chemistry Appreciation. I decided that if I got in over my head, I could just drop the class.

On the first day, I found a seat and waited for the professor to appear. Just then, there was a burst of smoke at the front of the room and he appeared amidst it. I felt like I was at Hogwarts, if it had been invented back then, that is. Oh, who am I kidding? He arrived like every other prof usually does.

The first day of classes is always interesting in that you never know if the teachers will be a joy to learn from or insufferable bores that will be a slog to make it through the quarter with (Semesters weren't adopted until a couple years after I graduated). Fred Foss had a great sense of humor and must've been in his late 60's or higher. He said that he planned to live a LONG time, that the best revenge is to outlive others. He mentioned that there were strategies one could use to help make this possible, not least of them, whiskey and a broad.



Seriously, he said that he'd not been sick in many years and one of the reasons he believed this was so is because of the high amount of vitamin C he ingested every morning. Back then, I caught a cold or flu at least a few times a year, so was more than willing to give his suggestion a try. I wound up buying a bottle of vitamin C that had 500mg tablets, significantly higher than what the FDA recommended (I believe Foss took an even higher dose).

Time passed and Mr. Foss performed many of the tricks, I mean, illusions, I mean experiments that I'd heard about. He made Chemistry more fun than I thought possible. And as the months passed, I did, indeed, get sick much less frequently: It should also be noted that I never get the flu shot.

When I hear that others are suffering with a cold or the flu, I sometimes opine that it wouldn't hurt for them to up their intake of vitamin C. It mostly falls on deaf ears. I'm not sure if they don't believe that it will work or are just of the mind that suffering is next to Godliness, but I always shake my head when I hear that there are bugs going around as they never seem to strike me.

Forgive Me, Father, For I Have Sinned

Have you ever done something that you know you shouldn't (like looking at the reflection of your ass in the toilet bowl)? One afternoon in the early 90's, I was walking on 3rd Street in my hometown. I passed a phone booth (remember those?) and something caught my eye. I turned around and went into the booth. There was a wallet inside. I took a look around to make sure no one was watching and opened it. There was more than one hundred dollars inside!

I looked at the guy's ID. He was a twenty something college student. He must've called for a ride the night before and was so wasted that he forgot his wallet. The wheels started turning in my head. I knew I shouldn't, but decided that if I could get away with it, I would. I was most afraid that someone might be watching me, so hesitated for a minute or two. Finally, I decided to go for it. I took da moolah out of the wallet and put it into my pocket. I got an adrenaline rush and walked relatively quickly back home.

I got home and looked at the cash. This was extra money. I could do anything I wanted with it. I mostly treated myself with it, went out to eat, bought cassettes. I assume the wallet itself eventually found its way back to its owner (I just left it there). If that happened to me now, I'd turn both the money and the wallet in to the police or place an ad in the paper (remember those?). Back then, however, I was a poor, somewhat morally compromised college boy. Sometimes I miss those days.

Ambiguity

I just finished reading Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert, a tome on why it is that we tend to suck so hard at predicting what will make us happy. One of the many interesting things I read in the book had to do with events that we can't make sense of:

"If an event defies explanation, it becomes an mystery or conundrum and if there's one thing we all know about mysterious conundrums, it is that they generally refuse to stay in the back of our minds. Filmmakers and novelists often capitalize on this fact by fitting their narratives with mysterious endings, and research shows that people are, in fact, more likely to keep thinking about a movie when they can't explain what happened to the main character. And if they liked the movie, this morsel of mystery causes them to remain happy longer."

Two of my favorite movies from last year (A Serious Man & Up In The Air) had endings in which I didn't know what was to become of the main character (Up In The Air's ending was just that), but did I chastise the movie screen for this?




Nope, it only added to the allure. Another fave, 2002's Unfaithful with Richard Gere, ended with Gere in his SUV in front of a police station contemplating if he was going to turn himself in for an accidental murder or leave the state with his family.

Sometimes I try to fill in the blanks and say what I believe the character wound up doing. Other times, I just smile and say, "Hey, that's the way life is sometimes". Like the author says, these types of endings almost always cause me to think more about the film than I typically would. I'm aware that there are those who get frustrated by unresolved denouements. My advice to them is to stay the hell away from indie films and stick with the lowest-common-demoninator stuff.

Love & Joy on a Spring Evening

The time has come for me to discuss the concert I went to last month (this was where I saw the TV monitors that were placed over the urinals; I wonder if the women has these as well or if they were shit outta luck). Way back in 1993, I was friends with a cool girl named Candy; it was platonic, she had a boyfriend at the time. While visiting at her apartment one evening, she placed a cassette in the stereo she had. It was by the Indigo Girls.



Back then, I was exclusively into country music, but something about these two dames and their silly folk music appealed to me, so it wasn't long before I bought the cassette myself.

A couple months ago, I was in the break room at work and saw that the Girls were gonna be in town in late April. I was not at all familiar with their music post 2002, but after thinking about it some, decided that I'd like to see them if I could get reasonably good seats. Tickets were to go on sale Friday morning, but I was working that day. What to do?

I noticed on Ticketmaster's website that there would be a special pre-sale for radio station listeners. I headed to the station's site and got the password. The pre-sale had been going on for about an hour already, but surely the seats still open would be better than what would be available on Friday. I was able to get a seat in the 9th row on the floor. Not bad. Being Ticketmaster, there were a shitload of fees, but hey, it's better than going downtown and getting them.

A couple years after I got into the Girls, I found out they were lesbians. Some chick in a college newspaper had mentioned this. For years, I thought they were a couple until I recently found out that they have other partners, not each other.

It was so nice to be going to a concert in town, no driving to the Minneapolis area. I knew there would be a lot of women at the show, probably some lesbians as well. As I prepared to enter the concert hall, I saw my old psychiatrist, Dr. Smick; she had started prescribing me happy pills in 1993, the same year that I first got into the Indigo Girls. This is what Carl Jung would call a synchronicity. I guess it pays to be a doctor as she had front row seats. I also noticed a lady in the front row who used to be a co-worker of mine. She said one day, a couple years ago, that she'd seen the Girls in the Twin Cities the night before. She was a repeat offender.

Overall, there were about 2 girls for every guy there. In the lobby, there was some kind of thing that one could sign up for to get a GLAAD-type publication. And, indeed, there were quite a number of gals who favored the fairer sex there. As the show progressed, a lady in front of me put her arm around the woman next to her. On my left, a young woman put her hands on the lap of the lady she'd come with. Whenever the Indigo's alluded to being gay, there was a cheer that came forth from the balcony as if to say, GirlPower!! (here's a link to illustrate what I'm talking about). This, I thought, is the way it should be, people expressing who they are and loving whomever they wish.

Who Wants To Be A Millionaire

I talked to a man last night who is of retirement age. He mentioned that he makes less than $25,000 a year. My first thought was, "Wouldn't it be nice if he had a little more money to have at his disposal in his twilight years?", but then realized that there are very few things that one truly needs to live a fulfilling life.



The person making $100,000 a year in their 60's may have a nicer bedroom set and a kick-ass TV, but I would think that, at that age, the most precious resource is time. Time to just put one's feet up, relax, maybe have a Cristal. Many of us spend a lot of time thinking of ways to maximize the amount of money we have saved for retirement, but regardless, we all have our social security money to fall back on, not to mention medicare for our health needs (U.S. residents only).

In our pre-retirement days, we seek to save as much as we can, but once we hit 65 or 67, do we still keep it up? Do we assume that we're going to make it to 85? There are many who pass mere months after they retire. How much do we want to risk leaving on the table? You gotta feel for the rich folks. There's something's wrong with a person dying with more than a million dollars to their name. They either forgot that you can't take it with you or thought they were gonna live forever.

How I Got Into Blogging

One afternoon, in the summer of 2006, I was hanging out at movie critic Harry Knowles' website Aint It Cool News. I'd been a faithful fan of his since the dawn of the millenium.



In one of his postings, he mentioned that his thoughts could also be found at a place called MySpace. Curious, I headed over there, but was a tad disheartened when I read that one must be a member in order to go to other members' sites (This may not be the case any longer).

Wanting to check HisSpace out, I answered a few questions and created MyOwnSpace (alright, I'll stop with the puns). Once a member, I read some of his material which was interesting, but certainly not earth-shaking. I then toyed with the thought of getting some mileage out of my own account, so posted some random thoughts on one of my favorite subjects, movies; in this particular instance, films that were being released that summer (you can read it here).

A day later, I wrote eight sentences about the wonders of the Sonicare toothbrush. I started a regular series in which I discussed my favorite movie of every year, starting with 1980. About a month later, I logged onto MySpace to post another probably movie-related entry and was surprised to find that my content had apparently been erased. Yikes! A few hours later, it was back, but a bit frightened by what had happened, I decided to migrate to a forum more conducive to blogging. Blogger.com more than fit the bill and I've been there ever since. My writing has certainly evolved over the years; I shudder at times to read some of my early posts.

One of the first entries to really make me aware of the therapeutic nature of writing and being able to share it with the world was called "Rollingstone", an account of a trip I took in the early aughts to the grade school I attended as a child (for the full entry, click here). Below are a couple of my favorite sections of it; the first dealing in humor, the second in pathos, two components which I continue to rely upon as we approach the halfway point of 2010.

"I walked into the old gym where I used to play M*A*S*H (dodgeball) and eat lunch from my "Empire Strikes Back" lunchbox. It was the damnest thing. The whole building seemed smaller to me. The school had shrunk over the past two decades. Yeah, right. Of course this was because when I attended the school, I was a bit shorter. Now having grown to my full height, everything seemed smaller when, in fact, it was me that had gotten bigger (in more ways than one, well, not really)."

"I headed back down the steps and left the building, a building where I had spent so many hours of my formative years. I took one last look, wistfully recalling those days that seem like a lifetime ago. I got into my car and headed back to my life in Rochester, a life that I quite enjoy, but please excuse me if sometimes I wish I could go back to where it all began, when everything was new, and happiness was going to follow me for the rest of my days."

Smarty Pants

I'm in the midst right now of reading A.J. Jacobs' book "The Know-It-All", an account of his endeavor to read the entire encyclopedia (several dozen pages of it can be viewed here). He mentions the fact that a high IQ is strongly correlated with being able to stand on one foot. I probably wouldn't be bringing this up were it not for the fact that I am able to do this.

The bummer is that there is really only one opportunity I regularly get in which to show this off; not then, you dirty devils. It occurs when one of my shoes is untied. Instead of having to bend down on the ground, like most people, I, while still standing, cross the leg whose shoe is untied across my other leg and string my moccasin up properly.



It'd be cool, if at singles mixers, there was a part at the beginning where everyone was told to stand on one foot. Ladies and gents looking for a highly intelligent lifetime partner could really cut to the chase.

Philosophical Ponderings on Local Vegetation

It's an interesting sight on my block. Some folks have perfectly manicured grass, just grass with no other vegetation. Others have a shitload of dandelions amongst the green stuff. One of my favorite childhood memories is smelling one in my backyard one afternoon.



The sun was bright and the lion was the color of that sun.

I was surprised recently to hear that dandelions are considered a weed. The next door neighbor regularly sprays for such "weeds", killing them without hesitation. It all seems a bit racist to me. Both grass and lions are living things, but only the grass is considered worthy of life? There's no question I have a little Buddhist in me, well, more than a little, hopefully.

You can imagine my distress earlier this week on learning that my wife and a friend had set out to kill the dandelions and other weeds we have in the front yard. I told her not to do this again, but that if she must, to spare the dozens that we have in the back yard (I felt like Oscar Schindler trying to save as many Jews as he possibly could, but knowing that for many others, it was much too late).

Bathroom Humor

I went to a concert in town a couple nights ago (I'll give more details on it at a later date) and was amused, when in the civic center's bathroom, to see a small TV above each urinal. It mainly showed advertisements (the kind of thing you see before movies start), but they posted the telly's too high to comfortably view them while eliminating. A man and his son were there at the same time as I and noted this. I can't stand being a captive to advertising, so lowered my head as I let loose.

I thought of how cool it would be if someone took control of the TV's and played porn on it. All those guys that already had their hands on their junk; would they be tempted to stroke it a bit? Or how about if they just played waterfalls as a way to help those who sometimes have problems getting it started?

They certainly let people who had to go number 2 in the lurch; that, by rights, is where a TV would most be appreciated. Course, that would also make it much easier for guys to go to town if someone ever did show porn on the monitors.

The Sun King

As the weather continues to warm in Minnesota, a greater percentage of people sporting tans can be found, but are they authentic?



Anyone who does a spray tan is faking it. Those who go to a tanning salon are imposters. Even people who lay out in the sun are poseurs of a kind; they're trying too hard. No, I subscribe to the view that a tan should be obtained by doing things like walking outside, playing with the dog, and mowing the lawn. In this way, I'm not trying to get a tan, it's simply a happy side effect of going out for fresh air (see Deepak Chopra's Law of Least Effort). I'm a tad concerned about getting skin cancer, but can't help but love the way a tan brings out my eyes and de-emphasizes my sizable proboscis.

Here I Go Again

Cracked.com has an article online about The 5 Most Socially Awkward Situations Everyone Deals With. I thought it might be fun to go through the list with me chiming in on the times I personally experienced them:

5. Pooping In Public - the closest I've come to this was late at night a few years ago when my wife had to use the bathroom badly at the exact same time I did (we have just one toilet in the house). I tried to wait for her to finish, but it was no good. I had to evacuate. I headed to the kitchen and squatted over the 4-foot wastebasket. Sweet release.

4. Ill-Timed Erections - I remember being in 7th grade Geography class one afternoon and getting a chubby for no reason. I shuddered to think what I'd do if the teacher asked me to pick out a country on the map up front while this was happening...feign a charley horse?



3. Accidental Pissings - I don't have a recollection of this happening to me.

2. Being Propositioned By Another Man - in college, one evening at the computer lab, I met a guy and his girlfriend. A week later, he contacted me and asked if I wanted to get together. I said, “Sure” and we went to a pizza joint. We talked a great deal, got to know each other better. He said sometimes he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be with his girlfriend for the long haul. I said this was normal. He gradually brought up the subject of being attracted to males at times. After our dinner, we headed to my place for a short time. We talked some more and he stated that he’d like to experiment with a man one day to see if that was his actual preference. He strongly implied that he’d like me to be the one, but I said I was hetero and that was that.

(excerpted from a prior post which can be found here)

1. Parental Sexuality - One afternoon, me and a couple of my siblings were lying on the steps that led up to my parents bedroom. They were engaged in something that sounded...interesting. I got the money shot I was looking for when my dad came out of the bedroom, stiff as a board and with a smile on his face, and headed to the bathroom. He had no idea.

Laugh It Up, Fuzzball

There are some days in which I don't laugh at all, so it felt great to get two big ones yesterday afternoon. The first was from a book I'm reading called "The Guinea Pig Diaries". In one of its chapters, a journalist is helping his attractive nanny find a worthy mate online. They get a number of "interesting" replies to her ad, most notably one that opens with this:

"When I was a child, I witnessed a clown jump to his death from a seven-story building. It was the only time a clown has made me laugh."

Shortly thereafter, I read an article about an outburst Tiger Woods had on the golf course last weekend. The piece didn't say exactly what he said, so I headed over to YouTube and this is what I found:



I found it a bit ironic that he said "Goddammit!" as Buddhists (he is a practicing Buddhist) don't necessarily believe in God; they have no creation myth. He might as well have said "Jesse-James-Dammit!" Lord knows he wouldn't be the first.

BTW, the title of this post is a reference to a comment Han Solo made to Chewbacca in "The Empire Strikes Back".

Three Decades Ago

This week, the cover story in Entertainment Weekly is about the 30th anniversary of "The Empire Strikes Back", the second tale in the Star Wars saga.

I was 9 years old that summer and not at all familiar with the Star Wars movies; my parents didn't take us to the original in 1977. Around about that time, however, we went to "The Bad News Bears", but my father, not liking the crude language, walked us out and then talked to the manager about the lack of movies suitable for young children.

It was thanks to a fellow Jehovah's Witness that I would up being witness to one of the most transformative movies of my life. His name was Jim Dembraski and one evening, he was visiting with my dad and the conversation turned to a movie that had quite impressed him. He believed that I, and my father, for that matter, would very much enjoy going to the film. As he described the movie, I looked at my dad and said that it sounded like something worth checking out.

By this time, "Empire" was in about its 7th week of release; back then, movies played much longer than they typically do now. It felt great to be going to a movie with just my mom and dad; keep in mind that I was the oldest of five. My mother sat on my left, my dad on my right.

I don't need to tell you that the movie floored me, millions of others experienced the same that summer. Visions of other worlds (a snow planet, a city in the clouds), Yoda philosophizing on a jungle planet, heroes (Luke, Leia, Han, Chewie, R2, 3PO) that were out of this world, an inspiring operatic music score, the evil Darth Vader who had no qualms about killing his own men, the fight against an oppressive empire, not to mention brilliant (for their time) special effects. It really was totally unlike anything I had ever seen before.

I can remember at one point when Luke was being trained by Yoda, I asked my father what the time was. The light came on on his watch and it showed 8:20. I was a bit surprised that the movie didn't have a clear-cut ending, that it ended in a cliffhanger, but that didn't take away the joy I experienced during those two hours.

I sought to collect everything I could that would remind me of the movie. JCPenney had packs of Empire trading cards for 25 cents. I bought a few packs with my allowance and watched my collection grow. One evening, just before going to bed, knowing that my mom was going to Penneys that night, I gave her 50 cents and asked her to get me two packs. One of the happiest memories of my childhood was waking up the next morning and seeing 4 packs next to my bed;



My mom said that was all that was left in the box at the store and in case they didn't have any more boxes, she wanted me to have the last 4 packs. A number of years ago, I bought 4 unopened packs of the series from eBay and have one displayed on the wall next to our entertainment center. When gazing up at it, I can't help but feel some of the childhood joy I was so fortunately privy to back then.

Some of you might get a chuckle out of this audio recording from 1983: it's me quizzing one of my brothers about the Star Wars saga.

November 2, 1999 - Journal entry

On Friday, I went to Winona to see Arthur and he did not disappoint. We ate at Taco John's where I saw one of my college professors, Donald Salyards. I had two econ classes with him. His favorite saying was, "And here's the kicker..." He wore a personalized apron that said "Dr Don" on it when he was at the chalkboard so as not to get his clothes dirty. I also saw Alvin Smothers; my brothers used to know him.

In the early 90's, one of my younger siblings was outside and saw Alvin on his bike. He knew that Alvin had, shall we see, sexually explicit videos and was interested in having a peek. He barked down the street, "Do some business!!" a number of times. Good fortune smiled upon him as he was able to obtain a vid from Mr. Smothers and watched it...and then watched it again.

One afternoon, he brought the TV into his bedroom to show the vid to a couple of friends in complete privacy (all were pre-pubescent). I listened behind the door and chuckled as one of the friends, partway into the vid, said "Look at her nipples".

After a few months, he destroyed the tape. I think he felt guilty about having it. Like the One Ring, it was corrupting his very soul.

On a related note, Arthur asked me to take him to the adult book and video store that opened in Winona about two weeks ago. I wasn't surprised to see that the videos far outnumbered the books. I told him about the private booths in the back; I had read about them in the paper. I gave him a dollar so that he had five bucks to watch a half hour of any video he wanted.

He chose an "orgy" tape where 20 women waited in line to have sex with one big man. It made me wonder how many women I'd be able to make it through, probably just one. I stepped outside as he went to town. I returned 20 minutes later to see his face beet red. He didn't want to tell his wife about the indiscretion, but was compelled to do so when, much to his chagrin, she wanted to have sex shortly after I dropped him off.

Home

While in the midst of reading Jon Krakauer's classic "Into Thin Air" (about an ill-fated trip to Mount Everest), I'm reminded of how much I appreciate being at home. It was good going to Florida for my honeymoon more than a decade ago, seeing Las Vegas for the first time in 2005, and meeting my favorite author in Oregon at the end of 2008, but I'm at my most peaceful and relaxed when lying in the bedroom peeling my banana (obligatory acknowledgement of my recent, some would say outrageous, last post).

It must be a grand thing, to be able to truly feel at home out in the world. Me, I'd rather have my favorite foods and the shitter just a few feet away. For entertainment, there's the telly, my home computer, and the latest books I've borrowed from the library. For love, there's the dog and cat. For other things, there's the lady of the house.

Too much time at home can lead to a sort of ennui, however. I felt this a bit in January when I had some time off of work. You would think I'd enjoy being able to sleep in, not having to get up early to rush off to work, but after a time, the days start to run together and an overabundance of navel gazing is bound to occur. Also, there's the feeling that one is not really making a difference in the world, not really reaching out to others in a meaningful enough way.

Talking to people online is a joy, but after a while, one begins to wonder if there really are people at the other end, if one is not just imagining that there are sentient beings behind all those words and emoticons. The human touch is a grand thing in the scheme of life, but it is totally unutilized while online though many work to bridge this gap by cybering or in the common parlance, "Spreading the Mayo".

In sum, we all wish to get close to others and it has become my preference to go back and forth, spending some time in solitude and then a period in which I conversate with others, connecting with them, reassuring them, if necessary, that all problems are transitory before heading back to my cave.

Jerking My Johnson

In late 2006, my beloved and I were finally getting serious about having a child. Unable to get her in the family way by normal means, we sought the help of a fertologist. When the gyno found no problems with her equipment, the attention was turned to my own. I didn't look at this as too unusual as two of my siblings had also gotten such help.

Thus an appointment was made in which I would spill my semen. This would be done at the (somewhat) world-renowned Mayo Clinic. A friend suggested that I bring a video as a masturbatory aid, but I had no such thing nor would I buy one for the occasion. Since people do this kind of thing all the time and Mayo is known as one of the best in most all the things they do, I looked forward to using whatever they provided.

I wonder now how those who belong to religions that forbid masturbating get around doing this kind of thing. I guess the desire to multiply trumps such precepts. Course, they could have their wife do it for them, but there's still the issue of the "spilled seed", a no-no in olden days.

Anyway, this lady showed me to my porn booth, I mean, my pleasure room and I started disrobing. I looked around for a rag, but there were none to be found. That's fine, I thought. I've long since moved beyond them. I noticed a TV and VCR/DVD combo up on the wall. There was one DVD in there, but it was a Sports Illustrated swimsuit video. What the fuck?! What do they think I am, 12 years old? No visible tits, ass, vag, rip off!! I'm not sure why Mayo had to be so fucking prudish on this, but whatever, they're not going to get the best of me.

I took the rest of my clothes off and it was going to be up to my imagination to get the deed done. It should be noted that until my mid-20's, I only ever masturbated on my stomach. That's the way I learned it as a kid and I never strayed until I had a girlfriend. I didn't even know it was possible to do it on one's back.

I can remember one evening when I was about 9 or 10 coming home with my family from getting groceries and having the extreme urge to rub one out. I laid on the couch (fully clothed) and started going to work. A minute later, my dad saw me and said in a rather alarmed voice, "What are you doing?" I got up and said, "Nothin". Another time, I did it (clothed again) on my parents bed (the extra space it offered was choice). My mom walked in just a few seconds after I finished. That was a close one.



One evening, afflicted with a bad cold, and sitting at the Kingdom Hall (Jehovah Witnesses' meeting place), I promised myself that I wouldn't do it again (JW's frowned on such things) if I got better. Did I hold to that promise? No, God shouldn't have given me such desires if he didn't want me to do it.

Going back to 2006, it took some time, but I was able to shoot my load after about 12 to 15 minutes. It wasn't easy, but what worthwhile thing is? I'd also like to note that I've never used any kind of lotion when taming the beast. Lotion is for wussies.

Mayo did their analysis and came to the conclusion that my sperm was fine though a bit slow. Why were they slow? Was it my laid-back demeanor or do the sperm actually affect my mood, making me feel that being chill is where it's at? Regardless, if I ever have to give another sample, I will be sure to bring along something that will make me jack it that much faster and more effectively: the 1983 Sears catalog.



I know it's not very explicit, but them 80's girls were HAWT.

Take Time

Sara Maitland's "A Book of Silence" makes note of something that Thoreau mentioned in one of his works, that a man's true wealth can be measured by how much free time he has. What kind of a life is it to spend most of the time working or occupied in other various forms of drudgery (cleaning, mowing the yard, washing one's undercarriage)? Sara says that many times when she is thinking of purchasing something, she'll ask herself, "Am I willing to work X number of hours so that I can afford to buy this?" On most occasions, she'll say no.

Like Thoreau, working 40 hours a week has never really appealed to me; I feel the upper 20's and lower 30's are more appropriate. Working less gives me more time to relax, not that I can't be in a relaxed state while on the job, but it's sometimes difficult, most notably because of the restrictions involved in wearing briefs. And what's the point of having so many nerve endings in the feet when they're all but deadened by wearing shoes? And don't even get me started on wearing ties. I discussed my gripe with those accursed things here.

Here are some more of my favorite quotes by the author of "Walden":



Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?

Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.

If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment.

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.

Most of the luxuries and many of the so-called comforts of life are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.

Our life is frittered away by detail... simplify, simplify.

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.

Charter Part III

Charter Part I
Charter Part II

Damn, it's been more than two years since I last posted about good ol' Charter Communications (our local cable company). One aspect I didn't mention previously was a cool guy I worked with named Soune. He was of Asian descent and I consider myself lucky to have worked with him. We cracked each other up quite a bit.

One of the first things we did when a customer called in was to say, "For security purposes, could I get the last 4 digits of your social?" Many people would have to run through their first 5 digits before getting to the final 4. I used to say stuff to him like, "If I give you 20 bucks, will you give me the last 4 digits of your social?"

We were expected to make sales as often as possible. Soune's game was to get people to sign up for internet (a good moneymaker). He would open the conversation by asking the customer if they owned a PC. Many would say, "What's a PC?"

I ended up leaving because too much of an emphasis was placed on making sales. You could get demerits for not making enough of them. When I gave my notice, I said the primary reason was because I could theoretically be fired for not making enough sales. My supervisor said this wasn't true, but that's the way they made it seem.

I would've loved to see the director of the call center's face when he saw my reason for departure. You just can't treat people like that and expect them to be happy.

Drugs, Alcohol, & Other Fun Stuff

Last week, I was reading comedian Lewis Black's memoir "Me of Little Faith". He shared a number of experiences he had while growing up in the 60's. Needless to say, there were the obligatory drug stories, many of which colored how he feels about the world to this day. One of the main things he felt while under the power of illicit substances was that we are all connected to everyone and everything (the monster "Avatar" proposes the same). Now I believe this to be the case, though I don't typically experience it directly.

Many people will write off the things they feel while on drugs because, well, because they were on drugs, but I'm of the mind that they are capable of opening us up to deeper truths which makes it strange that the government makes depressants like alcohol legal, but not less potentially destructive substances like marijuana. I've never tried the stuff myself, but I can certainly see the appeal.

Of course, there are other ways that one can feel this oneness, meditation in particular, but I'm so lazy that I'd rather do it laying down instead of sitting up which leads in most cases to drifting off to sleep as opposed to achieving ultimate spiritual creaminess. Black's not much different, stating that he'd rather masturbate than meditate, that both lead to the same conclusion, anyway.

Holy Shit

Last Tuesday was the best of days and the worst of days. Things got off to a great start with a sizable bowel movement, but just before I had to take my wife to an appointment, I noticed that blood had been in my stool. I quickly headed to the internet and found that it could be a number of things: an anal fissure, hemorroids, colon cancer.

I told my wife about it as we drove to her appointment. She said to keep an eye on it, that she hoped it wasn't colon cancer (a first cousin of mine who is in his early 30's was diagnosed with that a few years ago). My love is no stranger to stool blood herself as she has GERD. I passed my time at the library while she was being seen. Curiousity got the better of me while there, so I headed to the cancer section and found a book about the colon variety of it. Standing there, reading the symptoms, I started to get a bit woozy; I once fainted in science class when a teacher was giving a detailed description of something (You can read it about here).

I realized that I best sit down for a while, so headed over to a seat and slumped down a bit. I then looked into checking out some books that wouldn't make me lightheaded. One was Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer. It's about the beginnings of a distinctly American religion, Mormonisn.



It's interesting how Joseph Smith, the religion's founder, proposed that we all could receive revelations from God. However, he came to realize that this might not be a good thing as what happens when his revelations differed from others? What if mine says that he's a charlatan? He had to change things up a bit because of this. And that, my friends, is the main problem with religion. You are to trust in someone else's revelations over your own. If your experience is different than church leadership's, yours must be thrown out.

But back to my experience last Tuesday. As I sat in the car, waiting for my wife to finish up, I thought that maybe this blood would end up being the death of me, that I wouldn't be able to take care of my Pomeranian for the rest of her life, that I might have to leave this mortal coil before Sarah Palin gains even more power than she already has. Should I have gotten checked out earlier for cancer as my mom had once suggested?

That evening at work, I wondered if my next BM would be red. Interestingly, thinking this really kept me in the moment, really made me concentrate on what I was doing just then. I wasn't concerned about getting my taxes done or going on vacation this summer. I was just concentrating on the next day or two, the next time I dropped some friends off at the pool.

Later that week, I did make a shit. There was no sign of red and hasn't been since. It would seem that the monster I passed led to a bit of a fissure that did no lasting damage. Nonetheless, I look forward to having my first colonoscopy in the near future. The age of 40 looms and will come to me in the penultimate month of this year.

1998-2010

For the past 12 years, my favorite meal to eat at home has been the Healthy Choice Supreme French Bread Pizza.



In the late 90's, I'd come home for lunch, put it in the microwave, and while heading towards the TV, would throw a couple pepperoni pieces at the first dog I ever had, Zoe. This continued with Zoe 2 who came along in 2004 (her predecessor passed in 2000).

I typically have one of the pizzas every evening. There are some nights when I don't have one, but those are the exceptions to the rule. I figure I've eaten thousands of them, which means I've spent thousands of dollars on them.

In the latter part of last year, the pizzas, for some reason, were no longer available at Wal-Mart. That left Hy-Vee as the only place I could buy them (Target stopped stocking them a number of years ago). Then last month, an employee at Hy-Vee told me that the factory was going to stop making them. I bought a large number of them when I got this news, but knew the time had come to find a new favorite.

Two days ago, I went to Hy-Vee in seach of a replacement. "You'll find something", I told myself. Lean Cuisine used to make pizzas such as the Healthy Choice type, but the taste was rubbish. I did notice a new brand called Eating Right (made exclusively by Hy-Vee). They had pizzas in a square shape as opposed to oval, but the calorie and fat content was similar. They were also a bit more expensive than HC ($2.49 compared to $1.99). I decided that it was the closest to what I'd become accustomed to.

That evening, I was actually excited about giving them a try and they did not disappoint. I look forward to stocking up on them this evening. In my freezer, I still have 4 packages of the original HC's. I'll save them for special occasions over the next few months (the date on the packages have already passed). I will eat them slowly and mindfully, knowing that nothing on this earth is forever.

Fun Facts About Yours Truly

My birth weight was 7 pounds, 10 ounces

I lived in Greece for my first three years

Foods I didn't like as an infant: Barley, Veal, Spinach

At 28 months, I was saying things like "Daddy poo-poo fart" and "I don't want it"

The first movie I went to was "Dumbo"

One of my favorite songs as a toddler was the O'Jays' "Love Train"

As a 5-year old, I enjoyed playing Yahtzee, Old Maid, and Candy Land

At the age of 7, I got lost at Milwaukee's County Stadium, even though I knew exactly where my family was sitting (for the juicy details, go here)

Sleep

I woke up this morning in an extremely good mood. I dreamt that I had a conversation with a woman who I went to grade school with. It was very friendly and she wound up giving me a kiss on the cheek. Since I now had her trust, I confessed to something I did to her mother as a child (You can read about it here).

I also dreamt that I was given a lucrative job offer which involved entering statistics into a database and then having those entries printed in a nationwide newspaper. As I woke, a song I'd not heard in years was on my mind, Trisha Yearwood's "One Love".

Most mornings are like this for me; I don't have to get up early for my job. There are some who wish they could live without sleep, to be fully conscious twenty-four hours a day. I'm not one of them. Whatever hurts I experienced during the day are, in most cases, healed by morning. Any divisions, real or imagined, that may have showed up hours earlier have dissipated. This is why it's hard for me to fathom those who hold grudges for years. So much energy wasted and you're ultimately just hurting yourself.

It's not easy to stay in this meditative state upon waking. Once in the shower, thoughts come up and the rush of good feelings I'm experiencing post-sleep can quickly disappear. Because of this, it's important for one to be out of their mind as much as possible, even when making the sex. As I sit typing this, having taken a shower about 90 minutes ago, listening to some of my favorite songs on YouTube, with the sun shining in and the cat resting on a chair next to me, I am, without question, out of my mind. May it be the same with you.