I've got troubles, whoa-oh

This world is full of it. Problems and troubles abound, seemingly surrounding us on every side (redundancy for $500, Alex). Take for instance this morning. I was on my way to work, minding my own business while driving down the freeway. I usually move as quickly as I can to the far left lane because the right lanes get clogged a couple miles after I get on the freeway because of the major downtown exit and everyone trying to get to work at the same time.

So, naturally, in an effort to maximize the use of my time on my way to work, I try to avoid traffic (read: I'm late and in a hurry). Well, this morning the traffic wasn't too bad as I made my way to the far left lane. I couldn't quite get there right off the bat though, so I was cruising along in the next-to-the-far-left-hand-lane when some bozo decides he wants my place in the lane. This guy came from the right, seemingly without looking and cut right in front of me.

This really torqued me off and as I was able to move left (finally!) and pass the yahoo, he turned and looked at me with a look of smug superiority on his face. Apparently he didn't know he'd just been passed by a Civic. Sucker. I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face with my right (or left) fist. As I passed him and steamed, I came to a realization.

If I had punched that guy in the face, my problem would have been solved. I think this could be extended to more than just the jerk who cut me off. If everyone who deserved it got punched in the face, think of how happy the world could be. Think about it -- school yard disputes used to be settled by a fist fight and then they were over and done with, hockey players fight and then the conflict is over, boxers...well, boxers take a little while, but the idea is the same.

I wonder how many of the world's problems could be solved by a simple punch to the face. One person can made a difference. Remember the guy who would go around hugging people at random? Imagine the impact he had on people's lives. I would bet this would be similar in scope.

I'm going to implement this practice in my life. You can all thank me later for doing my small part to help this world.

Think globally, act locally. Amen.

Shameless plug

You may notice a new feature on my blog - ads. Wow. Sponsors? No, just ads. Clicking them will help me though. I want to buy a truck, so I'll need approximately five million clicks (give or take). Tell your friends, spread the word! Just don't set up a bot or automatic clicker doohickey.

Actually, I don't know how many clicks equal how many dollars, but I'm sure it's a lot of clicks for a dollar. Just thought I'd give it a shot to see if I can earn any revenue this way. So, do me a favor? Whenever you visit my blog, please take the time to click a link. Who knows, maybe you'll find something you like or could use.

One note of caution - the ads are run through Google's Adsense which draws information from your history and content on the page you are viewing (similar to many other ad services). So if you have distasteful ads, before you rant on me for them, check your history and know that I am not in control of the content (Google assures me they will be family friendly, however).

Incidentally, that makes me laugh too because a lot of people got up in arms for Facebook having such ads, but I've never seen one...care to guess why?

I delete my distasteful browsing history.

Lost and gone forever?

I don't get it. I never have and I don't think I ever will.

I'm not talking about the finer sex (although my above statement holds true for them too). I'm talking about my t-shirts. What gives? It's perfectly acceptable for socks to disappear in the dryer, but t-shirts? They're supposed to stick around, through short and fat and tall, through thick and thin and rain and snow and ice.

Unfortunately, life is not a cheesy Mormon play/movie soundtrack. I have shirts that I think have eloped with socks. I only know this because the sock's mates are mad. They want the socks back and I want the shirts back. I think we're close to a deal.

Where do these shirts go? Heaven only knows because I can't find them. A song came to mind (surprise, surprise) while I was scouring my closet for a shirt the other day, but I've had to change the lyrics a bit. Nirvana did it originally and I first heard it my freshman year of high school. It's not a song I hear a lot, but somehow it draws me in. It goes a little something like this:

Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
They go to a lake of fire and fry
Don't see them again 'til the fourth of July

Kinda sad/depressing/dark lyrics, so I changed them a bit. The new lyrics go to the same tune (in case you don't know the tune, click here for some help - you'll have to wait until about the 0:34 mark for the tune).

Where do my shirts go when they hide?
They don't go in the closet to hang in line
They go to a place, deep dark and dim
And make me spend hours looking for them.

I thought I had a good relationship with my shirts. Couple a favorite shirt with a pair of favorite blue jeans and you are set for a good day. I can't think of a good reason why my shirts would leave me. I shower daily and wear deodorant - what else could they want?

I'm begging you, shirts - come back. Please don't make me clean my room.

Stuck in my head

I love music. I can’t play it worth a spit, but I really enjoy listening to it. I like to listen to it almost constantly – at home, at work, in the car, exercising, etc. I like to compare songs to life and find deeper meanings or connections between the songs I listen to and my life. I’ve done that in a couple posts and this one will be the same. Almost. Instead of comparing a song to my life, this post will be about songs I like and what I remember, or think about, when I hear them. Some songs make me think about certain people and some songs make me remember events or things I had or did at a certain point in my life.

You may (or may not) find yourself in a song below. Happy reading.

- Trace Adkins: I Wanna Feel Something

There was a girl a while ago that I was trying to date and things were moving along smoothly, or so I thought. One of the last things she said to me when she told me she didn’t want to date me anymore was that she wasn’t feeling anything – happiness, sadness, excitement…nothing. This song reminds me of her every time I hear it. I’d be shocked and awed if she reads this. If she does, I’m sure she knows who she is. Hi.

“But I wanna feel somethin’
Somethin’ that’s a real somethin’
That moves me, that proves to me I’m still alive
I wanna heart that beats and bleeds
A heart that’s bustin’ at the seams
I wanna care, I wanna cry, I wanna scream
I just wanna feel somethin’ ”

- The Darkness: I Believe in a Thing Called love

During my college days I had a roommate (Brian) who, when he heard this song, said something about the uniqueness of the song and the rock ‘n roll nature of it. I wish I remember exactly what he said. I’m sure it was profound.

“I believe in a thing called love
Just listen to the rhythm of my heart
There's a chance we could make it now
We'll be rocking 'til the sun goes down
I believe in a thing called love
Ooh!”

- Red Hot Chili Peppers: Other Side

On my mission is where I first heard this song. I know what you’re thinking, “on your mission?!” I had some relaxed rules for the first bit of my mission and I may have taken a liberty with this song I shouldn’t have. Whatever the reason, every time I hear this song, I remember an apartment on Flatbush Ave above a Jamaican bakery on P-Day. It’s a good song and it was a great time.

“I heard your voice through a photograph
I thought it up and brought up the past
Once you've know you can never go back
I've got to take it on the other side”

- The Get Up Kids: Mass Pike

Speaking of missions, I served a few months with Richard and we ended up being roommates at BYU. He turned me on to this song, which I still listen to today. Richard likes to argue; he and I would argue about stupid things just to argue and one of the things we’d argue about was a line from the song: “Last night on the Mass Pike, I fell in love with you…” I’d say it was: “Last night on the hash pipe…” while Richard maintained it was “Mass Pike”. He was obviously correct, but sometimes when I hear this song I insert “hash pipe” just for old times.

“Last night on the Mass Pike,
Thought I was losing you.
Last night on the Mass Pike,
I fell in love with you.”

- Billy Joel: We Didn’t Start the Fire and Boston: More Than a Feeling

Oh boy. Good times here. When I was in high school in Vancouver, we had early morning seminary. Early, early morning. I don’t remember what time it started, but I think class started at 6:30am. During my junior year, I was the designated driver for myself, my brother and two friends (with whom I have unfortunately lost contact) – Jared and Alexis. I’d pick them up in the morning and we’d drive in my (dad’s) 1991 Geo Metro to the school. In the morning, we’d listen to We Didn’t Start the Fire and More Than a Feeling while driving in the dark and sometimes fog. That is the scene I see in my mind when I hear these songs. As a result of daily listening, I have We Didn’t Start the Fire memorized. I rarely make an error when singing that song. Yeah, I’m a nerd.

“I looked out this morning,
and the sun was gone
Turned on some music to start my day
Then lost myself in a familiar song
I closed my eyes, and I slipped away”

- Boston: Amanda

Picture 1985(ish). Got it? I do. Okay, I don’t know the year exactly, but it was around there. My dad had a cool silver stereo and it was big. He’d put this song on and we’d listen to it. Every time I hear this song, I can picture the stereo and I have a memory of listening to this song on that stereo with my dad. I enjoy the memory and the song.

“Babe, tomorrow's so far away
There's something I just have to say
I don't think I can hide what I'm feelin' inside
Another day, knowin' I love you”

- Notorious BIG: Big Poppa

I don’t remember where I first heard this song. It may have been the movie Hard Ball, a story about inner-city kids and their baseball team. One of the players, the pitcher, would listen to this song on his earphones and wave his hands in the air before he pitched the ball. Somehow that ended up being the thing to do while waterskiing. I don’t know how it made the jump, but it did and is now a tradition.

“I love it when you call me big pop-pa
Throw your hands in the air, if you’s a true player
I love it when you call me big pop-pa”

- Rascall Flats: What Hurts the Most

Fast forward a few years to my college days. I had a crush on this one girl, but never did anything about it because I was her home teacher. I didn’t want to make things awkward (lame excuse, but there it was) between us, so I didn’t do anything about it. We became, I thought, pretty good friends. We would hang out a good amount and seemed to always have fun. She ended going on a mission about the same time I graduated. I went to her farewell and wished her well. I never told her that all this time I had a big crush on her. I ended up sending her a letter while she was on her mission, but didn’t reveal any of my feelings to her.

“What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do”

- Guns ‘N Roses: Paradise City

If you’ve read my previous post, this song will make sense to you. This is an ultimate white-trash hair band song. I would rock out to this song while driving my 1971 Chevelle Malibu. This song still gets my heart pumping and my foot somehow gets a little heavier on the gas when it comes on.

“Take me down to the paradise city,
Where the grass is green and the girls are pretty
Take me home”

There you have it folks – a small peak in on my inner musical workings. There’s more, oh man is there ever more. This will suffice for now. Be nice.

The Evil Within

Every superhero has a dark side. Superman had a dark Superman – essentially the same individual, possessing the same powers, same knowledge but with a different perspective. The dark Superman's intent was destruction and terror, while the real Superman's intent was to help and serve people.

Spiderman's evil self was called Venom and was the embodiment of Spiderman's evil. Like Superman, Spiderman gets into an epic battle with his embodied evil. These dark personas were created from the evil inside of the superheroes. Like the superheroes of comic book (oops, graphic novels) fame, each of us has an evil inside of us. The duality exhibited by the superheroes is really just a reflection of the conflict we all have within ourselves. What we do with it is what makes all the difference for each of us and I think, in a large measure, defines who we are.

I've recently had a great struggle with my own evil within and have conceded to its power on more than one occasion. I ask you, as my reader, to be considerate and sensitive in regards to what follows.

I blame a great portion of this darkness inside me on my upbringing. Part of what contributed to the growth is undoubtedly the time I grew up in. I am a child of the 1980's and as a result was exposed to many formative experiences of that time.

The 1980's ushered in an entirely new era – one that would change the world. I'm speaking of the era of the Hair Bands. This era brought us travesties such as Tina Turner, Paula Abdul, Belinda Carlisle, Prince (aka "The Artist Formerly Known As"), Madonna, Michael Jackson, and Genesis. But, it also brought us the glory of Whitesnake, Poison, Warrant, Cinderella, White Lion, Bon Jovi, Def Leppard, Europe, Guns 'N Roses, Iron Maiden, Quiet Riot, Skid Row, Twisted Sister and KISS; the herald angels of rock and roll - a clear battle between the evil and the good.

You see, my friends, not so deep inside me is a metal hair band rocker wannabe. I have been successful in the past in beating back the dark shadow of myself that wants to grow his hair out, wear leather pants, and rock on an amplified electric guitar, but this wannabe has come back with renewed force and vigor.

This rocker-wannabe that lies just beneath the surface makes his appearance every now and again. Fortunately, I have taken measures to prevent an ultimate showdown between the good Jason and the evil Jason (I don't have a name for him yet, any suggestions?). I have sold all my leather pants, destroyed my Monster Ballads CD's (yes, I had more than one) and shaved my head. Unfortunately, leather pants are in plentiful supply, and thus are easily obtainable and my iPod holds more songs than I could have imagined, so many more songs than those CD's used to, expanding my library of Hair Rock considerably.

Never fear, though – I have a secret weapon, a kryptonite if you will, one sure-fire way to ensure that the evil rocker Jason does not rear his ugly head. I have shaved my head. A hair band rocker needs hair, and lots of it. I have apparently passed my prime in which my scalp boasted a head full of thick, wavy hair. Sure, as the real rockers age, on occasion the band will reunite for a concert tour of sorts and inevitably one of the guitarists will have suffered the same fate I have – male pattern baldness. It's not the same watching a 50 year old bald man trying to headbang. It's sad really. I think the rocker within knows this and for this reason alone will not make an ill-timed appearance. It may be the very thing that saves not only me, but the entire planet. You're welcome.

However, there are moments when nobody is watching and a Whitesnake song (Here I Go Again) comes on my iPod (how in the world did it even get on there in the first place?) and the rocker comes to the surface. I allow him his freedom in these moments. A little headbang here, some air guitar there, screeching lyrics all over the place and if he's been good, I'll let him repeat the song…three or four times. Fortunately for me, he doesn't just have a penchant for Whitesnake, he will also play Poison by Alice Cooper (One look could kill, my pain, your thrill!). Every now and then he'll have a hankering for something softer, maybe some Heaven by Warrant (Heaven isn't too far away, closer to it every day-ay-ay) or perhaps the soulful Love Hurts by Nazareth (Love hurts, love scars, love wounds and marks…).

If you're around and the wannabe shows up, don't be scared. I'm pretty sure he knows his place and is content with only an appearance from time to time. Hopefully, if/when he does show up, he'll do his thing and quickly sink beneath the surface not to be seen again for a while.

If he decides to stick around, we could have problems – leather pants don't exactly scream, "I'm a man!" anymore, now it seems they scream, "I want a man!"

Rules weren’t necessarily made to be broken

Long ago I created a rule for myself; a rule to protect myself from awkwardness, uncomfortable situations and, in retrospect and perhaps unknowingly, pain. For years I've held staunchly to this rule, withstanding peer pressure and parental pleading. Then, slowly I began breaking the rule and each time I would break it, I would remember why I established it to begin with. I tried to slow down the rule breaking, but once it starts it's very difficult to stop. Precedent has been set and must be followed. I'm talking about my rule of blind dating: I don't do it. Or, more accurately, I didn't do it.

You, my reader, may have been one of the unfortunate victims of a blind date with me, or perhaps you were the instigator of said blind date. Please know that regardless of which camp you fall into, this post is not a reflection of you as a date or a friend.

As a single LDS male in a predominantly LDS community, dating is something I'm expected to do; I'm supposed to get married. Since I'm not married and I'm getting older (according to whose standard?) it is apparently incumbent upon people around me to rectify the situation. And rectify they've tried. My status as a single man seems to be more concerning to other people than it is to me. (Un)fortunately, I'm still single. C'mon people, I survived BYU single, I have resilience.

In these attempts at rectification, I've been on a number of blind dates as of late. Once word got out that I went on a blind date, it seemed that everyone had someone to line me up with. It might seem like an ideal situation for a bachelor such as me; everyone being described was the prettiest girl in the world, had the best sense of humor, was very down to earth and was super cool. Sounds like a good deal, right? Wrong.

We've now come to the very reason I banned blind dates for myself in the first place: friends lie. Maybe "lie" is too strong of a word, but how do you go back to a friend and tell him/her that your date didn't measure up to what you were led to believe? Or that you don't like their friend? Or that you thought their friend was boring? It's not a fun conversation. That's why I hate blind dates. I've met some very cool people through blind dating, but not once has anything truly "worked out". That's fine, but I detest going back to the instigator and saying, "I didn't like your friend" or "Your friend didn't like me." (The latter conversation means the date is having the former conversation.) Hate it.

However, I've come to realize that perhaps having a rule banning blind dates isn't the most practical thing for me to do. With that in mind, I've come up with a set of blind date rules, guidelines or things to consider before setting up a blind date. Following these rules/guidelines will let me allow blind dates to happen and hopefully make the process less painful.

1. Just because I'm single and she's single doesn't mean we make a good match. If this is the only reason you want to set us up, please don't do it.
   
2. Ensure that we have some commonalities (being LDS isn't enough).
   
   1. Sometimes, even without common interests a blind date can be arranged. An acceptable example would be, "She isn't really interested in sports, but she enjoys being active."
      
   2. I appreciate it when I date a girl who is in a similar situation as I am. That doesn't mean she has to be a graduate student, college graduate, full-time career woman, etc. but having something to build on is nice – being a grad student with significant career experience, an 18 year-old high school graduate is probably not the best match up for me.
      
3. Don't lie about the other person. Brutal honesty is preferred. Not everyone is the smartest, coolest, most beautiful person in the world. I'm not such a person, I don't expect a date to be such. I like real people.
   
4. Talk with both daters before giving a phone number out. I've called a date before and she was unaware that I would be calling; in fact, she didn't even know I existed. That was awkward, the date wasn't much better.
   
5. If possible, provide a picture. Sounds shallow. Guess what? It is; I don't care.
   
6. Understand that the date may not work out and that's okay. Don't be offended if one, or both, parties come back to you and say as much.
   
7. If things are progressing, don't play junior high school games. You know, the kind where one party asks a mutual friend, "Does (s)he like me? Can you find out?" Once initial contact has been made, leave the daters alone to make their own way.
   
8. Cold calling is uncomfortable for both parties. It can be difficult to start a conversation with a complete stranger with the end goal of asking her out, even if you both know it is coming. Try and arrange for the daters to meet at a party or other social gathering so they can meet and get to know each other and then decide if they want to go on a date.
   
   1. This set-up is my preferred way. If the girl knows that I'm the guy you want to set her up with, but is unaware that I know that as well, she doesn't feel rejected if I don't ask her out.
      
9. Understand and respect me if I say I don't want to be set up. Blind dates take a lot of energy for me; even if your friend is the smartest, coolest, prettiest girl in the world, I may not be up for it. Don't push the issue. A begrudged blind date is not apt to be successful.
   
10. If at first you don't succeed, "try, try again" isn't necessarily the rule. Multiple blind dates from the same source are acceptable, what is not acceptable is a personal mission to get me married. That's my job; I'll do it at some point.
    

There you have it folks. I'm considering making these into an application that will need to be filled out in triplicate to ensure that the setter-upper has given the date due consideration and is not just trying to play match-maker.

You know what, forget it - maybe I'll just try E-Harmony.

Costco for one, please.

The other day a lady came to my place of work. That, in and of itself, is not unusual. Ladies come to my work all the time, but this time was different. This lady brought cookies and muffins. It's not every day someone comes in with cookies and muffins. I had to figure out what she wanted.

Turns out, she was selling Costco memberships to us. Previously I had been impervious to the wiles of the Costco lady, snacking on her cookies and muffins and laughing gleefully as I walked away with the extra cookie I stashed in my pocket. But, this time was different. The Costco lady came prepared.

I don't have many weaknesses, but somehow she found mine and ruthlessly exploited it. She brought free pizza coupons. NOOO!! My kryptonite is pizza. Free pizza is even more dangerous. I pretended I was paying attention to her schpeel as I munched on a cookie (macadamia nut), and acted like I was scrutinizing the coupon pack she was trying to bribe me with. Every now and then I would wipe a crumb from my face, pretending to be slightly incompetent so maybe she would stop trying to peddle her wares. No dice.

I didn't think too much of the situation as it stood. I had my cookie and wasn't interested in purchasing a Costco membership. Then, a co-worker showed up and asked the lady about renewing a membership. This was it, my opportunity to slip away, cookie in hand. I was preparing to make my exit when the Costco lady made her dastardly move. She said to my co-worker, "If you refer him (pointing to me), he'll get a free pizza and you will too."

DOOMED!

Now, my co-worker had incentive to get me to sign up and I could feel my knees starting to weaken. It was only a matter of time before I succumbed to the temptation of pizza. It wasn't fair. Suddenly, the coupon pack had much more interest to me than it did previously. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the pizza coupon sitting there on the table, inviting, enticing, and drawing me closer. I tried to resist, telling Costco lady, "I don't have my checkbook and I'm not carrying cash." I knew she didn't have a card reader with her; hopefully this ruse would buy me time and allow me to escape.

"Not to worry," she said, "you can take the application and I'll come back in two days and you can give me the check then." Curses, foiled again. I had no more defenses; I was done for. I took the application and slowly walked back to my office.

Two days later, Costco Lady showed up with my card and pizza coupon. A sudden surge of empowerment and excitement came over me. I could now buy cheap gas, bulk food, not to mention the free pizza! Could it get any better? Yes, yes it could. My co-worker decided she didn't want her free pizza, so an additional coupon came my way. Merry Christmas in January! Two pizzas for free?! It almost made up for my forgetting to snag an extra cookie a couple days before.

That very night, I decided to try out my new membership and I headed to Costco for gas. Imagine my surprise when I saw that gas wasn't any cheaper than the 7-11 down the street. And, there are no Slurpees at Costco. Rip-off. I figured it was an anomaly and that I would get some killer deals on the food. So, I went grocery shopping a couple days later. I've decided that Costco isn't the place for a single guy like myself. I now have my year's supply of oatmeal, body-wash, protein powder (more like a life supply of that stuff – blech!), instant breakfast and possibly ground beef. I needed some seasonings and a new toothbrush and toothpaste, but decided that I didn't need a metric ton of Italian Seasoning and I didn't really have anywhere to store 17 toothbrushes and 14 tubes of toothpaste. I also decided that if I had a thumb drive it would be helpful to store my school work on, so if something tragic happened to my computer (replaceable at Costco), I would at least have my work safe. Unfortunately, I couldn't buy just one thumb drive. Instead, I would have to buy anywhere from two to four thumb drives, the collective memory of which would seriously dwarf my laptop's memory.

Even though I came to the conclusion that I will probably not do my weekly grocery shopping at Costco (how in the world am I supposed to eat 16 muffins in a week?!), I still have one more pizza coupon left and it needs to be used by the end of the month. Between that and the food I already bought there, I shouldn't have to do any grocery shopping for the next little while anyway. Besides, the grocery store is typically where I like to find dates and there are just not many single girls in Costco. After all, what would they do with a gallon of mustard?