Alive and Kicking

In The Name of Love (146)

2012-01-24T09:56:00.003+01:00

I'm finally doing it. Finally doing something I've always dreamed about. I'm running a triathlon. Not an Iron Man distance. But still. However, it will be an Olympic distance marathon, so there's that.

To prep for it I'll be running in the Bocholter City Lauf on May 5th. I'll be doing a 5K on the 5th of month 5 (I fell asleep--literally--and when I woke up to apply for the 10k it was too late). On June 17th I'll be running my very first triathlon...the Aasee Triathlon, also located in Bocholt.

So, that's May 5th...5k Bocholter City Lauf and June 17th, Aasee Triathlon.

Why am I writing this in a blog? Two reasons...the first, and least important is that now that I'm putting this out there...I have to follow through. Otherwise I'll have to answer questions about being a quitter or wuss or both. No thanks.

But the reason I'm putting this down in the blog is the REASON I'm running.

I'm 28 years old (read: 40), I'll be 41 (gulp) by the time these events roll around. I've never done this before. I'm NOT going to finish anywhere near the top 90% of the pack (that would be the lowest 10% for the mathematically impaired). This is not a case of "hey, look at me!" because I know I'm not going to finish in a good time. The goal is to finish. I'm going to go out run a race, get a t-shirt, and sleep really well on those nights...so why share this in a blog?

I won't just be running. I'll be dribbling a basketball. No, I won't be carrying the ball with me while swimming and cycling...but in the 5K and the running leg of the triathlon I'll be dribbling a basketball. Wwwwwhhhhaaaattttttt??? I'll be running under the name of Dribble The World (www.dribbletheworld.com), a non-profit organization that helps raise money for various charities.

The charity I have chosen is Love 146.

PLEASE check this organization out. Love 146. PLEASE take the time to explore the website: www.love146.org

If you are not appalled, outraged, disgusted, or literally sick in the stomach after looking at this website I really don't know what to say. I guess you can stop reading now.

I'm going to be running to raise awareness that child sex slavery is very horrid, very real and there are real, living, defenseless victims in this. Children. Children being forced into prostitution. I'm going to be running so people look at me and think "why is that idiot dribbling a basketball?", so I can answer that question and explain WHY I'm running and for WHOM I'm running for. I'm going to be running so people hopefully take a look at the website and realize there is something that can be done...and something that NEEDS to be done.

As I write this, and as you read this children will be stolen from their parents or sold by their parents or taken "into shelter" after they have run away from home. These children will be forced to work as sex slaves. Children. Sex. Slaves. Think about that when you look at the little kids in your neighborhood walking to the bus stop to go to school. Or when you baby sit for your niece or nephew. Or when you put your own child to bed. There are children in this world who are the same ages as our own children, as our family's children, as our neighbor's children...and right now, as you read this, they are being forced to perform sexual acts on adult men and women.

We can end this.

If you are interested in this, please keep checking out my blog...I'll be posting regularly to keep people up to date. But, beyond that, please feel free to donate to Love 146 or organizations like it.

The Gift of Getting

2011-12-08T12:04:00.002+01:00

I'm not one for going out and buying things. I mean, I love getting new things and little gadgets for my bike or a new book. But when it comes to buying things for me...I hate it. I bought a new winter jacket last year...it was about time, my other jacket was only 16 years old. I bought a new pair of Doc Martens two years ago. The old pair gave up the ghost after 12 years. I just hate buying things for me.

And don't get me started on Christmas time consumerism. Really. I have everything I need. Sure, I have wishes...but I have absolutely no grounds to complain and don't need anything. I, honestly, don't enjoy getting gifts. My Christmas list for this year contained exactly zero (0) items. I want nothing. I don't need anything.

But...

I understand the fun of getting things. I get it. I do enjoy it. And that's why I want to share with you the joy you can get by going out and buying things this Christmas.

http://www.visitingorphans.org/pages/page.asp?page_id=131575

Go crazy. Buy, buy, buy...then BUY some more. Why? Because the proceeds here go towards something better.

A friend of mine, Becky Carlson, is going on a trip to China next year to help work in an orphanage. This will be her second or third trip there (among other trips to orphanages around the world). If you decide to buy and want to help her out you just need to designate the purchase under her name and some of the proceeds will go to helping her go and help others.

You can donate directly at: https://www.visitingorphans.org/donations/donate.aspx

Direct donations are great and she would benefit...and, ultimately, Chinese orphans will benefit in the long run. But she'd prefer you buy a gift for someone. Here are her words: I love the acacia necklaces, because they are hand made by widowed women in Uganda, and a portion of the proceeds also goes back to help support these women. Its my favorite thing to buy for gifts.

So, please, if you need to get something for someone, if you feel the desire to get something for yourself...please consider getting something here. Not only will you get something...but you'll be potentially helping widows, and, eventually and ultimately, helping these orphans.

So, please, this Christmas, be generous with your getting.

Economics 101?: Buy my poop!

2011-10-11T23:45:00.002+02:00

Remember the story of the emperor's new clothes? The king wanted new clothes so his yes men came up with a regally invisible line of evening wear...so the king puts on nothing--as in, wearing nothing--and walks around his kingdom naked. Naked. The king. Naked. Walking around.

I don’t remember the moral of the story. I’m still trying to get past the mental picture of someone like, say, the Queen Mum, walking around naked. I can’t unthink these thoughts. I hope you enjoy my pain.

But what does come to mind is how the whole idea of wearing nothing, and parading it around as clothing, makes absolutely NO sense. None. Nil. Zilch. No sense at all.

So, following this rationale...excuse me, lack of rationale, I would like to present my plan to kick start our economy.

Buy my poop!

Yep. My poop. Buy it. At best sounds terrible, at worst sounds crass...but...my plan, as stinky (pardon the pun) as it might be, may actually have some legs. I’ll admit, it sounds pointless and makes very little sense...but just hear me out.

I once saw people using dried up animal droppings as “coal.” They had no other choice but to burn poop to boil water and to cook their meals. So, buy my poop...heat your food. You can even put my poop in your fire place and heat your house. Bonus poop usage!

Depending on the size of your yard you can use my poop as fertilizer. I’m almost positive you’ll want to use it in combination with a mulch pile...but...you can save money in mass fertilizer purchases by buying my poop. I’ll market it as: Stearnsilizer.

And finally, you may need some sort of machine to get the methane out of my processed meat and potatoes but you could eventually get enough to make your own petrol. You can power your car with my poop. I’ll even include a “Powered by Rob’s Poop” bumper sticker for your car.

So, you can cook your meals with my poop. You can heat your house and run your car...and you’ll have plush and desired-by-all-your-neighbors front lawn. That’s four uses from simply buying my poop.

Now, just for a moment, imagine the financial ramifications of an economy running on poop. We all can become entrepepoopers. If the Stearnsilizer aspect picks up we can all have our own vegetable gardens, so we'll save money on groceries. You'll save money on gas...well, at least the gas you put in your cars. The more people who poop means saving water by not flushing as much.

Again, makes no sense, right? Well, does this?

The 2011 Nobel Prize for Economics. I’m not even going to go into the Nobel Peace prize going to someone who planted trees a few years ago...I’m talking about this years award for economics.

Keep in mind, this makes no sense.

The first sign of alarm is that it was awarded to two Americans. Um...am I missing something here? The only developing country with an economy as dysfunctional as ours is Greece. Ok, the Irish may want to chime in here...oh, wait, no they won’t. Let’s say Ireland and Greece are ahead of us--or, below us--on this list. That means that two country’s economies are worse than ours. Two. Worse. Than us.

For those of you who might be a bit slow, that means that just about everybody else is better than us.

So, how in the world did two Americans get this award? Our economy is shambles. The bi-partisan parties can’t agree on anything and now American citizen’s are trying to occupy our economy. And, yet, we get awarded with a nobel prize for economics? This makes sense, how?

And if they are so good, why in the world hasn’t our government adopted their policies? Wouldn’t it make sense that if we had these geniuses in our backyard we would ask them for help? Or...did Obama just say, “Uh, never mind.”

Now, if Obama did ignore these experts, I can’t blame him. This has nothing to do with the Republican-Democratic war of imbeciles...actually, it has to do with making sense. Somehow, ignoring these experts makes sense.

CNN: Research doesn’t have any direct solutions for economic ailments, one winner says.

Oh, well, that’s good. So, in other words, we just gave arguably the world’s most prestigious award to an expert in a field and this expert’s findings can’t help us out.

Keeping with the poop theme, I’ll just say it: Oh, shit.

Christopher Sims, one of the winners said, “the answers (to our economy’s current problems) are not likely to be simple...” Ok, fair enough. I get it. But he went on to say, “Asking for an opinion off the top of our heads, you shouldn’t expect much.”

WHAT?!? We shouldn’t expect much from an expert? From the cream of the crop? Uh, why not? You’re the best. Our economy is on life support. I want an opinion. NOW. I, for one, do expect much.

Until then...please buy my poop. It may be a crappy idea...but I’ve just given you my opinion right off the top of head, or, the bottom of my, well, bottom. And, at the least, you can keep your house heated.

Lunchtime Lessons

2011-10-06T19:58:00.001+02:00

Many kids, when pressed to answer the question: What is your favorite subject?, will answer with Lunch. And for a variety of reasons. Most will tell you it’s because they aren’t in class. Some will say it’s because they get to hang out with their friends. Others--especially those with a car or with a friend who has a car--because they get to leave school and grab a Tommy’s Special or two burgers, a large fry, a future triple by-pass and a large diet soft drink (since we need to pay attention to our figures). Another reason is because the kids are growing and are, well, basically, hungry.

But there are so many lessons to be learned at lunch. Mostly along the social lines and not necessarily having anything to do with the classroom...unless you count copying homework as having something to do with the classroom. The lessons we learn, however, are still lessons...and lifelong ones at that.

For example, when I was two I learned that dropping my face into a bowl of pudding made people laugh. I also learned that my mom could go from a doting “Oh, you’re so cute” to a stern “Ok, that’s enough!” in about 0.6 seconds.

As a young child visiting my grandparents in Arizona I learned that eating zucchini and/or asparagus is a form of coercion performed by parents/grandparents that should have been addressed in the Geneva Conference. Alas.

In grade school I learned how to make deals. “I’ll trade you that Zebra Cake for my Nutty Bar.” (This blog entry is sponsored by Little Debbie).

In the fourth grade I learned to only make bets you know you can win. I won $7 from my friend and locker partner, Jarod. By the way, Jarod, you never paid up and the juice is still running some 30 years later...AND...I know where you live.

In the sixth grade I learned that turning the lights off in the cafeteria to make all the kids sing “ooooohhhhhhhh” in unison not only lands you a date in Mr. Anderson’s office, but also scars your permanent record with “Cafeteria Suspension: One Week.” That’s perhaps why Yale never called.

In the seventh grade I honed my point guard court vision skills. Not by playing basketball but by keeping my eyes open and seeing every possible angle of a possible bully attack.

I also learned it’s easier than you think to mix up chicken breast with my grandma’s dog’s cow hearts. Don’t ask. Let’s move on.

My senior year in high school I ended up being the only guy from my “clique” to have lunch with the majority of the girls in our group. I learned enough that year to where I could have skipped the first two years of gynecologist school. I’m still scarred.

And today I’m still learning. But this time my son is teaching me.

I’m learning that sitting up straight to get a mouthful of food is overrated.

I’m learning that a variation of that old toy “Sit and Spin” exists. It’s called Spit and Smash. This is where a child of, say, 11 months, spits his food out onto the table (a floor can also be a viable option here, for those of you playing at home) and starts smashing it around with his hands. Fun for the whole family!

I’m learning that we can all save money by no longer buying hair gel. Any food product can be run through the hair to derive any style of preference.

I’m learning that when a baby coughs and spits a bit out, that’s fine. When said baby coughs and spits enough out to the point where he notices this wonderful process it’s as if they are enlightened and heavier coughing ensues, added by dash of laughter and a touch of joy, and usually an esophagus propelled carrot ends up somewhere in the vicinity of me.

I’m learning that kids don’t need computer games to improve their hand-eye coordination. They just need a spoon full of goo to swipe at. I'm beginning to think he actually aims the goo at me like a good hitter going opposite field.

I’m learning that a tired child rubs his eyes when he’s tired. (Actually I knew that). But I’m also learning that a tired child who happens to be eating somehow feels the instinctual need to rub his mouth first then his eyes. This of course leads to eye lashes swimming in noodles or mashed potatoes.

I’m learning I don’t care that people look at me funny for wearing the same shirt for the past three days. What’s the point? He’s just going to laugh, cough or sneeze whatever’s in his mouth on me anyway.

I’m learning that making a baby laugh to get their mouth to open can cause one of two options. Option 1: Baby laughs adorably, baby opens mouth, food goes in. Option 2: Baby laughs adorably, baby opens mouth, food goes in, baby continues to laugh adorably, projectile laughing ensues. Usually option two wins out.

And that’s when I look at my son longingly into his big blue eyes, smile, laugh with him and dote, “Ooohh, you’re so cute”...followed by a stern “Ok, that’s enough!” about 0.6 seconds later.

Play Ball!

2011-10-05T12:48:00.003+02:00

It's been a while. And in honor of the baseball playoffs...

It started out a great day. My son was wearing his White Sox jersey and I was enjoying some Skoal...the perfect setting for baseball. OR...eating lunch. Lunch would be a better bet since he’s only (almost) 11 months old. Although we settled on lunch the baseball comparison shall remain.

There we were. A father-son moment. Two men. One kitchen. Enjoying a plate of mashed potatoes, carrots, and broccoli. His new favorite food. Not as good as cracker jacks or a hot dog, but still. Everything was going great. I was cruising. Everything was sliding down his gullet and not a speck of food was on his clothes or mine.

I was basically carrying a perfect game going into 7th. Then the announcer (read: Me) said the equivalent of announcing that a pitcher had a perfect game going...curse of all curses...”Jaden, you’re being such a good eater today!”

The wheels came off from there.

The first sign of trouble was a back-at-you hit right to the pitcher...and the pitcher throws the ball to first for the next out and the ball lands in the stands...E1. I’m watching Jaden and as quickly as the pitcher throws the ball into Row 5 Jaden just reaches over and grabs a handful of potatoes/carrots/broccoli then starts inspecting it.

Two hands full of food. Error on my part. Perfect game lost...but instead of regrouping...I, the pitcher, let the game slip away.

Just as a rattled pitcher would then allow back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back singles into the opposite fields, suddenly Jaden was swinging (his arms) and connecting with the spoon. Spraying food here and slapping food there.

Now I’m a frustrated pitcher just hoping to get out of the inning. Jaden had other plans.

The squeeze play. A sudden and surprise at bat that renders the desired results...unless you’re the pitcher. Jaden threw in the squeeze play by laying down (all over my shirt) a sneeze that had formerly been a mouthful of potatoes/carrots/broccoli. This wasn't a "ha...ha...ha...choo!" sneeze. No. It was just a "CHOO!" As in, "Choo wearing my food now, dad."

For a moment, his rally seemed to be slowing down. I managed to wipe most of the food off his hands and face, and by this time, his hair...oh, and get a piece of broccoli out if his nose. By this point, I’m dealing with clean up duty and just trying to get out of a bases loaded jam with as little damage as possible.

However, Jaden was on a roll. His batting average was climbing. Sadly, so was my ERA.

Peaches and yogurt. Hoping to stem the tide. Jaden’s eyes widened. Not so much the excitement for desert, but more of the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.

Me: Jaden, why are your eyes so big?
Jaden: The better to grab that spoon of peaches and yogurt, my dear!

And here is where it gets even better...or worse. Just depends on who you ask. Jaden decides to become a switch hitter. I’m avoiding his right hand but his left hand grabs the spoon. Avoid the left and the right hand is now oozing with desert. The kind of double play that is definitely NOT the pitcher’s best friend.

I finally decide to bring in the cooler. I had to cool his hot bat off. I give him his little water bottle to distract him. To stop his hot batting. Does this stop him from making a mess? Of course not. Now he’s banging it against his diapers and his forehead. Don’t ask. But, now we have water spraying everywhere...even on to the important legal documents that needed to be sent out this week. Oops.

Now that Jaden had completely rattled his opposition I had to finally call the closer in. Enter Sandman wasn’t playing but it should have been as I narrowed my eyes and dialed in for the last few spoonfuls of peaches and yogurt. I literally had Jaden in lock-down mode. I’m not talking baseball here...I literally had both of his arms pinned down by my left arm.

Finally it was over. The mercy rule had been avoided. Barely. One with a toothless smile and a full belly. The other a rattled father having to deal with major mop up duty. And just like a good baseball game, both opponents left the stadium tired.

Two men...stained with sweat.

And produce.

Maybe Someday

2011-03-08T18:04:00.002+01:00

This is a poem about letting things pass you by. For whatever reason(s) that may be. Life, dreams, life’s dreams pass us by because of our decisions, because of our laziness, because of our lack of focus, because of time, because of circumstances, because...just because.

But this poem is also about hope. Just because we are where we are in life doesn’t mean that we can’t still rekindle the flames to said dreams and plans. I know in my case, it’s not going to be easy to live my dreams out...but it’s still possible. This I know. My dreams may be dormant, for now, but they aren’t dead. And as worried as I can sometimes be about the future, I know something is burning inside of me. There is something that needs to be released, there is a dream waiting to be let out.

This is a poem that needs to be shared. It needs to be shared with others who feel this way. It’s a poem that needs to be shared with friends. Or, a friend.

Maybe Someday

It haunts me
what’s passed by
a life wasted
before I awoke
visions not seen
a soul not free
but in my mind
my dreams run fort
and in my heart
they never tire
the sun sets slowly
my dreams start to wake
someday maybe
my dreams to live
maybe someday

It chases me
what awaits today
another day lost
before it begins
dreams lay dormant
the sun not to see
but in my mind
my dreams run wild
and in my heart
they never sleep
the sun rises slowly
my dreams still alive
someday maybe
my dreams to live
maybe someday

It leads me
what calls my soul
a new day dawning
my eyes not shut
my future to find
a life to live
but in my mind
my dreams are shared
and in my heart
they never die
the sun shines brightly
my dreams now reality
someday maybe
my dreams to live
maybe someday

Tears of the Incarcerated

2011-02-14T15:40:00.000+01:00

I was recently at a funeral. It was--as funerals are wont to be--a sad event. But the saddest part for me was watching one of the sons of the deceased mourn.

Most people mourn their loved one’s deaths. Especially immediate family. And that is how it should be. But this was different.

The guy had put up a brave front--for lack of better term--the entire weekend of the funeral. He hadn’t shed a tear for anyone to see. He was one of a handful of children that the man had and they were all there to celebrate their father’s life and mourn his death. All of the children had made arrangements to be there.

This one son, however, was different. He had to have the arrangements made for him. He was in no position to make any decisions about his daily routine. He was freed from jail to attend his father’s funeral. He was able to live a “normal life” in 18 hour shifts. He was free...yet he wasn’t free.

What made me cry the most that weekend, what depressed me the most, was the dynamic between this man and his deceased father. The last thing his father will have seen of his son is that his son was behind bars, the last time the son will have seen his dad would have been in a jail visiting room.

The wake came and went. The funeral took place. And we started to leave. Then he stood there grieving. Unable to say “sorry.” Unable to re-right the wrongs...at least during his father’s lifetime. Unable to go back home that night and mourn. Instead, he had to go back to his cell and contemplate what could have been.

And that is when I mourned the most.

Tears of the Incarcerated

He stood there trembling
tears streaming
chest heaving
his eyes were closed in shame
his hand on the casket
of his father now dead
no more chances to change his life
no more words that could be said
a man stood there broken
a life behind bars
too late--
to prove his father otherwise

He stood there unconsoled
In his brothers’ arms
In his sister’s grasp
his life still in a cage
His hand on the casket
of his father now dead
one last chance to say good-bye
one last chance to say he tired
a man freed fora time
a life behind bars
too late--
to prove his father otherwise.

R.I.P. Dear Logic

2010-12-15T21:04:00.004+01:00

Sepp Blatter is in hot water with a lot of people these days. And, although he deserves the critiques, it's illogically misplaced when it comes to the homosexual flap. But, hey, someone's got to be the fall guy, right?

Sepp Blatter was quoted as saying, "I'd say they [gay fans] should refrain from any sexual activities," if they chose to visit Qatar for the 2022 World Cup.

From the AP: A leading international gay rights group demanded an official apology Tuesday from FIFA following Sepp Blatter's comment about homosexual fans traveling to Qatar for the 2022 World Cup.

The president of the world soccer governing body said Monday that gay fans "should refrain from any sexual activities" during the World Cup in Qatar, where homosexual behavior is illegal.

The outrage should be that Qatar even got the WC in the first place (no infrastructure, hotter than Dante's 4th Ring of Hell during the summer, and in a region that isn't too keen on the West, not to mention the region's glorious record on human rights).

That all gets swept under the rug because gays and lesbians are reeling in a rage based on a lack of logic Let me explain.

Homosexuality is illegal in many middle eastern countries, including Qatar. The punishment for homosexuality in some of these countries is death. Um, wouldn't it make sense to protest FIFA's decision to award a country like Qatar the WC? Logically speaking, the energy that people are exerting now should have been exerted before hand...as in..."Hey Sepp! Please don't award the WC to countries like Qatar," or "Hell No, We Won't Go!" Something like that.

But no...logic takes a back seat.

Let's look at some other facts here:

A) Blatter was asked what he would say to homosexuals who might go to Qatar. He answered the question. If you are not willing to deal with the answer...don't ask the freakin' question. Blatter did not just come out and blurt out homophobic feelings. he answered a question.

B) The WC has been awarded to Qatar. This is a fact. It's done.

C) Homosexuality is illegal in Qatar. So, well, things could get problematic for homosexuals there. It is not an insult to say that something is a crime IF it is a crime in a particular country. It's called a warning.

D) Sepp Blatter wasn't doing anything other than offering said warning...action X is illegal in Place A...please don't do X in A or there may be problems.

E) As much as people don't want to deal with the logic of the situation...they sort of have to...or, at least, should...in the interest of self-preservation.

Did Sepp Blatter insult anybody? If you say "yes," you've got your leather chaps in a bunch (pun intended). Did he use derogatory language or did he use offensive language? Really? Did he? Honestly? Did he call someone a "queer" or "dike"? NO.

Let's say you've got kids in your neighborhood who are always playing baseball. And they decide to play near your neighbor's house. Now, you know that your neighbor has a Rottweiler that will rip any intruder who decides to brave the six foot fence surrounding his yard to pieces. You, as a concerned neighbor, go out and tell the kids "hey, don't hit the ball in his yard and IF you do, for the love of everything holy, please don't climb that fence and get your ball...that dog might kill you."

Do you think little Jimmy's mom is going to be mad at you for trying to keep her son alive? Is she going to be offended that you insulted his baseball playing urges? NO. She's going to be thankful.

Marijuana possession is also punishable by death in some middle eastern countries. Do you think that if stoners were told not to smoke pot in Qatar that they would be upset? They'd probably just say, "dude."

Now, Sepp, was laughing when he answered the question. And that was unfortunate. Take the laugh away and, basically, he was saying "IF you are gay, you probably don't want to make it obvious, because, well, um, someone may actually throw you in prison or kill you."

WHAT!? That's offensive! Telling us to refrain from something that might get is killed is a terrible thing to do or say!!!! Now we're mad and we want you to apologize for trying to keep us from getting imprisoned or shot.

Yeah, that makes sense.

So, what's my point? Am I against Sepp Blatter? Am I against homosexuals? Am I against the WC in Qatar? Actually, I'm against illogical people using a lack of logic to sound logical.

We are so quick to jump to our own defenses, even though nobody has attacked us. We want to be offended, although no one said anything offensive. We run to start a fight for our rights, when our rights have not been threatened.

We fail to look at the facts, we fail to use reason, and we fail to use logic. That's the real reason the WC is in Qatar, no some people just want to complicate the matter.

Outside Her Window

2010-11-29T22:38:00.002+01:00

This is a poem I wrote for a friend of mine. She knows.

Outside Her Window
--inspired by the film, “Once”

her fingers rest
gently
upon keys of ivory
songs left
unplayed
unsung
no songs left inside
her heart
to sing to souls
aching outside her window
gazing
staring
dreaming outside her window
dreaming
of a love once had
of a love long lost
of a love--
of a life once alive
of a life never lived
of a life--
hoping
hoping past her window
seeking
looking
wishing outside her window
to sing to souls
her heart
once held
to sing
to play
songs unsung
upon keys of ivory
gently
her fingers rest

Paint It Black

2010-11-27T22:50:00.001+01:00

I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and see it has been painted black
maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black
The Rolling Stones

Aaaahhhh...Black Friday. Black. Friday. Black because of the economic ramifications of everyone going shopping on one day to try and get as many, or all, of the Christmas presents done in one day. I get it. I understand.

But then again, I don't. I don't get it. Yet, I think I do.

Thanksgiving has religious roots. The pilgrims giving thanks to God for surviving a brutal winter which killed off many of their friends. Finding a way to survive through Spring and Summer and waiting for their crops to finally be harvested. I'm a realist. I realize many people don't celebrate Thanksgiving in a religious sense. But still.

We sit around with loved ones...and sometimes we invite strangers over when we know they're home alone, away from family. We give thanks and then we eat turkey and potatoes and green bean casserole and red beats (even though nobody actually likes red beats) and we eat grandma's gravy and then we eat pumpkin pie and apple pie and drink our wine and make our toasts and we go around the table, perhaps with candles flickering, and we give a reason why we are thankful.

Thanksgiving is a day where people give thanks for their God. For Grace. For Salvation. Give thanks for their families. Give thanks for their health. Give thanks for love. Give thanks for celebrating life. Give thanks for strength when they've lost a loved one. Give thanks for another day to live. Give thanks for a new life in their lives.

We. Give. Thanks.

Then...

We run to the stores, not even twenty four hours later, and we fight for every "deal" we can find. We call people "stupid" and "whores" when they get to the parking spot first. We run to the stores in the middle of the night looking to buy things--THINGS--before the next person does. Sure, we want to buy gifts that make others happy. But we are out in the wilderness hunting for "bargains," and we adhere to one rule: only the strong survive.

Just a few hours earlier we were reflecting on what is important to us. We were surrounded by the most important people in our lives. Then we drive off into the moonlit morning and surround ourselves with fellow cannibals from the tribe of materialism.

I realize that shopping together on the Friday after Thanksgiving is a tradition for many families. But what has it turned into?

What have we become?

What do we turn ourselves into?

What was it that we were thankful for again?

Not Going Anywhere

2010-11-01T14:17:00.002+01:00

When Yvonne and I first started dating I was getting ready to go on a trip to Ireland with a friend of mine. Yvonne bought me a small journal for me to write down my thoughts while in Ireland. I was recently on the island of Mallorca and started reading through some of the entries that I had made and just started laughing at what my mind thinks.

Inside my stream of consciousness there were also two poems that I had written for Yvonne. Here is one of them.

Not Going Anywhere

I’ve gone places, so dark so dreary
I’e gone there, parts of me never returned
I’ve gone away to forget my tomorrows
I’ve gone far, too far to turn back
But with you by my side
I’m not going--
not going anywhere

I’ve been long gone, I’ve been beaten down
I’ve been to hope’s end where life and death collide
I’ve been so lost, today passed me by
I’ve been away with no place to call home
But with you lying next to me
I’m not going--
not going anywhere

I’ve going somewhere not found in books
I’m going there to cleanse and sanctify
I’m going away to remember yesterday
I’m going far, so far to chase my dreams
But with you to share my life
I’m not just going--
not just going anywhere

Isolation (Temporary)

2010-09-21T20:42:00.002+02:00

I'm going through my poems and getting them "organized" for a book to come out soon (hint: buy it!!!) I'm not sure if I ever posted this one and I'm too lazy to go back and check. I just thought I'd share it, either way.

Back in college I heard a sermon. Actually we had chapel every freakin’ day in college so I heard a lot of sermons. I can literally count on one hand how many I remembered. Four years. Over 700 sermons. I remember less than five. Ten, tops.

Anyway...

One sermon was by Ken Rudolph and it was about David. And what David was doing during the months leading up to his victory over Goliath.

There he was, a shepherd boy practicing his bass lines with his harp, he was stuck with a bunch of stupid, stinky sheep, and he was practicing his sling shots with trees or maybe small animals (oh yeah, he had to kill a lion and a bear with his bare hands...but for the sake of the story, let’s stick to the boring parts, shall we?)

At some point, playing an instrument has to get boring after playing it 8 straight hours. And how many times can you peg the tree with a rock? (I personally would have tried seeing how many sheep I could have pegged in their wooly little arses...but that’s me.) How much fun can it be when your best friends are sheep who speak with one syllable?

There was David. Isolated. Lonely. But...

Still using his talents. Being protective when he needed to be. Writing a boxed set worth of Psalms. And becoming a marks man that would make any sharp shooter proud.

How many times do you feel like you’re on a hill? Isolated? Wondering what to do next? What are you doing while you’re on that hill? Someday you’ll escape your isolation and have to face the world. What will you do?

Isolation (Temporary)

Sitting on a hill
or dying on a hill?
not sure where my life is
why my future holds
watching clouds float by--
my dreams and hopes as well
slowly I feel the pressure
of a wasted life’s
unanswered questions
the sun is peaking
lighting up my life
heating up my heart
sitting on this hill
sitting alone on my hill
asking different questions
not sure the answers
nor where they’ll take me
my days half done
questions half answered
sitting on a hill
or living on my hill?
what the future awaits
as my clouds and dreams float on
what I do
what I make
of my days on my hill
suddenly reveal the force
of what I’ll show the world
of how I’ll change this world
once I leave my hill

An Open Letter to Stephen Hawking

2010-09-11T14:38:00.002+02:00

Dear Mr. Hawking,

I need to come out and be honest. I'm not very smart. My IQ pales to yours and I would never for a moment consider myself in your ball park when it comes to intelligence. And that is why I'm sending you this letter. I need your help. I'm a simpleton...and I'm asking you to help me understand things.

Theology is unnecessary. To a certain extent I do agree with you. I mean, if God IS...then that's a pretty much closed-ended argument, wouldn't you say? God is. Period. Of course...our universe also exists and we try to figure that out, too. So, if I follow the basic logic of your argument I could also correctly say "science is unnecessary." And believe me, this would have really helped my GPA in high school if this was the case.

I am intrigued, I must admit, to realize that science can explain the universe without God. And this is where I need your help.

How does science help explain the differing speeds of astral objects within the universe that go against the Laws of Physics. This is pretty cool...science actually explaining how it's own laws can be violated and still exist. It's like going 70 mph in a 50 mph zone but still going the speed limit. Cool. But it still doesn't make sense to me. How can facts that speak against a theory such as the Big Bang still support the theory? I am confused. Isn't this like a house being built on a faulty foundation?

But what I'm really excited about is that "the scientific account is complete." This is fantastic news. Now that's it's complete I no longer have to worry about evolution being a theory. Because, I guess, it just is. And this is also great news for those scientists out there digging around for missing links...since everything is complete we're done.

Another question: where exactly are all those missing links? I haven't heard anything in the news telling me they have all been found. Wait...have any been found? So, if they haven't been found and the scientific account is complete then does that mean those tadpole-to monkey-to man charts are obsolete? According to your theory that means "yes, they are obsolete." A completed theoretical chart with major, gaping holes in it...aaaahhh, I'm sure evolutionists are pleased to hear that.

Not needing God to explain the laws of nature is also an interesting point. Although, I'm still waiting for someone to explain to me how a theory based on the violations of it's own laws and with gaping holes in it can be considered "fact" or "intellectual."

The part of time travel that you believe in is really cool. I would probably abuse this if it were possible. I'd go find out who won the Super Bowls and NCAA championships and Kentucky Derby's then bet my life savings on them...I certainly wouldn't use this to learn anything. But, then again, I wouldn't need to. Since the scientific account is complete.

But this again offers another question. I do apologize for being such a proletariat here. Forgive me, please. But if you could travel into time why would you even bother trying to find out if the M-Theory was indeed the a theory of everything? The account is complete! Relax, dude. You've got all the answers. Everything is done. Why keep searching?

Again, me not smart.

And thankfully I'm not that smart. Thankfully I'm left with questions. And thankfully there are people like you who are able to explain (would "rationalize" be a better word?) how theories which can not be scientifically based are still considered scientific. I honestly find your theory interesting. It's just a shame about those damn facts. They ruin everything.

Sincerely Yours,

Rob Stearns

Living Your Lie

2010-09-05T22:40:00.002+02:00

This is a poem about freedom and sadness.

It's about breaking free from the grip someone has on your psyche, it's about not being a victim anymore, it's about not being controlled by fear...and yet you're not totally free...you suffer because others are suffering.

Finally free, yet, at the same time you have to watch your loved ones go through the same trials and sufferings at the hands of the person who you once feared the most. And as you watch these people survive, you know there is little you can do to keep them from being scarred.

It just makes you pray more earnestly.

Living Your Lie

She stands alone
her confidence stripped away
swimming in a lonely sea
grasping fro straws
grasping for love
clinging to the promises you make
crying from the promises you broke
she’s living your lie

He fears your wrath
passive aggressive attacks
tearing up in angst
swallowing his words
swallowing his pride
breaking out in hives
breaking away from your heart
he’s living your lie

I know your ways
less traveled, more wandered
tensing in fear
aching to my soul
awakening to a new day
breaking away into truth
breaking away from you
I lived your lie

Her Love Runs Deeper Than She Knows

2010-08-31T19:36:00.002+02:00

The difference between feeling in love, being in love or actually loving can be miles apart. Worlds apart. Universes apart. We fall for someone, we fall in love, we feel love...then it all wears off and the feelings of love don't always inspire us. So, we're stuck with merely with loving someone. And sometimes we're "stuck" loving someone we may not really love.

But isn't that part of real love? Sacrificial love? Love that lasts? Love that doesn't wilt under the pressure of not being in love?

I have a friend whose going through a pretty rough phase in her marriage. She doesn't love her husband anymore. But she's staying with him because she knows it's the right thing to do. Sounds strange in today's "me must be happy" world...or, to quote Cheryl Crowe, "if it makes you happy, it can't be that bad."

But here she is. Tired. Sad. Lonely. And, yet...and, yet...she's staying. She may not know why. But I think I may know why. I may be grasping for straws...but I hope I'm grasping for hope. If that makes sense. Besides doing the right thing, I think her love is so much stronger than she thinks.

This is for my friend.

Her Love Runs Deeper Than She Knows

Promises of love, to cherish, to hold
dried up like wells in a desert lifeless
he left her once, he’s left her once more
vows forgotten, drowned in seas of lust
he has left, she remains at his side
confusion sets in to those outside
questions arise to those who do not know
theories revolve around the two holding hands
although he is gone, although she stays
when pressed for reason, she bares to all
his happiness is what he deserves
unable she is to present this gift
yet able she is to sacrifice this hurt
away he has run, by his side she remains
her sold shroud in fog, her heart dried like stone
tears flow no longer, though her promise doesn’t waver
he has wondered, she remains
questions abound, answers seem mute
but her love runs deep
deeper than she knows

No Compromise

2010-07-11T02:21:00.002+02:00

I'm really tired and I'm not sure I can express my thoughts clearly. I've been thinking about this topic for a few weeks now.

I often make jokes about how the gods are against certain teams or towns and I use the term "karma" in a lot of my conversations. I am joking when I say those things. For example, I could say the soccer/football gods are not fans of Germany since they just won third place and now a killer thunderstorm is taking over. I don't believe in the gods nor do I believe in karma. And now that I've admitted that the gods are going to turn my karma into a living hell. I guess I'll come back in some other life as a fly and not a prince. Alas.

I just started reading a book about yoga. I'm not into yoga. Stretching, yes. Yoga, not so much. I'm not exactly thrilled about becoming one with the world since a) a lot of yoga courses are indoor...and I don't feel like being part of the linoleum floor and b) being one with the earth is basically becoming dust and bones...translation: I'm dead. Not yet, please.

I'm reading the book to get a yogi's perspective on his religion. I think the yogi is a he...he looks like a woman (Pat?) and has a name I'm not familiar with. But I also like using the word "yogi." I'm not normal.

I like the movies Troy and Gladiator. And even the horrendously produced (yet, mildly entertaining) 80s version of Clash of the Titans. These people followed their gods. A god for this, a god for that...even the New Testament tells us of the unknown god (as in: I'm not sure why the hell this god is here, but we better pray to it if it exists or our karma is going to suck). Just got to keep our bases covered.

And then there is God. Arrogant and egoistical. The one true God? The living God? Jesus claimed to be THE way, THE life, THE truth. I'm pretty sure that ranks higher than Lebron James' self-proclaimed "global icon" status. Call me crazy.

But here's the thing (ok, Frank, two things): A) God didn't share or seem to care that he wasn't sharing. And there's some glory in all of that. If he were being interviewed by Larry King, I think he'd say something like this, "You see, Larry, I am all you need. There is no reason for other gods. I created man, who created these gods. I AM GOD. No, let me retract that last statement. I AM!"

Once he said that the phone lines would be abuzz with Jehovah's Witnesses saying "You mean, you were. Please say we're right!" Followed by God melting the phone lines just to prove a point.

B) Let's get back to Jesus. "I am THE way, THE truth, THE life...you can't get to God unless you go to him through ME!" That's a pretty ballsy statement, to say the least.

What other religion claims this? Other religions provide "ways" to Nirvana, the Afterlife, Paradise, etc. But Jesus claimed to be the only way. And then, just like God melting the phone lines to prove a point, he raises from the dead. He defeated death! He melted it away. He proved his point...and he's the ONLY one to EVER do that.

In the messed up world that exists in my brain I can totally see Jesus walking out of that tomb on Easter Sunday while dusting some dust off his legs in the morning light, straightening up and looking to the skies and saying, "Eat that, Zeus!" (It's a really good thing I'm not Jesus--for more than the obvious reasons--I'd be talking smack all day. Probably not a good thing.

The problem is with us Christians. Or, namely, me. We keep screwing things up. We think we're the answer...when we are, well, um, not. And then the rest of the world gets sidetracked because we (read: me) are idiots.

But God? He doesn't share his God status with anybody. There's no need to. He is all we (read: me) need. And the beauty of it is that his being the one, true, living God is not about being some stone eyed deity on some mythical throne. It's about inviting us into his kingdom. It's about a God who is a father and wants nothing more than for his children to return to him. It's about destroying the other gods and demonic forces out there to protect what is rightfully his. It's about him. It's about us.

It's not about other ways, or gods, or theories. It's about not compromising.

Because he shouldn't have to.

Because he doesn't need to.

Not Yet

2010-06-13T11:26:00.003+02:00

Wow. It's been two months. I've been writing but my mind has been full of things and I've been filling my mind with things to take my mind off things. Somehow that makes sense to me.

This is a poem about hope. It's about not being complete. Not being the finished product that God wants me/us to be. So much more to be done, so many more trials to live through, so many more times that God will have to mold me into a man of his likeness.

God's not done with us. Not yet.

Not Yet

Where I am, is exactly that
I am here
not there
not yet
I walk, I run, today I'll crawl
like a child so far from--
so far away
not home
not yet

What I am, is exactly that
I am me
not finished
not yet
I am, I was, today I'll be
like a masterpiece not--
so far from done
not complete
not yet

Who I am, is exactly that
I am me
not perfect
not yet
I live, I die, today I'll breath
like a life not--
so far from dead
not in the grave
not yet

Why I am, is exactly that
I am free
to live
even yet
I rise, I fly, today I'll soar
like a prodigal on his way--
on a journey
towards home
even yet

Question and Answer

2010-04-18T16:27:00.001+02:00

So how are things going? I've been praying for you...

Praying you live free, wisely, alive, condemnation-free, shrewdly,
perseverant, and joyful.

Jamie

Been a rough few weeks. Condemning. Living under bondage. This week the clouds broke and I could pray...I could breathe...I could worship. I'm going to write a poem about it and send it to you. The premise is this:

When elephants are being trained in the circus, they often have a painful chain (sometimes like barbwire) tied to their legs. As they get older they get used to this pain, to this bondage, the feeling of being trapped. It becomes what they are used to. Once they get older, the owners of the elephants only have to tie a thin rope around the elephant's leg but the elephant feels tied up, feels he's in bondage...when all he has to do is take two steps forward and he's free. He'll break his "bondage" and literally be free!

That's how I felt today in church.

Your words. Letting my family know. Letting the BBC circle that I still keep know. The words of comfort from Fwank and Lewk...not to mention Chappy and Show. Talking to J-$ and Egbert. God used all of you to embrace me this past week. I could literally feel God hugging me...through the body of Christ. Man, I feel alive. I don't feel strong. I don't feel like I'm ready to preach from the pulpit. But ideas to write are coming. My soul feels forgiven. My soul IS forgiven. I feel alive.

I was reading in Isaiah 53 today. We've ALL gone astray. We've ALL turned away. I was in bondage because I felt like I was the only one who has ever screwed up. I felt guilty and dirty and unworthy because I thought I was the only one who was unworthy to come to God's house. We're all freakin' unworthy. I may be first in line...but at least I know there is a line. I'm not alone. And God has forgiven us. The forgiveness is paid. My "iniquities" were on that cross...and Isaiah said it was God's will that those sins would be paid for through Christ.

I'm forgiven. I haven't felt that way in some time. Feels good to sleep soundly. Feels even better to breath.

I was able to praise God in church today with a clean conscience.

Free,

r

Prodigal

2010-03-11T12:31:00.000+01:00

Prodigal

where I am and how I got here
add to the confusion of where I’m headed
all of this—
what is and what will be
upon me do weigh
time to think, time to plan
time to cry and time to wonder

and here I am, so far away,
everything I’ve become
and continue to be
label me for what I am
strip me naked of disguises self-created
run away, run astray yet longing
longing for the return
though shame and repentance await
and whispers of guilt still haunt

where I’m going and how I’m leaving
pin me in fear in my sleep
all of me—
what is and what will be
upon me do prey
prodigal I have been
and prodigal I remain

Breath of Fresh Air???

2010-03-02T22:35:00.003+01:00

Ok, check this article out. It claims that cow feces and cow urine are being used to fight diseases...and bad breath.

One question: How bad is your halitosis that it can only be cured by cow poop and cow pee?

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,587744,00.html

O Holy Night

2010-02-23T01:09:00.002+01:00

I know it's not Christmas. But this is my favorite Christmas song and this rendition is ridiculous. The women are absolutely fabulous. And if anybody has the phone number for the violinist...well, you know where to find me.

Close your eyes and you can see the angels above the sheppard's field.

One of the comments to this was "Like a flawless glimpse of Heaven." It couldn't be better said.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZ-8jYpa1-o

Enjoy.

President's Day

2010-02-15T20:01:00.003+01:00

The more I get to know people...the more I'm reminded how stupid they are.

And of this group of people (read: the idiots) it has become increasingly clear that I am far and away leading the Presidential Race for Idiocracy by a LANDSLIDE!

But I'm NOT Going to Like It!!!!

2010-02-03T02:03:00.002+01:00

I got a phone call tonight (via skype) from an old "friend" of mine. I say "friend" because he's a bit older than me. We didn't hang out much. But when I was younger, and when I could (either at summer camps or at church functions) I would try and spend as much time around him as possible. He was a combination of a mentor and hero to me. Not to mention I'd put him up in the Top 5 of the Funniest people on the planet.

And now...he's the bane of my life.

He's still a great guy, don't get me wrong. And it was great talking to him. And I'm really looking forward to talking to him again.

But I still hate him.

By the way...he was also the pastor that married me and my (ex-)wife. That's not why I hate him.

He convinced me tonight to join the dark side. To give into my moral standards. He lured me away from my green pastures. The guy's a pastor!!!! And he's doing all this?

Yes...he did it.

He forced me to become the hypocrite of the day...or week...or month.

I'm now a member of the Facebook community. AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

Thanks, Mark. Not only did you keep me up till 2 AM now I won't be able to sleep because of a guilty conscience.

When this is over, I will look upon your corpse and smile.

Shaken Ground (or Twisted Reflection)

2010-01-17T14:35:00.004+01:00

My thinking was shaken today. I had a 10 second conversation with my landlord. And it left me floored.

Her husband brought up the earthquake in Haiti and some missionaries or something and I lightly mentioned that some people believe that Haiti is being punished for some pact she made wit the Devil. She just said, "Being punished from God? If from anybody, then the devil!"

Now, I'm not saying the earthquake was fate, destiny, punishment, whatever. But I was raised in a pretty conservative church. When bad things happen to people, countries it's supposed to be because of punishment from above. When one reads the OT in the Bible, well, um, yeah, God pretty much took people to the woodshed when they refused to follow him. The OT is full of passages where God was trying to start over, prove a point, protect his chosen people, or protecting certain persons and then countries--or the human race--were wiped out in mass or completely.

But the New Testament offers us something new. Jesus gives compassion, seeks out the "sick" to "heal," He reaches out to the Samaritans. To the dredge of the Earth. He doesn't condemn...well, except for those doing the condemning. And when he did condemn it was after chance after chance after chance of showing himself to be something more than a prophet. Namely, God.

But the idea that signing a pact with the devil and then ensuing punishment from God seemed to make sense. Until this morning.

If John Eldredge is right (and I think he is) then history is the greatest love story ever told. God, trying to rescue lost souls from the serpent. On one hand I can still see God going after his enemies, and those who "swore" to his enemy...but I can also see God, weeping, crying, longing for those who made a pact with the devil for whatever reason. I can now see God aching for these people and still fighting to rescue them.

I wrote this poem this morning...from the devil's perspective. It's about luring people away and trying to get them to follow them...and in the end, he's the one punishing them. The devil promises everything and at the same time is the one responsible for the current torment. And ever so subtle he has all the blame placed on God(If there was a God, then why is there famine? or earthquakes? why do babies die? why are the innocent tortured?). It's sad how we look at a broken world--that was broken by the snake--and we get mad at the Maker who made everything perfect.

I named it Twisted Reflection because that's the way the poem sort of formed. As a reflection...with truth and perspectives being twisted. But I also like the name Shaken Ground since the discussion of Haiti started this, plus it fits to my "belief" being shaken this morning...and, I guess, if you're signing deals with the devil, you're pretty much screwed...again, on shaken ground.

Shaken Ground (or Twisted Reflection)

Sleep, sleep, lie in your stupor
Sleep, sleep, never awake
Follow me, into my darkness
Follow me, your faithless prince
I'll lead you away from the mire
I'll lead you astray towards the fire
You live, you live your dreams to wonder
I live, I live your dreams to plunder
I live, I live to take your soul's breath
You live, you live, in a cloud of death
I'll lead you astray from the light
I'll lead you away into the night
Follow me, I'll take the glory
Follow me, I'll shift the blame
Sleep, sleep, with dreams of truth twisted
Sleep, sleep, with a heart full blindness

Clarification

2010-01-11T23:06:00.002+01:00

I got a very concerned email today from a very motherly friend of mine. She was concerned that I actually lost my job. As I posted in the Roll Tide post. Hey, did you know Alabama won the National Championship? I'll be here for the next 12 months to remind you in case you forget.

You're welcome.

Anyway...I did not lose my job. I was using slight hyperbole. (I feel smarter when I use words like hyperbole). I was trying to paint a picture of two guys (one unemployed) sitting around with empty beer bottles at 4 AM contemplating going to the unemployment office and then one getting fired.

First of all, we each nursed 2 beers for about 4 hours. Neither one of us were anywhere near tipsy. Let alone being drunk. Second of all, Buddy is unemployed because he just happened to graduate (with an engineering degree during a recession)...so his visit there was a formality sort of thing. And thirdly...um, well, I hate being drunk and don't like hanging out with people who are drunk--hearing the same freakin' story 92 times in a row is NOT FUN. Which brings me to my last point...I would never go to work drunk...or tipsy.

Sorry, Lisa...I'm ok. Didn't mean to scare you.

BUT...it is fun to get a reaction like that. I should be a writer (buy my book!!!!)

I do think it's nice that she decided to employ her motherly instincts on me, though. Of course, if she was my mother (she's the same age as me) that would mean one of three things. A) We live south of the Mason-Dixon line, B) she got royally screwed over at the adoption agency, or C) I'm like Mork from Ork.

Speaking of Mork...why is it that we Americans assume that aliens speak English? Are Aliens that far ahead of us in their educational system or are we just that arrogant? Or both? What if Aliens really speak French. Well, my friend Léuik would be happy.

We saw the same thing in Transformers and in Star Wars. Why would people in a galaxy far, far away be speaking English? And the machines? I'm confused. At least we were nice enough to colonize and try to teach the aliens in Avatar our language and we tried to learn theirs. Call me weird, but I just like a sense of reality in my sci-fi flicks.

Back to my main point. Do I have a point?

Oh yeah, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry, Lisa, that I confused you. I was trying to not take myself so seriously...which is a lot of fun. Until people don't take me seriously. Then I get upset. Basically, I shoot myself in the foot. I'm like the Gilbert Arenas of logic. (What? Too soon?)

Roll TIDE Roll!!!

2010-01-09T22:12:00.005+01:00

I have a few poems floating in my head...and a few subjects to write on. But even though it's been a few days past...

Let me allow myself to write on the ALABAMA CRIMSON TIDE!!!!!! And since it's my blog, there's really no reason to ask you readers (both of you) for any sort of allowance. So there.

Roll Tide!

Ok, I've been ON A high (needed to stress the ON A for a friend of mine) since Thursday night...which was actually Friday morning in Germany. There I was at 4 AM with my buddy, Buddy, sitting in his living room, sharing a few beers, eating chips, chewing tobacco and watching Alabama win the National Championship. As romantic a scene as you'll ever see, if you ask me.

6 AM, empty beer bottles on table, Pringles half gone, one Coke bottle full of spit, and m&m's on the floor, and then Buddy says:

"I've got to be at the unemployment office in two hours."
Me: I've got to be at work in two hours."

Needless to say, we're now both unemployed. Still, very worth it.

I'm going to use this opportunity to defend Alabama's win. Not that I need to. But still. It's my blog, let me play!

I know Texas had more yards than Bama...but if you're a stat geek just remember ONE thing...the only stat that matters is the score. Bama: 37, Texas less than 37.

Back to the stat geeks. Even though Texas had more yards than Bama. Let's not forget Texas also had the number one rushing Defense in the land. How did Bama do?
TWO runners had over 100 yards and two touchdowns. That's 200 yards and 28 points. How many points did Texas have? Oh yeah, less than 28.

My buddy Jamie, a grieving OSU fan (Go Beavers!), jumped on the "Texas was more prepared than Bama" bandwagon based on Texas' kicking game strategy/on-side kicks.

Jamie's an idiot. The Texas coaches? Not so much...at least in this department. And this department ONLY. Texas' kicking game plan was fantastic. If I had to play Bama I'd do exactly what they did...truly better prepared.

One thing irks me about their preparation. They were already losing by 18 and running the ball almost the entire third quarter. I said to Buddy, "If I were Texas, I'd be throwing it. Losing the championship by 30 or 18 doesn't matter...they need to at least try." He agreed. Unfortunately I jinxed everything and Texas started throwing and then scored 14 points.

If a really tired fan in Germany is more prepared than the coach, then, sorry Jamie, they weren't as prepared as you think.

NOW...if they were really prepared they would have had the BAMA blitzes blocked so they wouldn't have knocked their QBs half silly.

My idiot acquaintance Luieuk (yes, that's how you spell his name), has an asteric placed on this game, as did some ESPN or CNNSI reporter, and Jamie said the game was "tainted" since Colt McCoy got knocked out. I think that's complete cow-pattyesque. Here's why:

Let's say Colt got hurt last week before the game. That would be a bummer and would have given Bama an advantage from the get go. Or let's say he was running and twisted an ankle on the turf. Freak accidents happen...ask the NE Patriots. That would be a bad thing. Under these circumstances I can see the argument that, "hey, they weren't 100% when they took the field." I could somewhat live with that.

BUT...our guy literally knocked the feeling out of the QB's arm. Fantastic hit and perfectly legal and clean. And that means the game is tainted? The defense's job is to HIT THE MAN WITH THE BALL AS HARD--YET LEGALLY--AS POSSIBLE. And that's what happened. So, by doing our job and knocking the player out, the championship is tainted?

That's like saying a boxer's win is tainted because he TKO'd the other dude. "Well, he couldn't stand up anymore so the fight had to be canceled. Oh, and another thing...because you TKO'd him, you're not the winner." Yeah, that makes sense.

Look, football is violent. Ask Colt McCoy. You don't think the Texas players were trying to take our guys out? Cleanly, of course...but again, football is violent. Only the strong survive. It's true...ask Tennessee...those guys were being carted off the field against Bama.

(And don't even start with the Bama was "lucky to be there" theme based on the 14-12 escape in the Tennessee game. YES, we blocked two field goals to preserve the win. But if we're splitting FG hairs here...what about Texas' last second field goal against Nebraska. "Um, gee, you're losing...so we'll give you an extra second." Even if the extra second was legit--and I believe it was--wouldn't Texas also fall into the "lucky to be there" camp? Yet, I digress.)

Another argument I heard about how well Bama played was how bad Nick Saban's decision was to fake a punt. Watch the replay. The call was perfect, the throw...well, let's just say the girl who won the Dr. Pepper throwing contest at the SEC championship game could have thrown the ball further and harder. Look, we had the guy open. The pass was short. Really, really, really short, I admit. The result: 3 points for Texas.

What about the Texas decision to throw a shovel pass at the end of the first half, and then NOT catch it, and then have it intercepted? Result: 7 points for Bama...and instead of an 11 point deficit at halftime, Texas was now down 18. Great call fellas. Good luck in your job search this off season.

But as I said before...it all comes down to the final score.

37 : 21

2009 NCAA NATIONAL CHAMPIONS

ROLL TIDE ROLL!!!!!!!!

Now I'm going to eat some real food and get some sleep. I need to find a job!

Resolute

2010-01-06T18:43:00.004+01:00

I was thinking about this a few days ago. Then a friend of mine told me to write something or she would hunt me down and drown me in acid. Or something like that. So, in order to avoid a flesh eating drowning I shall proceed.

Resolutions. New Year's Resolutions.

Really?

I love this mentality. "On January 1st my life is going to change," or "Starting next year I'm going to do things differently."

Really? Honestly? Riiiigghhtt.

So, when I notice in August that I'm putting weight on I still have to wait four more months to go on a diet?

When I have an idea in the spring time for a new job I have to wait till next year?

And then, so many people just get ripped (as in: drunk, not as in: muscular) that they begin the new year with a major headache if their lucky. They wake up in their own vomit if their not so lucky. (I know, I know, great mental picture. Happy New Year everybody!)

Why do I have to wait till January 1st? I'd rather veg that day and watch college football (Roll Tide!). Besides, I'm still on Christmas Vacation...getting better or thinner or stronger or richer or smarter can wait. Right?

And if things don't work out in the next two or three months do I have to wait till 2011?

My head hurts from thinking about this nonesense...and I'm not even fighting off a hangover.

Nor am I in my own vomit (It wasn't his own vomit. There's no way to dust for vomit). Just wanted to clear that up.

Is Nothing Sacred?

2010-01-06T18:30:00.002+01:00

Ok, this is supposed to be the best part of the year for college football fans. And for me, being an Alabama fan, this part of the year is FANtasitc. ROLL TIDE!!!

But this college football season has pained me. Or at least the Bowl Game season.

Hockey play-off beards, wearing white at Wimbledon, the final laps of Le Tour in Paris, March Madness bracket guessing, the Kentucky Derby on the first Saturday of May, the Seventh Inning Stretch, Sweet Caroline in Boston, and at least one idiot getting gored in Pamplona...these are all traditions in sports. These are all sacred.

The Bowl Game season used to be sacred. January 1st; Rose Bowl, Orange Bowl, Fiesta Bowl, Sugar Bowl, Cotton Bowl could all be seen on one day. And on this day the National Champion (Roll Tide) would be crowned.

Today? Not so much.

I won't even touch the farce of the BCS (and, yes, my team is benefiting...but still). It's a rich man's, er, conference's, world. Disgusting.

Now, I understand it makes financial sense to spread these games out. I'm actually fine with that...and if it gives me more reasons to sit up at 3 AM and watch these games and sleep walk through my job...well, who's against that? NOT me!

But the above mentioned games used to be reserved for the best teams...and the idea used to be to play in a Jan. 1st game. Playing in the Bluebonnet or the Liberty Bowl on December 24th was nice and all...but every college team wanted to play on Jan. 1st.

Now the games are spread out a bit...and that's fine. But when did the GMAC Bowl or the Gator Bowl start carrying the same weight as the bigger bowls? This sucks.

Instead of going from one elite game to the next we're now stuck with middle of the road games on Jan. 3rd?

Who's freakin' idea was this?

Thanks GREED for ruining another tradition in sports.

Thankfully we still have old school jock straps.

Selah (A Christmas Song)

2009-12-14T16:49:00.003+01:00

This is a poem I wrote last Christmas. It was meant to be set to music and then played at a Christmas Concert. It was set to music but it never got played. I really like the way Rita played it...slow, and methodical, and thoughtful. As if playing to an audience and asking them to digest the words being sung, but at the same time trying to play the song for a sleeping baby.

I don't think I've posted this before...if I have. Sorry.

I know that the Christmas "Season" is somewhat hectic and that people are going to be coming and going and buying and wrapping and whatnot and whatfor. I pretty much doubt anyone is going to be getting on their computer's on Christmas Day to read my blog. With that observation made, I figured I may as well post something now so that it can be up for a while in case someone stumbles across this blog.

And if you do happen to come across this blog, well, hopefully you can take a moment from the hectic pace of the next few weeks and just relax and think about God, actually living with us, as one of us.

Merry Christmas!

Selah (A Christmas Song)

A child is born
In a faceless farmhouse
A child is born
The Prince of Peace
Prophecy fulfilled
She holds him so close
To ponder what he means for us

Selah Selah Selah
Prince of Peace
Prophecy Fulfilled
Selah

She calls him Josua
And Emmanuel
God is with us
On this wondrous night
Savior for…
All mankind is here
Lying safely in his mother’s arms

Selah Selah Selah
God is with us
Our savior Emmanuel
Selah

Over yonder, above the fields
A choir of angels
Sings his praises
Dancing on the stars
Above the city of David
Our king is born
Resting safely at his mother’s breast

Selah Selah Selah
The angels sing
In David’s city
Selah

Oh sweet child
In your mother’s arms
The King of kings
And the Prince of Peace
Prophecy fulfilled
Emmanuel
O Josua, in your mother’s arms

Selah Selah Selah
Oh sweet Josua
In your mother’s arms
Selah

In this night
When you were born
The angels sang your praise
And filled the sky
Our savior born
For us to save
We can rest, in our Father’s arms

Selah Selah Selah
Oh how the angels sang
Selah Selah Selah
Our savior born
Selah Selah Selah
O Prince of Peace
Emmanuel
Selah Selah Selah

A Lonely Winter's Sleep

2009-12-10T11:44:00.003+01:00

This is the last installment of the 38 years old version of Rob Stearns looking at his life like the four seasons.

I would like to explain this poem a bit. Maybe I should explain it a lot. Maybe I should see a shrink.

I don't like bothering people. I never have. The last two apartments I've moved into I've done virtually alone. I had a couple friends help, but mostly, it was just me. I don't want to put people out of their way. I hate that. So...at the end of my life, I don't want a funeral or anything like that. At this point in my life I'm happy with dying alone somewhere. No wife to have to worry about me (maybe this is why relationships and me are like oil and water), no kids to take care of funeral arrangements...nothing. Just let me die, toast a Guinness (or two) in my name and get on with life. No need to be sad. It won't bother me. Honest.

I don't need a funeral either. It's not like I'll be there anyway to critique it, enjoy it; I'll just be lying there. Dead. Most likely bored out of my mind. Just burn me somewhere...preferably on a bunch of rocks somewhere up in the mountains.

Don't make a fuss.

I think...

Here's the thing that's been bothering me about my own philosophy: closure. I want my kids to be able to say good-bye, if that is their wish. I don't care if my friends come to the funeral/burning, and I don't have any siblings. I guess my parents can come. Yeah, they can come.

I'd like to give my close family the chance to say good-bye...so this sort of bothers me.

Anyway...this poem isn't meant to depress. I'm just saying I prefer to die alone...again, I just don't want to bother anyone.

A Lonely Winter's Sleep

I see a tree, upon the hill's highest point
a silouhette of black upon a sky of gray;
no leaves, no life, brances rattling in the wind.
The birds of summer are gone, empty nests of brown,
the buds of spring ne'er more to return.
A lonely winter's sleep is upon this tree;
death upon me.

I see my life, upon my last breath's bed
alone in the daily; in my last days of gray.
No family, no friends, memories recycled in my mind
relationships of my summer gone, life's wish fulfilled.
Tomorrow's sunrise never more to rise
A lonely winter's sleep is upon my life;
death upon me.

Want Ad

2009-11-24T15:59:00.004+01:00

I'm posting a Want Ad.

I. WANT. You. To. BUY. MY. BOOK.

There, that was easy.

You see, I figure if I become an author of a best seller, I won't have to work anymore. It's not that I don't mind working...it's just that I've been at my new school for a little over a week now and we already had our first school shooting scare.

Over the weekend someone spray painted "School Shooting. 11-24-09" on one of our school building's walls. Naturally, we weren't too excited about this. Half the kids weren't in school today, everyone was on edge, the only thing the kids could talk about was the ensuing "attack" and the police were everywhere...checking bags, bikes, cars.

The only thing missing was a "You're now leaving the American Sector" sign and bomb-sniffing dogs.

Eventually, the police nabbed the two kids who did it. They were just playing a prank, was their argument. This prank will cost them an expulsion and they have to pay for the services of the extra police force. (Seriously, whatever happened to T-Ping a school? Isn't that sort of a non-threatening prank? Inconvienence but harmless?)

I don't mind being a teacher. I enjoy it. But I don't feel like getting blown up.

PLEASE buy my book!!!!!!!!

Autumn's Life

2009-11-22T13:05:00.003+01:00

Autumn is a beautiful time of year. Colors are vivid, the smell of burning leaves fills the air sometimes, crisp mornings are refreshing and not yet cold. There is a twinge of death in the air...yet it is peaceful, colorful. You know winter and her whites and grays are coming, you know the trees will be bare, you know the nights will be long and it will be cold.

But for now. In this season. Death is not scary.

I'm getting older. I realize that I'm still somewhat young and my life isn't going to end (hopefully) in the next few years...but still. I'm at a point in my life where I'm thinking along the lines of "Ok, I'm here. Somewhere. What do I do with my life now that I'm getting older? What do I with all that I have left of my youth? How do I build on what I've done with my youth--the good and the bad? What's next?"

I'm not afraid of getting older. I've already lost most of my hair so going gray doesn't scare me. Getting wrinkles? Too late. Have those. Creaky knees and ankles from too much basketball? Check. I am old. It's here. That's life.

This next poem deals with this.

I'm actually looking forward to this part of my life. To pick up broken pieces and build something new. To pursue dreams that were packed away in a suitcase somewhere. To not be so concerned about being "strong" and "youthful." But to let my leaves change colors. To realize I haven't much time left...to let my influence be felt beyond just me. Beyond my branches. But to let the colors of my leaves fall and let the winds spread them about.

I hope this poem conveys that.

Autumn’s Life

The days shorter will be.
The cold of the night
with every breath seen.
But the sun will shine
and the warmth will heal
and the colors of my life
will bleed
from greens to reds to yellows;
to colors of warmth.
My branches will spread
though weaker surely be;
no longer able to carry the summer
growth of my youth.
But flames of color;
burning, dancing flames will glow.
Shining even through morning’s fog
and evening’s rains.
Fires of passion, fires of desire;
flames of life
flickering—but not out.
And when this s season ends,
when winter finally calls
my branches will drop, as my eyes close.
They shall close—
in peace, in pride.
My leaves,
my colors,
my life,
will have fallen from the branches of my youth
and they shall fall.
They will fall at my feet,
at the foot of my deathbed
and winds from Heaven will descend
and the winds of winter beckoning
shall scatter my leaves abroad—
to horizons yet unseen.
My leaves.
My fire.
My life.
In reds and yellows
in colors of warmth
in colors of passion
in colors of life
will fly away and further beyond
the branches of my youth ever reached.

Summer of My Discontent

2009-11-08T12:58:00.002+01:00

This was a very difficulty poem to write. I wanted to show contradiction(s) in my life. To show I wish things were different but at the same time to offer hope for the future. It was also difficult because I wasn't sure how to analyze this part of my life. I can look back at my "Spring" and write about that from a reminiscent point of view. I can look to my future "Autumn" and "Winter" and try to imagine what it will be like. But to write about my "Summer," a "season" of here and now and yet still happening and not just a quick point in time...well, that was hard. I personally found it difficult and as a result I'm not too happy with this poem. But still...it needs to remain as it is.

Like I wrote earlier, who knows how I'll look back at these times in my life in the future. Makes me just wonder.

As I said, I'm not really happy with this poem but I'm standing by it. Two reasons:

A) I want to see how I change my outlook to this part of my life when I'm older. So, whether I like this or not...I sort of have to stick with it.
B) I didn't feel like I could go on and write about my "Autumn" or "Winter" without crossing this river, so to speak.

Summer of My Discontent

I've spread my arms to reach the stars,
I've spread my drams to cover my life.
Grown strong from the help of many,
grown weak from my pride and ego.
The light of the sun has warmed my face,
has allowed me to stand fest in my hopes.
The rains have watered me, the winds have strengthened me;
grown harder to take on life's next storm,
self protected in cynicism where honesty recognize I not.
Tall I've grown in ways I've never knew
small I remain in ways, to admit I refuse.
My days have been long
--what do I have to show? To share?
My nights have been short
--What have I wasted away?

My days grow ever shorter, for seasons do change.
My life's days passing by, for life's seasons for no man do wait.
Now my days grow shorter, cooler winds prevail,
my shadow stretches long, yet how far I must ask.
I stand here--somewhere--anywhere;
rooted and uprooted and planted and replanted.
I stand here strong, I stand here weak.
Many plans withered, many dreams torn away.
So much I've given away, so much just given up.
Yet stand I still, for better for worse.
Stand I yet, though the expected not the norm.
Summer days disappearing into Autumn's nights,
the changing of the seasons, the changes in my life.
Not where I hoped, not how I dreamed;
yet growing still do I remain.
Life's coming storms to survive.
Life's unexpected to expect.

Man, I'm Old.

2009-11-06T21:56:00.003+01:00

My friend Lisa told me I had to write something on the blog that was "happy." She must be a mom. "Stop arguing. Be nice. Write something happy." Yes ma'am. I feel grounded.

Well I took my kids to KFC tonight and KFC had some TVs running with old videos on them. Nothing like a little Luther Vandross and extra crispy chicken!!!! Well, "Summer Night City" from ABBA came on.

My daughter said, "I know them. They have really funky outfits."

I said, "Yeah...ABBA was the first group I really liked. They were the first band whose record I bought."

Not missing a beat...both kids: "What are records?"

Well, that's not really "happy" but, although it means I'm old, it's sort of funny. I hope this suffices the "happy" seeking moms out there.

Did You Look Me In The Eyes

2009-10-30T02:36:00.004+01:00

I wasn't planning on writing something like this. It just sort of came to me. Hit me out of the blue. A subtle, yet vicious, blast from the recent past.

I posted a few months ago about a friend of mine trying to raise awareness for child sex slavery and trying to stop it. Yes, I realize this is a horrible topic and, as a parent, literally scares the crap out of me. My mother once told me when I was a child that if anyone ever "touched" me she would kill them. You have to realize my mom is not a very intimidating person. And I never really understood her...until I had kids. Just the idea of my children being molested or raped will probably mean there will be one less person on this planet and I'll be serving time (of course, I'd wait till the perv got out of prison--I would want him to truly have justice served).

And yet...child molestation...let's call it like it is: child rape happens all the time and many people are profiting from this "trade" financially.

This youtube clip tackles this problem: The Story of Love 146. (Just type this in on youtube...warning: very disturbing. Nothing explicit...but if this video doesn't disturb you...I really don't know what to say if that's the case). It's the story of a little girl who was labled 146. She didn't even have the dignity of keeping her name.

Men come to these child sex warehouses and order the boys and girls like ordering from a freakin' value meal.

The thing that the narrator says stuck with him was the fire in the eyes of this little girl. She hadn't given up hope yet. Yet.

I hope you check out this video. I hope you help do something about this problem.

This poem is written for Love 146 and the thousands of other children forced into child sex slavery.

I hope you are disturbed.

Did You Look Me In The Eyes

Did you look me in the eyes?
when you came to seek me out?
when you came to find me?

Did you look me in the eyes?
when you came to buy my body?
when you came to sell your soul?

Did you look me in the eyes?
when you touched my body?
when you stole my innocence?

Did you look me in the eyes?
when you raped me of more than my youth?
when you slipped yourself inside me?

Did you look me in the eyes?
and see my fear?
see my hopelessness?

Did you look me in the eyes?
and still see the fire in me,
see revenge burning from my soul?

Did you look me in the eyes?
and see my broken heart?
or see my life destroyed?

Did you look me in the eyes?
and never feel an ounce of guilt
when you forced yourself on me?

Did you look me in the eyes?
when you brought me back
to be rented and raped by another like you?

Did you look me in the eyes?
then take a closer look
and see your mother, your sister, your daughter.

I’ll remember the look in your eyes
when I’m looking down on you
as you’re burning in Hell.

Season's Greetings???

2009-10-25T18:23:00.002+01:00

It’s been a while since I just sat down and wrote a poem. Although I’ve had some ideas swimming in my brain. Most have drowned. I’ve been spending so much time on my latest book (not so subtle message arriving…wait…wait…one more second…BUY IT WHEN IT COMES OUT!!!) that I haven’t been thinking about just writing something small. But today I did.

It’s the middle of Autumn now and the trees are starting to lose their beautiful colors. It’s been an amazing Autumn here in Germany. For some reason the trees were speaking to me this particular year. Um, no, I haven’t been eating any magic mushrooms, nor am I on a Lord of the Rings kick.

It’s just that I was thinking about how beautiful and colorful the trees are. No longer “strong” in the sense of Summer, and not yet dead in their wintery sleep. This got me thinking about my life and how, although I’m not necessarily “strong” I’m definitely leaving the "Summer" of my life entering into the "Autumn" of my life. And I was thinking about how all kinds of men of God seemed to do great things as they entered the “middle-age” part of their lives.

When we’re young and in the “Spring” of our lives, we’re growing, green, clue-less. Dependent on so many people—who can help us grow or die without us even being aware of their influence. Then we enter the “Summer” of our lives and we live for our ego. Plan, grow, invest, harvest, save, climb, plant, re-plan, re-evaluate, advance, hire, fire. Rinse, lather, repeat. And somewhere in there the dream-live-experiment-try-wonder phases of our lives seem to disappear. Sad.

At least that’s how I feel at times.

I'm just hoping I'm strong enough still to make sure that the color of my "Autumn" is brighter than I can imagine and that, though my leaves may fall, they scatter everywhere...leaving a (hopefully) positive, colorful influence everywhere the winds blow. And when I'm dead, then you can burn my leaves and the scent of my life will rise to the heavens and all passerby's will smell the smoke on crisp Autumn days.

Anyway...

I decided to write four poems. Each one dealing with the particular “seasons” of my life. And I want to do this every four or six or seven or what-ever-how-ever-many-years. I want to see how my thoughts change about the certain “seasons” of my life as I get older. I wrote the first today. I’ll continue to write the next three over the next few days and slowly post them.

I’m also interested to see how the style of each poem evolves. Will I write longer for the “warmer” months? Will winter be cold and short (I think so). Will my style change as I get older. Will I avoid getting older by using Oil of Olay?

Maybe I’ll never broach this subject again. Out of fear, perhaps. Maybe I’ll have completely different thoughts in 10, 20, 40 years from now. Maybe my ashes will be dissolving in the ocean by then. We’ll see.

Remembering Spring (38)

The rains came

tho’ I knew not why.

To grow, to shine,

to become more than just a boy.

So much my eyes did see,

so much I can’t recall.

What in my heart remained,

to someday understand it all?

As I look back in time

so fragile, weak and young.

Every person, every influence

me to shape, me to mold.

Innocence pure was I not,

yet full wonder, lust for life.

Where to grow, someday roam

answers, questions, future, promise.

Looking back, so much lost

in memories of childhood.

Remembering every tiny task impossible,

wonderment still that I grew.

With every year passing

memories vanish like vapors.

Reality, I fear to grasp, is

the spring of my life fading into shadows.

Get Your Motor Runnin'

2009-10-21T22:18:00.001+02:00

Ok, this is FANtastic. This is definitely something I want to be a part of in the future.

http://liveshots.blogs.foxnews.com/2009/10/21/french-fried-fuel-powers-school-buses/?test=latestnews

WHY I'm "going green"

2009-10-15T11:30:00.002+02:00

Going Green or being Enivornmentally Correct or being a Tree Hugger might be the "in" thing. It might be a "good" thing. It might be "politically correct." There are many reasons to be concerned with the safety/well-being of our planet.

Saving whales. Saving the rain forest. Having a place for our children and their children and their children and their... Leaving a smaller "footprint."

But I have a different reason. Don't get me wrong. All the above reasons are good. They are, for me, however, side-effects, if you will.

I'm "going green" because I'm a Christian.

Hmmm...the skeptic raises his eyebrows. The non-Christian thinks "good deed" thoughts. The conservative Christian says, "stupid...someday we'll be getting a new earth anyway so whatever we do now doesn't matter." I disagree.

Let me explain.

In Genesis, God told Adam and Eve to take care of his Garden (Genesis 1: 26, 28). Now, without being too theological or symbolic, one could argue (or should argue) that God instructed Adam and Eve and, thus, mankind, to take care of this planet.

Psalm 24 says, The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it. Now, if you're not a Christian you can always say, "whatever." But as a Christian, it should be our job to help take care of what is God's. Why?

Because God is coming back someday. Most Christian agree on this point. But let's look at this jsut a bit further.

In the book of Matthew alone (chapters 21, 22, 24 and twice in 25) Jesus tells stories about the Kingdom of God and how it's like a landowner coming back to his farm/winery and checking things out. And the returning landowner wants to see if his "employees" have done their job--taking care of his land--while he's been gone.

The first question is: are we taking these analogies seriously? The second question is: if we are taking our jobs seriously?

If God came back today I'm not sure he'd be too jazzed about how his backyard looks.

But here's the good news...in Acts 3 and in Romans (chapters 8 and 21) we read about the earth being "re-newed." So...there's hope that the damage that has been done (escpecially by developed countries) can be reversed. The crap that we've done to this earth (CO2 emitions, Valdez, water pollution in rivers, deforestation, melting of ice caps to name a few) can be fixed. We can re-new the damages we've done.

And finally we can read in Isaiah 65 and in the New Testament (2 Peter 3, Revelation 21) that someday we'll have a new Heaven and new Earth.

Now, does that mean God is going to erase everything and destroy everything and start over and put us back into "perfection?" Maybe. It could also mean that God is going to "re-new" everything...and through this process of renewal we'll eventually end up back in perfection...with God sitting on his throne and finally being jazzed about his newly renovated back yard.

I'm a Christian...and that's why I take topics, such as Climate Change, seriously. And if by me serving God by tending to his garden I can save whales, hug a tree, clean up some water, and leave a better planet for my children and their children, then that's cool.

Impoverished

2009-10-15T10:17:00.002+02:00

I wrote this poem after reading an article about a taxi driver-photographer from Turkey. The few photos that I saw were absolutely penetrating. I have been thinking about his pics plus one quote he had in the article.

I've been sitting on this for about a week. It's been haunting me.

"If all the money is controlled by a few monopolies, I believe it shows a country's poverty, not it's wealth."
--Sevket Sahintas, Turkish cab driver/photographer

"...just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me."
--Jesus

Impoverished

High rises, rising high
sun rises, suns sets
on cities which never sleep
wealth and fame
measures that shape
legacies of emptiness
inheritance of selfishness

If you've listened to what I've said
if you've listened to what I've done
we woudn't have to be here
watching a child sell herself for bread
we wouldn't have to leave here
praying to God not to be next

Hungry child, hunger pains
dreams die, hearts break
starving children sell themselves
greed plus more
success it's called
closing eyes of blindness
bystander sans innocence

If we'd just liste to what you're saying
if we'd just listen to you're pleading
we wouldn't still be stuck here
so many starving before they're dead
we wouldn't still be blinded
by greed and lust for more

Money makers, making cash
another day, another way
to turn my eyes from poverty
wealth and ego
the shame I wear
reeks of my arrogance
screams of my soullessness

Ride for the Environment

2009-10-15T09:36:00.004+02:00

I stole all this information. I make no apologies. It’s for a good cause. I’m like Robin Hood of the blogging world.

Any reader of my blog knows I love cycling. I love the speeds you can get while churning your legs. I love the burning in your calves when you’re climbing a 15% incline. I love hanging out with a bunch of guys on two wheels…I love almost everything about cycling. Butt cramps, not so much.

The benefits of cycling are mindboggling. Honestly, if most people would just look at the beneifits they would be completely surprised to see how many benefits cycling offers: physically, cconomically, and ecologically. Heck, I was surprised at how far the benefits ride (pardon the pun) and I cycle.

But here's the catch. The benefits only happen IF we make the benefits happen. IF we would all start cycling when we can. I’m not saying that we all need to become the next Lance Armstrong or Lon Hondelman. I'm just saying when we start changing our lifestyle just a little bit and start cycling when we can...like the small trips.

Do you realize that if we would start doing our local errands by bike instead of by car we’d reduce our health risks, we would get in better shape, we would prevent potential diseases. Not only that, but we’d save money on the following: health insurance, car insurance, gas, wear and tear on our cars. What’s not to love!?

AND…we’d helping in saving our environment. Again…what’s not to love about cycling—when we can—instead of getting in the car?

Here is the website where I got this information: http://croftonbikedoctor.com/page.cfm?pageID=285

I recommend reading the whole article since it also discusses personal health advantages. But for the sake of today’s post/theme, let’s stick with the environmental benefits of cycling.

Ride for the Environment

Motor vehicle emissions represent 31 percent of total carbon dioxide, 81 percent of carbon monoxide, and 49 percent of nitrogen oxides released in the U.S. (The Green Commuter, a publication of the Clean Air Council). A short, four-mile round trip by bicycle keeps about 15 pounds of pollutants out of the air we breathe. (WorldWatch Institute).

According to the Nationwide Personal Transportation Survey, 25 percent of all trips are made within a mile of the home, 40 percent of all trips are within two miles of the home, and 50 percent of the working population commutes five miles or less to work. Yet more than 82 percent of trips five miles or less are made by personal motor vehicle.

60 percent of the pollution created by automobile emissions happens in the first few minutes of operation, before pollution control devices can work effectively. Since "cold starts" create high levels of emissions, shorter car trips are more polluting on a per-mile basis than longer trips.

Michael Oppenheimer, the chief scientist at Environmental Defense, said, "If you reduced carbon dioxide, you'd begin to get rid of most of the stuff that causes these everyday respiratory problems. You'd start to get rid of the nitrogen oxides, which lead to the generation of smog. You'd start to get rid of sulfur dioxide, which leads not only to acid rain but to the tiny particles that people breathe, and which cause respiratory and cardiovascular problems."

Motor vehicle emissions represent 31 percent of total carbon dioxide, 81 percent of carbon monoxide, and 49 percent of nitrogen oxides released in the U.S. (The Green Commuter, a publication of the Clean Air Council). Short car trips (over distances that could easily be bicycled) are much more polluting than longer trips on a per-mile basis because 60 percent of the pollution resulting from auto emissions is released during the first few minutes of operation of a vehicle.

Bicycles are solely human-powered and use no fossil fuels. Bicycles currently displace over 238 million gallons of gasoline per year, by replacing car trips with bicycle trips.

Bicycles cost far less than automobiles to purchase and maintain, and do not require a continual intake of increasingly expensive gasoline. Between six and twenty bicycles can be parked in the space a motor vehicle requires for parking. Bicycles also cause little, if any, wear and tear on roadways.

Adult Conversations

2009-10-09T16:20:00.005+02:00

Today was a big day for me. I'm not sure if I should run and hide, cry, buy a gun, or just laugh. Either way...it's just absolutely amazing what we can learn from our kids.

These are two conversations I had with my daughter today. She is 12. And I am...well, old.

"We learned about a girl's period today in school."

Me: trying to allow the "Dad Filter" to focus on period and school and pray that she meant something about first period of school and not mean what she meant...this is beginning poorly.
"Um...what?!"

"You know about a woman's period, right?"

"Mm-hmm" trying to remember what chapter in The Official Daddy Manual this was covered in.

"Well, we learned about that today. We even got a tampon. Look!" Raising up her new show and tell toy.

Trying not to laugh..."Oh, well, um, yeah, that's a tampon all right."

"We have to push that in [us] when we start to bleed."

"Aaahhhh...ooohhhh. Hmmm." Feeling my head heat up as I'm about to pass out from this conversation.

In the meantime my son is laughing, because, well he's 9 and finds these things funny. He's not a dad yet.

"And do you know what the string is for?"

Thinking "I have a pretty good idea," I'm unable to answer, for my daughter-becoming-a-woman interrupts me.

"It's in case the tampon gets stuck."

I'm a dad...but I sort figured that one out.

In a related story...

About an hour later...after I figured the coast was clear and I could speak again without the fear of any sort of Grandparent's Revenge (which pretty much includes any and all interactions with your teen-age child) invading the moment, I decided to compliment my daughter on her new hair-do.

"Your hair looks nice." Then realizing there might be a reason (read: BOY) for why she's looking pretty, I ask, "Sssooo...what's his name? Who did you do your hair-do for?"

"Dad." Said, in the way that proves all parents have no idea what they're talking about. "I'm in puberty. I just wanted to look nice."

Oh. Ok. Well then.

Confusion

2009-10-07T14:25:00.002+02:00

I'm a little confused at the moment.

I just read a couple articles which horrified me. They were about two pilots who flew for the Argentinian Navy in the late 70s-early 80s. These men piloted planes and/or helicopters on so-called "death flights."

To make a long story a shocking, horrifying short story...at the time Argentina's dictator ordered many political dissidents into prison and sentenced many to death. One way to kill the opposition and leave little--or NO--traces was to fly over the ocean and throw the people--bound, blindfolded and drugged--into the ocean.

Fish food. Problem solved.

Well, these two pilots have been captured and are being extradited to face prosecution.

And the crowd goes wild! As a society we applaud this. We are thankful for justice being served.

There was the case of a former SS soldier wanted on war crimes during the Nazi regime's mass murdering of millions of Jews, gypsies, and non-Aryans. He was in Cleveland, if I'm not mistaken, and finally shipped off to Germany to pay for the crimes he committed. Many of us were surprised...yet the crime cannot go unpunished.

Again, we, as a society, usually applaud such captures. "Justice never sleeps!" we cry, or "You can't run from the law!" we hail.

Aaaahhhh...the joys of being the moral standard.

And then...we close our eyes when someone we admire commits a crime. We hail his "artistic" achievements...we lash out at the authorities who have captured him after 20+ years calling it a "witch hunt!" We stand up and pine for the day when this criminal, this rapist, this sexual predator will be released from unfair captivity to create a new "masterwork."

Um, I don't get it.

Roman Polanski drugs a teen age girl, rapes her and then runs from the law for 20+ years and his capture (much like that of any criminal on the run) is suddenly deemed, as a friend of mine says, "bullsh**!"

Why? Because he makes films? And by the way, some of his films absolutely suck. He should be locked away to keep us from those pieces of crap. Yet, I digress.

If the argument is "his victim forgave him." There are many Jews who have forgiven the German soldiers who did unspeakable things. There are many victims who, for the sake of moving on with their lives, have forgiven their captures/rapists/murderers of their family. Does that make their crime suddenly "ok" or "non-punishable?"

If the argument is "that was sssoooo long ago, why are we still worried about this?" then we need to stop hunting war criminals in Bosnia, Argentina, or anywhere else for that matter. We need to stop looking for clues to solve murders. We need no longer worry about the people who were slaughtered in Darfur.

Better yet, let's go a step further. Let us allow all prisoners who have been incarcerated for 20+ years out. Why not? I mean, it's been sssoooo long. This makes sense, right?

Ok, maybe I'm being foolish.

We shouldn't stop hunting criminals nor should we let prisoners free...unless, of course, they are "artists."

Why People are Stupid

2009-10-01T12:22:00.003+02:00

I'm at a cross-roads in my life. A crisis, some may say. Others might say I'm in a funk. Either way you look at I have still found the resolve to look at things and laugh and completly lose my faith in humanity.

Why? Because people ARE FREAKIN' IDIOTS!

Case Study 1: In Germany I can't get a teaching job in my field (History / Social Studies) because I have a Teaching Certificate in those areas. Yes, I have a Teaching Certificate to TEACH and I am being denied because I do not have a "diploma" in said areas of study.

Why is this frustrating? First of all, I'm unemployed. But the main problem is the common sense, or lack thereof, involved in this. If someone has a degree in History he/she may teach...nevermind they have never taken any class room courses, child psych(o?) classes, worked in a school, did student teaching. Nnnnoooo...but they have studied the stuff, so they get to teach.

Don't get me wrong, I applaud the schools for finding ways of hiring new teachers. I find it HIGHLY MORONIC, however, to deny TRAINED teachers when there is a shortage of teachers in Germany. Because, that would, well, make sense.

Case Study 2: I'm loooking for scholarship offers for a Master's Degree (which will perhaps allow me to finally teach over here). I just saw a scholarship offer for minorities. This is not surprising (racist, yes, but not surprising). What really irks me is that one of the minorities is GENDER!!!!! NOT race. GENDER. And do you know who is considered a gender minority? WOMEN!!!

I have nothing against women. I like women. I find them extremely intelligent, sexy and attractive. I want my daughter growing up pursuing whatever it is her heart desires. I want no hurdles in my daughter's way--nor in any woman's way--towards higher education.

But...um...well...you see...there are MORE women in the world than men. HOW, please, before I jab my eyes with a burning splinter of wood, explain how that makes women a minority?

Case Study 3: There is a scholarship offer for people who are left handed. Being left handed, according to the website, is considered a "handicap." What the...aaarrrggghghghghghgahhgl!!!! Seriously, who came up with this idea? The Winstom-Salem Witchhunt Superstition Organization? Was this scholarship founded in 1245?

What about baldness? Hemrroids? Lisps? Crooked teeth? Bow-legged? Uni-brow?

Happy Birthday, Meg

2009-09-14T01:35:00.002+02:00

I recenetly entered the "Cool Daddy Hall of Fame." If you ask me, I've always been cool...if you ask my friends and family they'll tell you the truth. BUT...if you ask my kids...well, they're still young enough to be brainwashed.

As in the case with my newly 12 year old daughter, Meaghan. She turned 12 last week (I'M OLD!!!!!) so I took her to go see Amy Macdonald in concert at the Zeltfestival in Bochum, Germany. I got major brownie points with that one!

There were about 5000 people max in the giant tent...so it had a pretty intimate feel to it. And, well, we got pretty close, so that was cool, too. How close? Glad you asked...

Here are a couple links from youtube. The best part is that these were filmed right about where I was standing. Where I was standing and not we. You see...I taught Meg the art of weaseling your way up to the front. 12 years old and front-freakin'-row for her second concert. Wow!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oZPq97US-C0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3pTdIFyTEc

I'd post some pics myself but my lawyer has advised against it...something about paparazzi and wanting to run for president someday. Or maybe because my camera only took blurry pics. Anyway...we'll always have youtube.

Amy came out looking, well, um, confused. A dress very likely designed by Serena Williams (as in: NOT flattering) and high heel shoes stolen from the Las Vegas All-Star Hooker Catalog (ok, not that I was complaining on this one)...despite her "look" I still proposed about 12 times.

She started out with Poison Prince...threw two cover versions into the mix (The Killers' Mr. Brightside and Springteen's Dancing in the Dark), two songs I didn't know (either covers or not yet on CD), a fantastic version of Run and then ended with Let's Start a Band, all while covering her entire album. And since she only has one, well, it wasn't hard to sing along. Especially since I've heard it about 23472 times.

But the best part was after the lights came on...and the show was over...the music was over...the crowd was buzzing...our ears were ringing...

A not-so-little-anymore-girl of almost 12 came running up to me with a HUGE smile..."THAT. WAS. AWESOME!!!!!!" and gave me a HUGE hug.

Totally worth the price of admission.

Point 3 of 3 (for Amy...or for anybody, for that matter)

2009-09-08T10:55:00.002+02:00

Point 3: TODAY. NOW. To quote another Jesus, Jesus Jones, (or Fat Boy Slim depending on your musical taste(s)), "RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW."

So much of Christianity’s teachings get skewed because so many Christians are like me. Idiots. Hypocrites. Morons. Selfish. Egoistic. Shall I go on?

We think--and therefore teach--that Christianity is a check-list religion. We think--and therefore teach--that Christianity is all about putting our hope in something for when we are finally dead. There is so much more to the teaching of Jesus than what most people think it is. It’s NOT: follow some god, give up all that you like, don’t do this, do that, sacrifice and like it, live life from a check-list. It’s NOT punish, reward (maybe), punish (definitely), do, don’t.

And another thing…Christ doesn’t just offer hope for the afterlife. He offers hope for today. In his own words he wants us to have a life that overflows. A life everlasting…but a life that is worth living for today! God tells us he wants to indwell us. He wants to reside in us. He wants to be a part of our lives. He loves us. He wants to cherish us like a bride.

Jesus is a living God…his resurrection proves that. He wants a relationship with you. He wants to guide us in truth. He wants to love us. He wants to hang out with us. Why? Back to point 1…GOD is in our DNA!!!

It’s kind of a weird journey. One starts out at today, contemplating. Then one fast forwards to the grave and beyond, full of questions and even doubts. Then rewinds into the history of mankind…and there we find different “ways” that offer us hope for us after we die…yet, like a needle in a haystack we find a way—but, to be more honest it’s THE way—the choice to follow is ours. This way just doesn’t offer hope for us once we’re six feet under…it fast forwards back to our life, back to our today and gives us hope and reason to keep living, to want to live, to desire to live.

Point 2 of 3 (For Amy)

2009-09-07T23:16:00.002+02:00

Point 2: Jesus…by process of elimination. I know, I know…picking Jesus as the last option is sort of like being the last kid picked in gym class. Kind of sucks.

Bare with me. Jesus does.

Just to clarify, if I just say “I believe in Jesus because my pastor/parent/spiritual advisor told me to.” Well, that’s sort of like being a robot. At least by thinking this through I can’t be accused of being a copy-cat.

First of all…I can’t get into the whole reincarnation thing. I recently had a conversation with a guy who believed in reincarnation…and as we sat there discussing this theory, even he admitted that there was one particular “hole” in reincarnation and this "hole" was a “huge hole.”

This “hole” is called BASIC MATH. There is absolutely no way for every person who dies to replace the masses that are being born just seconds later. Allow me to channel my inner Dwight Schrutte…FACT: More people are born per day than die. Hmmm…I guess we could assume we are reincarnated into animals…but, really? Honestly?

Assuming this basic math problem can be addressed (and, by the way, it can’t) there is yet another problem. Another hole in reincarnation is brought to light by asking one of the next two questions (or both, if you’re greedy): What is good enough? and/or Who decides what is good enough? If the basic premise of reincarnation is to be good enough and I’ll eventually enter into a higher caste or a higher state of self consciousness, who is the final authority of what “good enough” is? Me? If so, I’m good enough (of course, that means ignoring the skeletons pouring out of my closet). You? If so, I probably suck. God? Um, he’s sort of, kind of against reincarnation.

Ok, so maybe reincarnation has some flaws…there are still a lot of gods out there to chose from. But I can’t get into the multiple and/or man-made gods. How does this work again? I make up a god, form it from rock or wood or clay, give him/her some sibling gods, then worship them and pray for things like rain, food, prosperity and inner peace? How does this make sense? I just made the freakin’ thing and now I’m supposed to bow down to it? Really, how does this make sense?

And doesn't this sort of make the gods like department heads? One for rain, one for sun, one for healing, one for babies, one for love, one for food, one for Ohio State football (they need all the help they can get). Call it checks and balances if you will...I call it "gods not being strong enough to be handle everything." No thanks.

Allah doesn’t do it for me either…and it’s not because of the Islamic extremist terrorism angle. A) I have plenty of Muslim friends over here in Germany who love their families, love their communities, love their neighbors. They are great people, moral people, honorable people, and B) there are plenty of Christian extremists out there, too…not exactly bringing honor and glory to our God.

The reason Allah doesn’t work for me is his major prophet Mohammed. He was arguably a good guy, a prophet, a man with great teachings. The single problem I have with Mohammed is Mecca. Not the pilgrimage. The grave. Here is a prophet who claimed to have the keys to the afterlife…and he’s dead. This is sort of like having a guitar teacher who can’t play the instrument. Or getting swim lessons from someone who can’t swim.

I’m not saying he wasn’t a good guy. I’m not saying he didn’t do good things. I’m not saying his teachings were bad. I’m just saying he’s dead. It’s a simple, factual observation that this particular prophet is dead.

Finally we come to Jesus. Not as catchy or flashy as the other picks. Not politically correct. His followers, unfortunately me included, often give off a negative vibe about Christianity. Doesn’t always seem to be “cool” since he wants us all to sacrifice the things in our lives that we may like.

And kind of an arrogant jerk when you first listen to this quote: “I am the way, the truth and the life, no one comes to the Father but through me.” In other words…there is ONE way to God…ME! Not the greatest of pick-up lines if you ask me.

BUT…

Here’s the thing…his death is probably the most talked about/recorded death in the history of man-kind (with absolutely no apologies to the Michael Jackson fans out there). Even more so than Mohammed I would imagine. But Jesus’ story doesn’t end there…it doesn’t end with his followers going to his grave to worship over his bones.

He rose from the dead. It’s documented. It has yet to be dis-proved (for the cynics out there who don’t believe it…that’s fine…the facts show there are still more proofs for his resurrection than that against it).

The man called it! He predicted his death and died. Ok, anyone can do that...I admit. BUT...He predicted that he’d rise up from the grave. And he did that! Doesn’t it make sense to follow the one guy who claimed to have the keys to the afterlife and actually backed up his claims? Doesn’t it make sense to actually listen to the pick-up line when it actually is the truth?

Yes. I know. I know. We all have our own “way” to/for dealing with the afterlife…but if Jesus is the only one to actually back up the claim of having the answer for the afterlife doesn’t that stand for something? Doesn’t listening to what he has to say make a lot more sense than following mathematically skewed philosophies and dead prophets?

But it’s not just about the after life…it’s about…

Tomorrow: Point 3

Point 1 of 3 (for Amy)

2009-09-06T13:55:00.002+02:00

First of all, I want to send my condolences to a friend from the past, Amy. She lost her father recently and…well, I know first hand that words don’t really do the trick when one is going through tough times and grieving. But I also know first hand that someday that the fact the words were said do mean something. Amy, in time you’ll feel better. Just know that there are people out there who feel for you and your family. We just don’t always know what to say.

But I’m going to try to say something…or somethings, that Amy got me to thinking. A recent post by Amy is the reason—or one of the reasons—for this post.

Due to her father’s passing, Amy said she would be doing a lot of thinking about the afterlife. It just so turns out that I had been having a lot of conversations about the afterlife with some friends. And I just wanted to share—especially with Amy—what I’ve been thinking.

There are a few points that I always end up landing on. I don’t get hung up on the issues or confused…it’s just that I always land on them and consider these points pretty significant. Life altering or life shaping, if you will.

Point 1: The afterlife is in our DNA. That sounds goofy to say. It even looks goofy in print. But every society/culture/religion—big or small—deals with spiritual beings and the afterlife. Here’s some proof: The Greek gods. The Roman gods. The Native Americans' rain dance. Allah. Nirvana. Reincarnation. The Pyramids. Witchdoctors. The boat man. The river Styx. Sainthood. Even Jehovah Witnesses wasting all of our time standing on the street corner passing out leaflets full of false prophecies speak of people’s concerns with the afterlife.

Even people who deny the afterlife are acknowledging it as an option by denying it. Trust me. Just let that one sink in for a while.

The afterlife is there--if we choose to accept it or ignore it. It’s part of us. But I think it goes beyond religious beliefs or cultural mores or societal inclinations. It goes to our core.

According to the Bible we were made in God’s image. Part of that “image” is spirit…part of our DNA, if you will, handed down from God is that of the spiritual. Thus, it makes sense that spiritual things such as the afterlife would be ingrained in us.

This is one of the points I’m “stuck” on. My longings to live beyond the grave are not just pipe dreams like a Pharaoh might have…but these longings are a part of me…because God’s DNA is a part of me. I don't think I'm the only one who wants to live beyond the grave. In fact, history proves it. This whole God and DNA argument might seem a little quirky, and that's fine...I think, however, I can offer you some proof of that, too. Just be patient.

One might argue, “That’s nice for you” or “Maybe that works for you, but not for me” or “I don’t believe in God so it doesn’t really matter.” That’s cool. I’m not trying to force feed any belief down anyone’s throat.

But it does bring me to Point 2. And Point 2 starts to clarify things a bit.

Tomorrow: Point 2.

My Name

2009-08-30T21:52:00.002+02:00

Why do we care about the after life? EVERY religion that believes in God, or a god, man is faced with the after life. Why is that?

Is it because we are scared? Is it because we don't really want to die? Is it because we don't want people to forget about us...even though we're just dust and bones? At least our memories can live on within the minds and imaginations of our loved ones, right?

Is it because we are truly made in God's image...and part of that image is a "spirit-being" and part of that image--or all of that image--lives forever in a realm we can't comprehend?

Well, this poem is influenced by two things. First of all from Revelation 2:17. And from this train of thought: How will I be remembered long after I'm dead--not just in preceding generations...but LONG after I'm gone.

My Name

My name is
what I am
My name is
all that I have
My name is
what I will be
My name is
what I give my children

My name may
last forever
My name may
rise above me
My name may
inspire generations
My name may
live long after I have tasted death

My name will
be remembered
My name will
survive my faults
My name will
be etched in stone
My name will
be white and pure

My name is
what I make of it
My name is
history in the making
My name is
what you name me
My name is
awaiting in eternity

Winds

2009-08-25T22:38:00.003+02:00

Something happens when I get in the writing groove.

I end up locked in my apartment. I don't talk to anyone at any great length...if at all. I live for days on a steady diet of cookies, m&m's, chocolate, ice cream, coke and an occasional beer. I chew tobacco or smoke cigars. I watch movies that have to do with darkness, man's longing for eternity, death and life. I listen to The Cure and U2's earlier releases. I don't sleep until dawn...then I sleep till about noon.

And I write and write and write and write.

And I feel more alive than I usually do...even while my eyes are crossing.

I'm in the middle of a writing marathon which has me thisclose to finally being done with what will hopefully be my second book. I have six chapters to go of 49 in total. I'm exhausted...but I'm feeling strangely rejuvinated.

I haven't posted any poems recently...so I thought I'd take a break from my writing binge and post this poem I wrote not too long ago. I never posted it on this site, and I hope I never posted it on Consumed's site...if I did: Jamie, I'm sorry.

Without further ado...finally another poem...hope you enjoy...

Winds

Not sure where they come from
Can’t point in any one direction
Sometimes they surround
Sometimes they merely prod
Those winds of—

Carried away in directions unexpected
To places not on any map
Foregone conclusions
Simply blown back to the past
By winds of—

Your winds carry me away
Your winds
Uncontrollable winds from your soul
You Spirit guides me like wind
Like beautiful, unstoppable wind
Your winds
Your winds carry
Carry me to you

Letting them carry us off
As if flying above our worlds
Taking us to highest of highs
Then hurling us back to earth
These winds of—

Landing somewhere foreign
Misery and joy unexpected guests
The landscapes so unfamiliar
Yet footprints remain
Kept by winds of—

Silence seems to reign at times
Dry and arid, no relief in sight
And the yearning begins
The tears flow down
To feel the winds—

Employment?

2009-08-24T09:56:00.003+02:00

I always the thought the name of The Kaiser Chiefs first CD was brilliant. Employment. As in, "Holy Cow! If people actually buy this CD we'll be earning an income!" or "We're going to get paid for basically doing nothing! AWESOME!!!" The fact that a struggling band would not-so-and-yet-so subtley admit to "Whew! We really need some cash right about now!" or "SUCKERS!!!!" is refreshing to me.

Why?

Because I'm unemployed at the moment. And I need employment. (Like that last statement wasn't a given. I truely am an idiot...my stupidity sometimes amazes even me.) And hopefully, someday, my ship will come in.

The bad news: I like food. One needs money to buy food. When one does not have any money one hunts. When one does not own hunting gear one eats road kill.

The good news: I've started writing again. This is by far my biggest dream...to actually be a paid writer. And being depressed and unemployed seems like a good time to start up again.

I had gotten up to chapter 25 of 49 in my next "project" a few months back...but stopped writing for a while. But since I've got a bit of down time on my hands...I've picked up my clicky-pencil and have started writing again...getting back into the mind of Argot.

(For those of you who know what I'm talking about...Argot is safe and sound...for the moment. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about...stay tuned.)

And the other good news is that I may actually have a teaching job which, according to the school principle, will allow me to become certified here in Germany. His "source" is the Ministry of Education here in NRW, Germany.

However, I'm beginning to think Winston Smith actually works for this particular "Ministry"...and that's not a good thing.

I just want to see this "good thing" (job with potential of certification) in writing. Of course, that would be the opposite of faith, but still...

So, to sum up...while trying to secure some form of employment I lost my employment, thus becoming unemployed. However, in my situation of not having employment I have taken on the course of pursuing my hopefully-future employment of writing...and all the while it turns out I may have stumbled on to some sort of permanent teaching employment here in Germany.

Of course if I don't get this teaching job I'm going to end up living in an attic with fingerless gloves typing away at some manuscript like some bohemian in Eastern Europe...and that might not be a bad thing!

The Emerald Isle

2009-08-20T01:53:00.012+02:00

For one last look at our time in Normandy scroll down. I forgot that I wrote something and saved it as a draft. If your interested scroll down...if not...just stay here.

Well, my journies through Europe have finally ended. Sort of...well, I'm still here, so I guess the journey isn't completely over. My journey now just simply involves finding a job.

My buddy, Adil, and I rode over 500 km in the rain, some sun, more rain, partly cloudy, then more rain, drizzle, and then, just for fun, some more rain. By the way, we got wet. We even got hailed on. Fortunately we found some shelter before the storm...but we were stranded for about two hours on that day.

Blogging world, meet Adil. It may have been raining that day...I'm not sure.

We slept in hostels and in the airport. We met people from Germany, America, England, the Basque region, Italy, Poland...and, of course, Ireland.

We were warned to get out of a certain town, Tallagh, as soon as possible while fixing a flat...the exact quote was: "Jesus Christ! You're lucky to be alive!" And the man wasn't kidding. Every time we mentioned Tallagh to an Irishman/woman he/she gave us the same look or said something like, "Ooooohhhhh, yeah you don't want to be there." One woman even told us, "Ugh, Tallagh! Yeah, there's shootins and stabbins all the time there!" I'm pretty sure those quotes are going to be used in Tallagh's upcoming Tourism Campaign.

We missed out on seeing U2 perform in Dublin. And you have NO idea how this pains me.

We waxed eloquent with some German students. I had a good time discussing theology with a theology student, Burkhart. This is what Burkhart looked like after 4 pints.

We got invited into the home of a cycling family. They offered us tea, some bisquits, and some fruit...plus gave us great directions and a book of "things to do in SE Ireland."

We cycled a portion of the Ring of Kerry in suicidal conditions...driving rain and blowing-us-to-a-standstill wind. This is me...somewhere on the Ring. We didn't see much.

We talked to about 2354 locals...all of whom were the nicest people we've ever met. Except for two of them.

This is what one of the locals looked like after five pints.

I peed 20 times in a 24 hour span. That has to be a record of some kind, right? Right? Thankfully there are no photos of this.

We, or at least I, actually saw a guy give another guy a head-butt to the nose in a pub. And they were friends. "I'm fine. He's just drunk. He's a friend of mine," is what he told us later. Ok, well then.

We kept running into a Basque rider along our route. We saw him on three different days. Me thinks he was stalking us. He probably felt the same way.

We got held up by dogs...literally. The two mongrols wouldn't let us ride on...Adil was ready with his pepper spray. My defense was to just wet myself. Sadly, we didn't have time to think about taking a pic of our four legged beasties. Something about panic.

We went up, we went down, we went up, we went down, we went up, we went down...rinse, lather, repeat. The largest incline we had was 16%.

We spent some time on a "beach" full of rocks while S-curving along the cliffs of the SE coast. The best part of this beach was the noise the water made as it crawled back into the ocean...the sound of the rocks moving against each other due to the force of the water. Definitely worth the price of admission.

We stopped into a restaurant to warm up...on July Freaking 31st!!! Middle of the summer and we needed soup and tea to get us back on the road.

We stripped off our clothes on a ferry boat because the one "room" they had was heated. (Again, there are no photos of this...maybe). There we were, half naked, with our clothes hanging on a heater and a couple on a motorcycle walked in. They just looked at us with expressions that said, "Ooookkkkk, we'll just wait out in the cold and rain." Welcome to Ireland! Now take off your clothes!

We kept the Guinness brewery in business for a week. (Like they need our help)

We got told to "piss off" by one of the locals who didn't like German being spoke in his pub. The exact quote was: "Sounds like you've got a long way ahead of you...now, piss off!" This was doubly funny since we stopped into the pub where Moby Dick was filmed and were greeted with 4 sets of cold eyes before we chose the "nicer" establishment. I'm pretty sure this guy won't be the face of Ireland's upcoming Olympic campaign. Ireland 2020: Now Piss Off!

We listened to live Irish music by four guys who made the Rolling Stones look young. Everybody is standing up because the custom apparently is to play the Irish National Anthem as the last song. I think they just covered "Closing Time" since the "Anthem" seemed to coincide with the last round of drinks.

It was in this pub that the guy standing to "Closing Time" to the left referred to us as "ye." As in "that's where ye are going." Aaahhhh, the joys of the King James Version of Biblical English!

We had the greatest bike tour we've ever taken. It was fantastic. Definitely going back!!!

Good Cause II

2009-08-20T01:09:00.004+02:00

Another friend of mine, Occh, is involved in helping orphans in South Africa. The chilfen he is helping have been orphaned due to the AIDS epidemic in Africa. The great thing is that Occh is not alone in his fight. And now you--WE--can help!

I know, I know...two straight blogs (posted within minutes of each other) asking for money. Please bare with me...

A) I'm not asking for money for myself.
B) Anyone who knows anyone affected by diabetes might want to help Kathy out.
C) Anyone who is a parent should want to help out this next one.

I personally cannot imagine my children being forced into something like this.

Here are exerpts from two current emails Occh recently sent out.

The saddest consequence of being an orphan is the exploitation that so often occurs. Instead of taking care of these children, the world abuses them for its own sick pleasure. The reality is, there are millions of girls and boys around the world, typically 8-12 years old, who are kidnapped or sold to become sex slaves to sick men who often are older than their fathers.

Without saying anymore, you have to watch this video. It's not graphic, but you will be moved: The Story of Love 146

I'm sure you are deeply saddened. Hopefully you are angry. You may have sobbed like me. But this is our opportunity to do something about it...

YOU Can Help End It!

Well, we've given you several free, tangible ways to help us benefit Love146 and Bethesda Outreach in their endeavors to save orphans from the potential life of child prostitution. Many of you have gotten involved...

However, if we're serious about ending child sex slavery, we are going to have to finance it. Your money can help end it!

If you are interested you can get more info at either of these websites:

http://www.ballforlives.com/

http://www.dribbletheworld.com/

Please help in the fight against child sex slavery.

Good Cause I

2009-08-20T00:55:00.004+02:00

This is an email I got from a friend of mine, Kathy. I wanted to make sure more people read about this and hopefully might be able to help her.

Support Kathleen Maguire-Stoudt in the 2009 Walk to Cure Diabetes

Greetings! I'm writing to you to ask for your support in a very special cause.

This year, I'll be taking part in the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation's Walk to Cure Diabetes along with a half-million other walkers across the country.

Our goal: To raise $105 million to help fund research for a cure for type 1 diabetes and its complications.

Type 1, or juvenile, diabetes, is a devastating, often deadly disease that affects millions of people--a large and growing percentage of them children.

As many of you know, this disease has greatly devastated my family. Three of my five brothers have the disease, including John who lost his battle in 2007. We miss him greatly! We also lost my cousin Kathy Murphy at the young age of 29.

I am pledging to walk to help raise money to fight Juvenile Diabetes on Oct. 18 in the Reading, PA area. Please join me on our walk or donate what you can.

There is good news though, scientists say that a cure for type 1 diabetes is within reach. In fact, JDRF funding and leadership is associated with most major scientific breakthroughs in type 1 diabetes research to date. And JDRF funds a major portion of all type 1 diabetes research worldwide, more than any other charity.

I'm writing to ask for your support because now more than ever, EACH of us can be a part of bringing about a cure. Each of us can make a real differenceWon't you please give to JDRF as generously as you're able?

Together, we can make the cure a reality.Thank you,Kathy Maguire-StoudtPlease visit my Walk Web page if you would like to donate online or see how close I am to reaching my personal goal:http://walk.jdrf.org/walker.cfm?id=87398171

Follow this link to make a donation:http://walk.jdrf.org/support.cfm?id=87398171

© 2009 Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. All rights reserved.

Heidelberg/Worms

2009-08-20T00:35:00.004+02:00

Ok, this is the last stop of our Felske/Stearns Euro Tour. By this time we were all ready for our own beds after doing youth hostels of modern and musty natures, after tallying some 3756 kilometers in approx. 374 driving hours.

We found a really cool hostel here...hopefully the future home for me. I love Heidelberg...there is so much to love about this city. A beautiful castle, great roads for cycling, young/dynamic night life, great shopping, an Irish Pub (well, just because), an international feel to it and the scenery is absolutely beautiful...especially in the Fall.

This is the castle. As if you couldn't figure that one out. That's why I'm here, folks!

Ok, this little tower do-hickey is at the end of one of the bridges that lead into Heidelberg from across the River Neckar. In this tower the city's Poet Laureate lives. And if you think I would never take this job...you don't know me. Live by a castle, hang out in one of the coolest cities in Europe and get paid to write poetry? Sign me up!

This is just a taste of what the city buildings look like. Not much else to say, really.

On our way home (finally) we stopped in Worms. We checked out the Martin Luther monument where he stood against the Roman Catholic Church at the Diet of Worms.

Then we went to this cemetery. It's the oldest Jewish cemetery in all of Europe (going back to the 11th century!)...which I found extremely interesting, seeing as though it's in Germany. It just made me wonder why Hitler didn't try to erase all possible traces of Judaism that were in Germany. Not that I'm saying that's ok...I'm simply saying here is a man at the head of one of the worst atrocities ever and yet no matter what he did...there was no way he could have erased everything. More proof of God keeping score, I guess.

We'll Always Have Paris

2009-08-20T00:16:00.004+02:00

The family and the Eiffel Tower.

And my daughter looks stoned.

Come to think of it...so does my mom!

Momomi and the kids in front of Montmartre. The whole area up there is ridiculous. Small little shops, small cafés. Even an Irish Pub...well, because it just fits. Right? A great place to hang out...just avoid the sketch artists. Don't even make eye contact...they know...they just do!

Paris is incredible. I highly recommend it. Not in the way I "highly" recommend Amsterdam, though (wink, wink). (Somewhere in the realm between here and childhood reality, Flat Stanley is hiding the truth)

Back to my point...incredible city. Alive. And I mean ALIVE. We did the Louvre, we did Versailles, we did the Eiffel Tower, we did that one famous graveyard with Jim Morrison in it but I'm too lazy and/or tired to even Google the name of it, we the Arc d' Triumph, we did Notre Dame (and this time I took my hat off before we walked in--last time I walked in with a baseball cap on...wasn't even thinking and then some old Parisian woman started berating me...well, I didn't give that old bitty the satisfaction this time!), we did Montmartre...aaaahhhhh. What a great place.

We even did Paris traffic. One word: Sucks royally.

Yes, that was two words, but I needed two words to underscore the importance of the first word. It's my blog, so shut up!

Here are my lovely children in front of the gardens at Versailles. Yes, that's my princess making a pig face at a castle. I'm a proud father!

That's my son, being smart enough to realize that such pics can and will be used against them on first dates and laughing at his sisters eminent demise!!!

We ate dinner at a small restaurant and the restaurant owner's cat sat at our table with us. Never moved a bit...even as Nate was jabbing a fork into his eyeball. Just kidding! PETA, that was just a joke!

We did the River Seine, too. If you want a great taste of Paris, you need to walk down the river...just walk and take it all in. Trust me...you won't be disappointed.

Last of Normandy

2009-07-17T23:31:00.006+02:00

This was actually supposed to get posted about a month ago. Oops.

Kids are kids. My kids did a great job of travelling and being patient while we adults checked stuff out. But they're still kids and needed to have fun, too.

We stayed in an ancient hostel in Normandy. And by ancient I mean no internet access. The woman who ran the hostel didn't punch up our overnight costs on a register...or a calculator. She wrote them out on paper. Is that tax-deductable? Thankfully they did have running water.

It was a musty smelling place but, well, like I said the building was ancient. Probably built before the US was even a solidified collection of colonies. Not kidding. It was like a place straight out of Les Mis. (Yes, I know, Les Mis takes place after the colonies had won their freedom and become a country...I'm just saying)

The cool thing was that they were having a middle ages fair. We all had a great time. My son climbed a 15 foot pole in record time and got a candy bracelet (we're going to translate that talent into robbing a bank someday...stay tuned), my daugther bought a bow and arrow set...

We saw all kinds of pre-Trekkie geeks all geeked out in their garb.

They even got their kids involved. Cute. I think.

I met a fair maden who hadn't showered in three weeks. Not so fair.

More Normandy

2009-07-17T23:10:00.004+02:00

Besides visiting Omaha Beach, we also went to The Point du Hoc. This is the famous rocky cliff that US troos scaled/bombed to take over and secure. This was a vital point as to keep the Germans from being able to defend the Omaha and Utah beaches.

The bunkers were amazing. HUGE cement bunkers that would have kept those soldiers safe and helped them snipe our soldiers out of the water...which they were. Even more amazing were the "pot holes" in the ground. Giant craters left from Allied bombs.

As I'm writing this I'm reminded of the book Red Badge of Courage. I have no idea how I would react in war. I'd like to think I'd be heroic for my country and for my fellow soldiers. Especially after reading some of the stories of the D-Day veterans...dead and/or survived. But I'm not sure how I would really react.

Killing someone...or many. Someone's son. Daddy. Brother. Being bombed...carpet bombed. Would I run? Would I stand my ground? Would I rescue someone? Would I just want to get home to my children?

Anyway...here are some pics.

July 4th, 2009

2009-07-17T17:49:00.003+02:00

We spent July 4th in a solemn place. We didn't shoot off fireworks. We didn't BBQ. We didn't go crazy with with the USA chants. My mom wore a USA T-shirt from Old Navy and the rest of us were sort of normal. Nothing crazy this year.

Solemn.

We spent July 4th at Omaha Beach. As in...Private Ryan openning scene. As in...the place were some 10,000 American troops were killed on D-Day.

It was wierd. As we drove into the area there were signs for restaurants, hotels, the Omaha Beach Golf Course. We saw people playing in the water. Jogging on the beach. Walking hand in hand.

Life goes on. It has to. And it has for the people of France. And that's ok.

But if it wasn't for those British, Canadian, and American troops back on June 6th, 1944...there might not be hotels and restaurants and golf courses.

Here's my mom on Omaha Beach.

The beach itself was just a reflective place. Trying to imagine the bodies. The blood. The

shooting, the bombing. The smell of death. It was no longer there. But it was still there.

Then we visited the cemetary. Rows and rows and rows and rows and rows and rows of fallen soldiers.

The grave of an unkowns soldier...this was by far not the only one.

When we left the site there was a wall with at least 2000 names. Those were the names of the soldiers whose remains were never found. Washed away at sea. Burned to death.

Solemn.

Not the most festive July 4th. But by far my most memorable. That's one day I'll never forget.

And not to sound cliché...but I hope and pray it's a day we never forget. June 6th, that is.

The Last Stop: Brussels

2009-07-16T19:24:00.005+02:00

This was probably the best Dave Matthews Show I've ever seen. Played four of my all time favorites (Crash Into Me, Two Step, All Along the Watchtower, and Don't Drink the Water). And I was only about 40 feet from center stage!

I missed Don't Drink the Water since I'm an idiot and thought the band started at 8. They started at 6 but were 45 minutes late. We still would have made it but there was a human traffic jam that prevented the scanning machines from reading the tickets properly. Imagine 88 degrees, a field the size of two football fields filled with people...and we're not moving and the band starts playing. I almost wet myself in frustration. Oh wait, I did.

We finally got into the festival to the tune of Funny the Way It Is.

Which was funny...since standing in line was the way it was. Well, it wasn't funny at the time.

Making it even better was this was my girlfriends first Dave show. She's not dancing. Well, she is...but she's waiting for the porta-potty

He even threw in Aligator Pie...and I was really looking forward to hearing that song. Great tune live.

I recorded the concert on my iphone. The "problem" was that I was so close to the stage and speakers that the recording turned out bad. BUT...I was SO CLOSE TO THE STAGE AND SPEAKERS!!!! Did I mention I was about 40 feet from center stage? In case you missed it...I was REALLY close to the stage of a DAVE MATTHEWS BAND CONCERT in BRUSSELS!!!

So, what were you doing on July 2nd?

He ended it with Watchtower...but took the song to a whole nother level by throwing Stairway to Heaven in it. AMAZING!!!

This a youtube clip. I was there. Hey Frank, suck it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bPGVBjhMxhM&feature=related

Next Stop: Brussels

2009-07-16T19:18:00.003+02:00

Aaahhh...Europe. After my parents slept/snored through the night we headed out to Brussels. A beautiful city with not so beautiful areas. Our hostel was pretty nice...not too far from the main tourist area and pretty much inside Little Kabul. Good times all around.

We pretty much kept our "journey" to the Grand Place area. They were setting up outdoor seating for some middle age event. We didn't make it.

We did make a venture to the Royal Palace but for some reason they weren't taking visitors.

Meg eating and/or wearing a famous Belgian Waffle. MMMMM...GOOD!

Euro Tour Part I

2009-07-15T16:54:00.006+02:00

I'm toast. I'm just tired. The trip ended a few days ago but I'm still exhausted.

My parents (my mom and her new husband) landed in Germany on June 30th. The first thing we did with them was take them to Köln to fight off jet lag. This is what we saw.

We didn't do much. Went down to the Kölner Dom and went to a small pub and drank a nasty Kölsch beer. It was a nice sunny day and we had a nice time just hangin out.

This was just a preview of what we were about to see. But hey, stopping by the tallest cathedral in Europe on the first day isn't a bad thing, right?

The next few posts are going to sort of show our trip in somewhat chronological order.

Hope you enjoy.

There are, however, no pictures of anybody chasing bears.

Don't Cry

2009-07-08T00:54:00.002+02:00

Remember when Guns N Roses was good? I do. They had that one song Don't You Cry or Don't Cry or something like that (I'm old enough to remember but old enough to be senile).

Well Michael Jackson is dead. And he's buried (somewhere? maybe?).

I didn't cry. Nor am I going to. This whole thing has been non-stop. And I, for one, am not getting caught up in the media blitz of a dead entertainer. In fact, I'm avoiding all articles about him. Except one.

Yeah, I'm an insensitive jerk (or any other adjective you want to add). I do feel bad for his kids. Honestly. They will never have it easy.

But seriously...we're spending this much media attention on a "good" singer? On a dancer? Ok, a revolutionary dancer. On one of the 80s musical artists who made MTV what it used to be (for those of you 18 and younger, the M in MTV stands for Music...don't tell anyone, but they used to play music on MTV. Sssshhhhh). Entertainer. Pop singer. Dancer. Media Darling.

But still.

Did he save anybody? Did he somehow cure cancer and I missed the memo? Did the Moonwalk bring world peace? Did his transformation from black to white to alien do anything else than make people think/say "Holy *#+%! What happened?"

I'm not going to get into his psychological problems. We all have them...and he had, by all accounts, a crapload of them.

But still.

Problems aside, wasn't this the guy at the middle of not one, but two child molestation law suits? Didn't he screw people over by going into millions of debt to them and not paying them back? And this guy is what the world is crying over?

I know, I know, "Innocent till proven guilty." But c'mon. Champ the Insult Comic Dog may have, and most likely did say it right: "We do not know if he is innocent or guilty. But this one thing we do know. He's guilty!"

It is truly sad when someone's father/son/husband(?)/uncle dies. But I think this article puts a lot of things in perspective.

A LOT of things.

Before I'm lambasted for being an insensitive ____________ (fill in the blank), please read this article.

http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,530361,00.html

Crazy Times

2009-06-27T18:20:00.003+02:00

Wow...what a few weeks.

I am leaving the teaching profession (at least here in Germany) for the time being and heading off into the business world. I won't bore anyone with the details...but I do have to buy a suit. I'm thinking about buying Snoop Dogg's suit in 50 Cent's P.I.M.P. video. That'll impress everybody!

All that to say...I have a new job. I start on August 3rd...

Which also happens to be the date of the U2 concert!!!!!!! Speaking of concerts...

I just got my tix for Dave Matthews Band on July 2nd. After he plays, Placebo is playing, and then Oasis. The next day I'm going to have to drive something like 8 hours. I'm going to be like one of those zombie monsters in I Am Legend.

I spent about 3 hours last night re-booking my flights to Ireland...I'd like to thank the academy, my agent, and my ex-wife for making me pay another $150 to re-arrange my flight so I can accomadate her schedule.

Actually, it works out for me (except for me paying) because I get to spend an extra 5 days with my kids during the summer break!!!!! WWWOOO HHHHOOOO...camping in Holland here we come!!!!

Adil and I spent the night going over packing strategies, possible routes, hemmroidal treatments, and Guinness. All in all, a very productive evening.

I'm hoping to check in with this blog while on the road in the next few weeks and post some pics of our European Vacation..."Look kids, Big Ben!!"

Keen on Keane

2009-06-17T10:29:00.002+02:00

Yet another music related blog post. I apologize. Just kidding. I don't. You'll get over it and we'll all remain friends.

I went to a Keane concert last night in Köln.

It was great. It was in the same venue, E-Werk, where I saw Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds two years ago. What a great venue. A small, ancient warehouse turned into a concert hall. You can only fit about 2000 people in there, so basically everybody has a good view of the stage--except for the short woman standing next to me...

And the lady to my left who was so drunk she passed out. I'm almost positive she couldn't see anything.

I was sort of taken back by the singer at first. In all the photos/videos I had seen, he reminded me of the lead singer in the movie The Committments. Long hair, overweight, ugly...but fantastic pipes. Well, Mr. Leadsinger decided to get a haircut, cut back on donuts and scotch...and he actually looked healthy! I'm not even mad, I'm impressed.

I'm not sure what the band snorted, smoked, popped or drank before the show began...but it was an hour and a half adrenaline rush. Except for some slower songs the entire band gave EVERYTHING they had...EVERY song...it was fantastic.

After the first song, the singer jumped up on a box, spread his arms out and started throwing his guitar pics into the crowd. My girlfriend turned to me and said, "Isn't he supposed to do this after the last song?"

A few songs later, she turned to me and said, "They can't keep this going the whole show, can they?" I was thinking the same exact thing. The singer was completey sweaty after three songs...about an hour in he was sweating through his jacket...by the end, sweat was just flying off his face like he had just gotten out of a pool.

By the way, pools are perfect for holding water.

They gave everything...the piano dude was playing like he would never be allowed to play again...the bassist was in some sort of transmeditational trance and the drummer seemed to be happy just making noise...like a toddler with pots and pans. Pure joy from my point of view.

But the best thing about this band was the connections that were apparent. First of all, it looked like the entire band was truly enjoying themselves. Having a great time playing with and for eachother. Like a team. They were having fun...and as a result, so were we.

And then there's the connection they had with the crowd. It was "only" 2000 strong...but there was the singer acting like it was 2 million...like it was a Shakespearean play for the whole world to see...running from side to side, reaching out to them/us, having us sing the songs.

In fact, they were so happy, after the fourth song they were applauding the crowd. It was genuine.

And that's the great thing about concerts. Through electronic means songs on CDs can always turn out well. But in order to know if a band really has "it," you have to see them live. Not every band can pull it off...Keane can.

And did.

So...if you're keeping track at home (and if you're not, just humor me):

Go get DMB's new studio album.

And if you get the chance...check out Keane in concert this summer.

Drinkin' Whiskey with a King

2009-06-16T17:43:00.001+02:00

As has been determined by past posts...I LOVE music. I absolutely LOVE dissecting music, lyrics, and the backgrounds of the song(s)/band(s)/song writer(s) in question.

I have just fallen in love with a new album. I haven't felt this way since U2's Achtung Baby. And I what I mean by that is only listening to one album over and over and over and over and over and over...you get the picture.

Now, before I pitch this next album...let it be said, it's not because I'm a fan of the band. I'm a HUGE U2 fan but I'm the first person to criticize their cds. So, just because I'm about to praise a cd by a band that I like...it's not just because I like them.

However, this particular band has now officially overtaken U2 as the greatest band in the world. In my humble opinion. And since this is my blog...my opinion is the only one that matters--unless you factor in the Trekkie Geeks who lambasted me on spending too much money on space travel since someday we'll all live with Klingons on planet Mars.

Big Whiskey and the Groo Grux King, by Dave Matthews Band.

OH FREAKIN' MY!!!! WHAT A FANFREAKINTASTIC ALBUM.

Now, it's not perfect...in my opinion...but pretty darn close.

The song Beach Ball. I don't get it. And Little Red Bird. "...guns and gods and little red birds..."
Those two songs just don't do it for me.

Other than that...a ridiculously fantastic cd.

Why? Glad you asked.

Here's why...

A different direction than "typical" DMB album. Sure the acoustic guitar is there, and each band member takes their cracks at solos...in this regard it's still DMB of ol'. BUT...with the addition of the electric guitar...they take it to new heights.

Peaking with a four song Tour de Force set: Squirm, Alligator Pie, Seven, and Time Bomb. Amazing run of songs here...different from each other but all going in the same direction...sort of.

For those of you still craving the love songs that DMB have made famous...You and Me and Baby Blue will keep you happy.

Another reason to love this album is that sometimes the songs don't fit the "6 line verse, 6 line verse, 4 line bridge 5 line chorus and repeat" theme. The songs may or may not rhyme. But whether or not they rhyme, thankfully, they don't always fit a pattern...I LOVE that. That's a huge mistake U2 keeps making...cookie cutter is for crap mu--oops, sorry...pop music.

And this is one of the reasons why it finally pushed them over the Rob Stearns U2 hump. It's art. It's music. It's not a mass produced, formula for success. It is what it is...and therein lies the beauty.

Yet another reason is that this is the first album where I've ever thought "I can NOT wait to hear this song live!" I already saw Spaceman performed for 17 minutes...and Funny The Way It Is. But there are 9 other songs that I simply must hear live.

How many times can you say that about an album?

And the final reason I love this CD is because I'm a Christian.

That sounds weird. But Dave Matthews is such an outspoken, shall we say "critic," of God that this album becomes a revelation of sorts. His personal, internal fight with God is never more open--as in "bare your soul naked" open--than in Lying in the Hands of God and, my favorite, Time Bomb.

I'm not saying his songs are praise and worship songs. In fact, far from it. I’m pretty sure someone who either does not believe in God or doesn’t want to won’t be turning out any praise and worship cds anytime soon. But what his songs do is reveal a man struggling to come to grips with God. And this is where art imitates our lives.

"If Martians fell from the sky, what would that do to God?"…
"Baby when I come home, I want to pick up the pieces”…
"Baby when I come home, I want to believe in Jesus," he sings/screams in Time Bomb.

I've just given you a few reasons why this album totally works...and I haven't mentioned 3 or 4 songs that musically or lyrically speaking stand alone as unbelievable songs. With the exception of one or two songs…a complete album in every respect.

This is definitely a 6 on a scale of 1 to 5.

Wanderlust

2009-06-09T21:40:00.004+02:00

YYYEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What you can't see is me jumping up and down between typing sentences on this blog site.

I just booked some hostel reservations in Brussels, Belgium; Paris, France; and Heidelberg, Germany. The reservations in Bayeux, France are still pending.

I'm taking/making a Euro Tour with my mom and her new husband, Arnie. And my kids. Three generations traveling through Europe...and not a drop of Dunkin' Donuts coffee to keep Arnie awake. He's going to be cranky! This is going to end badly...and, yes, I'm looking forward to it.

We are going to Brussels to, well, um, see Brussels. Well, actually, it just so happens that Dave Matthews Band is playing near by...oh darn, what a stinkin' coincidence! YEAH BABY!!!

Side Note: New DMB album is ridiculously fantastic!

After Brussels we will be doing Normandy, France, then three days in Paris and then off to Heidelberg...the apple of my eye. I LOVE that city.

Then after a couple day trips (including a trip to Amsterdam) I will see my parents off back to Sweet Home, Chicago...if we ever get back from Amsterdam.

There are also no confirmations to the rumors swirlling that Flat Stanley will also be in Amsterdam. Oh, if Flat Stanley truly could talk!!!!

BBBBBUUUUUUTTTTTTT...after they leave I'm heading out to Dublin, Ireland. And in honor of that trip I'm heading to the fridge for a cold Guinness as soon as I post this.

A friend of mine, Adil, and I are going to cycle around Ireland for 7 days at the end of July. Only he doesn't want to book any hotel or hostel rooms in advance.

So...if you're using your brain, unlike Adil, and thinking through this clearly, unlike Adil; we will be traveling through Ireland, accumulating hemmroidal pain with every turn of the bike pedals, having a bike seat lodged--hopefully not literally--into our nether region, and hoping/praying/begging to find lodging when the day is done.

This, too, is going to end badly...and, yes, most definitely, I'm looking forward to it.

Question

2009-05-21T00:04:00.002+02:00

I finally have a functioning radio in my car. Which is not a big deal since I don't use it anyway. The main radio stations in Germany are WCRAP and KSUCK...seriously, it may be a bit ethnocentric, but the music scene in Germany is AWful.

Yet, I digress...

I happened to hear Joan Osborne's song "What if God Was One of Us" today. In this song she poses the question (and I'm paraphrasing here):

If you had one question to ask God, what would it be?

In a previous blog it was determined that I have 7 readers...and with my mom embarassingly stopping by under ANONYMOUS, we'll say there are 8 readers. Really, mom? Anonymous? That hurts. I need a kleenex to dry the tears.

Anyway...to those 8 readers out there...

In all seriousness...what's the one question you'd ask God?

I'm interested in hearing some answers. There's no right or wrong answer here.

I don't even know what I'd ask at this point.

So...what ONE question would YOU ask God?

Farcebook

2009-05-09T09:46:00.002+02:00

It has come to my attention by students, friends, and family that I "have to get on Facebook" and/or other Internet community thingamajiggers. I am being bombarded by you people!

Here is my reply. NO I DON'T.

See? It's true! I don't.

I'll repeat and try to be very clear about this so there is no misunderstanding.

No. I. Don't.

Let's think about this logically for a moment.

a) Has there been legislature past that requires me to join Facebook? No, there hasn't...so, as protected by law, I do not--despite your claims--have to join something like FB. Score: Rob 1, FB Geeks 0.

(Announcer: "Slam Dunk by Stearns...that one was just too easy.")

"You can catch up with all sorts of people!" is an other argument I've heard...and this one makes sense...IF I actually want to catch up with those people. Score: Rob 1, FBG 1...

(Announcer: Good counter from the Dork Camp...we may have a tight one here.")

However...

b) Catching up with people who do not want me to catch up with them is called stalking in some states. Rob 2, FBG 1

c) Being caught up by people who I do not want to be caught up with falls under the stalking category. Rob 3, FBG 1

d) If I'm not in contact with you...there's a reason. I don't want to be contact with you. Don't take it personally. That's life. The flip-side is also true...if you are not going out for your way to contact me I shouldn't be sad. Oh wait, I'm not.

(Announcer: "Wow! What a combination by Stearns. He's left the Dorks staggering.")

Look, just because you don't want to talk to me doesn't make me think you hate me...we just have different circles of friends, interests, families, jobs, etc. Not being in contact with someone, or not being friends with someone isn't a bad thing. I don't know anyone who lives in the town of Eggen, Austria. Does that make me bad? Mean? Evil? No...it just means that I don't know them and striking up some sort of Internet conversation doesn't make too much sense.

And if you don't take time out of your day to contact me--and you have been in the habit of doing this for quite sometime--then I shall assume you do not feel the need/desire to communicate with me. And I'll move on.

Rob 4, FBG 1.

"But you can post your music, pics of kids, blah blah blah."

e) Aaaaahhhhhhh, commercialism and the theory of "keeping up with the Jonses" all found conveniently in one place...my FB page!!! Now everyone can see how great of a person I am and how great my kids are and how cool my house is, blah, blah, blah...

Ugh. No thanks.

Top shelf! Rob 5, FBG 1. (Announcer: "Looks like Stearns is pulling away!")

"It's a cheap way to communicate. And since you live in Germany this is a great way for you to stay in contact and save money."

(Announcer: "The Geeks are back. Great point. Rob 5, Geeks 2!"

f) True...bbbbbuuuuuutttttttt...I already communicate--very cheaply, thank you--with the people I want to communicate with. That group of people probably does not include you. Sorry.

(Announcer: "OH! Right back at ya! Stearns with an immediate counter punch...he's treating the Geek Group like a red-headed step-sister! Rob 6, Dorks 2."

g) If this is a matter of "everybody's doing it!"-type of peer pressure where I'm meant to feel bad for not being a part of the on-line community, then I have a question: Weren't all the cool kids in the Hitler Youth Camps, too? Ouch!

Announcer: "Ok, that was below the belt. Funny. Although, more than slightly inappropriate. No points awarded. But still a good point!)

h) Aren't there better things in life to be doing than downloading, uploading, scanning, cropping, typing, twittering, texting, and facebooking? Yes, I know, a bit weird of an argument coming from a blogger...but...

What about bike rides? BBQing? Taking the kids to the pool? Going for walks? You know...going OUTside, breathing REAL air, getting sunburn (ok, that's not healthy, but you know what I mean).

(Announcer: "Nothing fancy with that one. Just a good solid argument by our boy-wonder. Stearns 7 while our Nerds are stuck at 2.")

i) Here's one!!!!! What about a REAL CONVERSATION with someone. Face to face? At a party or out to eat?

GASP!

(Announcer: "The crowd has been silenced. They've all put their Blackberry's down...you could actually here the ESC key being tipped it's so silent here. They've never thought of this before...actually talking to someone? I think the geek squad has been knocked to the canvas!")

Perhaps I'm old. Perhaps I'm cranky. Or...perhaps I'm content.

So, to my dearly beloved friends, family, and students...I hope you do enjoy your time on facebook, I hope you are able to have all your dreams come true, and that you save the world...

While you are all doing those things, please do me two favors...one, tell everyone I said "hi" (see? I can be cordial), and two, stop asking me to join your fascist organizations! (um, ok, not always)

ps...that includes you, Eric and Jamie...so don't bother inviting me under the umbrella of "commenting" just to tick me off.

Final Tally: Doesn't matter. I'm right. I win.

Oh, hey! Almost forgot. Have a good day!

Yesterday

2009-05-06T19:17:00.002+02:00

Yesterday was the one day of the year that I dread. No, it wasn’t tax day. And it wasn’t hang-out-with-the-ex-wife day…although I’d dread that, too.

Yesterday was my birthday.

To it bluntly: I’m not a fan.

It may have started back in grade school when I looked up May 5th in the World Almanac. A) It’s Mexican Independence Day, Cinco de Mayo, and B) it was the day that a Northern Ireland IRA fighter died due to a hunger strike.

On one hand, there’s going to be a bigger and better party than mine (complete with piñatas)… and on the other hand, a funeral dirge for a terrorist.

Blowing candles out sort of pales in comparison.

It’s just a day I don’t like to “observe.” And I’m not even a Jehovah’s Witness! I genuinely don’t like getting presents. I don’t like being the sole point of the festivities. I hate when people want to make a fuss out of something that has to do with me.

I like hanging out with my family. I like being alone if I can’t hang out with them. And that’s it. I’m boring like that…but it’s what I like…and since it’s my birthday, shouldn’t I be allowed to celebrate the way I want…even if that involves not celebrating?

And when you think about it…celebrating a birthday really should be about the moms. They carried us around for 9+ months and we repaid them by biting their breasts, deriving them of sleep and then spewing every known-to-man bodily fluid all over them...then we became teen-agers and all hell broke lose. And we get presents for this?

Being born is basically an egoistical event. At some point, amniotic fluid no longer becomes the soup d’jour and we crave something more substantial like Portillo’s or Geno’s East Pizza. So, what do we do? We tear the insides out of our mother’s, make them say things only truck drivers are known to say, and give them stretch marks.

One of my teacher colleagues even asked if yesterday was my birthday. Instead of hemming and hawing, I just lied. “No.” I’m nice like that. When my students ask me when my birthday is I tell them February 30th. I wish it was.

I’m just glad we have moved on to May 6th.

Happy (Late) Easter

2009-04-23T00:10:00.002+02:00

I am back. I think. I’m completely mush right now…I spent from Saturday morning till Tuesday late afternoon in Terminal E of Atlanta’s airport—with a 14 hour oasis of escape at a “dive bar" with my cousin and a friend of his, which was fine with me since they had Guinness on tap, Wal-Mart (clean underwear and socks), and my cousin's house. I was like a mini version of Tom Hanks in Terminal. Good times? Not sure. Bad times? Definitely not. Stinky times? Oh, most definitely.

So that explains why my Easter Thoughts are a tad late. (Oh, and the fact that I was just too lazy while on a mini vacation. Sue me.)

I spent Easter in North Carolina at a friend’s. I LOVE Easter. By far my favorite holiday…because the fact of Christ’s resurrection. And YES, I said "fact." For those of you who don’t believe that…that’s cool. Really. Just prove it wrong. Then we can talk.

Now, the thing that caught my attention about Easter this past Easter Holiday was actually from reading the Satanic Bible. I kid not. My friend (a pastor) was reading it for whatever reason and we were looking at how, well, demonic, it was. For lack of a better word.

But its sheer venom directed at God basically speaks for God. My friend pointed this out. Now, he’s sort of a genius when it comes to academic/Biblical things. He’s the kind of guy who can explain quantum physics (in a Biblical sense) but can’t walk across the street. I should start calling him Rain Man. He can master Biblical Hebrew and Greek but can't figure the McDonald's drive-thru out.

Anyway…the Satanic Bible attacks God.

I know. Duh. Right?

BUT…the Satanic Bible NEVER attacks Allah. It NEVER attacks Buddhism. It NEVER attacks Hinduism. Satan NEVER attacks any cults like the Jehovah’s Witnesses. It NEVER attacks new age style movements. Let that sink in for a moment.

It attacks God…and God only.

Satan is not afraid of these other “religions.” In fact, by his own words (of omission) he isn’t even against them.

Why?

Well, perhaps he has had a say in these "religions," Sympathy for the Devil, anyone? But mainly, and WAY more important...there is only one, true, living enemy of Satan.

The living, true Jehovah! The Alpha and Omega. He who was dead and lives for evermore!

Albeit late…Happy and Wonderful and Glorious Easter everyone.

(U)2 Tickets to Paradise

2009-03-28T00:59:00.002+01:00

UNO! DOS!!! TRES!!!!! CATORCE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I got the message on my cell phone today.

"I got two tix!"

And I knew what that meant.

My best friend in Germany got up at midnight to order the tix. And he got them! I'm taking his wife out for a date...well, not in that way, mind you. He's not into U2 as I am. His wife is. He gets to enjoy a quiet evening...we get to go crazy!

We're going to the U2 concert in Germany in August!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, for those of you keeping score at home...that will be two Dave Matthews Band concerts and one U2 show this summer.

I just wet my pants!

Whispers and Moans

2009-03-09T14:57:00.000+01:00

There are times when there are no words we can possibly speak.

Anger. Sadness. Depression. They have all taken over...one at a time...or they're playing tag-team with your soul.

The Bible talks about this. About how the Holy Spirit is there for us, to talk to God for us...even when we can't utter a single word! He sees us, hears us, and then goes to bat for us.

When all we have are inaudible whispers or the moans from a broken heart. And at times, that's all we have. And the Holy Spirit knows this and then interprets everything for us.

And then...when all is said and done...IF we allow...he heals everything for us.

Whispers and Moans

Lying in bed
Sometime before dawn
Sleep has escaped
Yet again

Worries surround me
Swallow me whole
My future dying
Slowly, before my eyes

I can’t even speak
I can’t even eat
I lie in a pool of tears
All I have is whispers and moans

Looking upon me
Somewhere before now
Hope is reborn
Yet again

Your power shrouds me
Making me whole
My now awaking
Boldly, before my eyes

All I could say
And all you heard
Were my whispers and moans

All you saw
And all you cured
Were my whispers and moans

Everything you touched
Everything you healed
Were my whispers and moans

My Refuge

2009-03-04T22:19:00.000+01:00

It just occurred to me that I'm not "following" any blogs. And that makes me look, at best, insecure and, at worst, like a snob. Don't get me wrong...I am an insecure snob...but I am also following some blogs. I'll get to that soon. Maybe.

I don't know what has been going on with me lately when it comes to writing. I can't explain it. I'm writing a lot (which is a good sign for me that my soul isn't dead)...but my writing has been exhausting. I don't know how to describe it. It's not writer's bloc...although it's a struggle. But it's not like nothing is coming out...something is coming out. It's just that when I get done writing--especially a chapter for the new book--my brain feels like mush.

I have mush brain! And I don't even have a TV!!!! How is that possible? Oh yeah, it must be the air coming over the border from Holland.

I wake up thinking about the plot...I go to bed thinking about it. I think about it between my classes, I think about it when driving. I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes.

I haven't just been thinking about the book. I've written a couple things here and there, also. I wrote this last week during our small group meeting. It's in German. I don't always pay attention. And when I get sidetracked, I write...or draw out tattoo ideas. I didn't go tonight...it was in German...and I am already sidetracked by the book...I stayed home to write (and not to draw tattoo ideas). Anyway...this is from last week.

Hope you enjoy.

My Refuge

I'm more than tired
exhausted, fully spent
eyes half closed
soul half dead
heart full of fear

Knowing it's coming
attack in the darkness
blackness rising from shadows
swallowing me like the serpent
knowing it's coming
preventing not an option

I'm more than tired
sleepless, half alive
spirit barely breathing
soul giving up
heart full of fear

But you are my refuge
a Tower of strength
Life overflowing
a Promise of rest

On my own I'd falter
my spirit overcome by guilt
on my own I'd surrender
my soul choked by shadows
on my own I'd die--slowly
my heart drowned by fear

But you're my Father
I have your strength
I am your child
I may rest in your arms

You are my Father
I have your promise
to overflow with life
and death to overcome

Fast Times

2009-03-04T13:33:00.001+01:00

Now is the time for fasting. Even though I'm not Catholic, I decided to celebrate Lent this year. So far, it's been fantastic.

I'm giving up asparagus and mushrooms.

And since I've been doing that for the past 30 years of my life...I'd say I'm pretty good!

Just kidding.

I decided to give up two things that were wasting my time. (I tried giving up a third thing, but it didn't work). I have been really convicted lately that there are so many things in my life that are just simple time wasters. Even before Lent started, I erased all the games on my computer. No more spending hours trying to rack up thousands of imaginary dollars on Solitaire.

I even erased almost all the games on my iPhone. I eventually had to ask myself, what the point was in being able to beat a phone in air hockey with my thumbs. The point is: there is no point.

Then came Lent...and I decided on two things. And they are simple enough. The one was to give up the "Entertainment" sections of news websites. I can read and catch up on World Events, Politics, US News, etc. But there is no reason for me to be reading about Brangelina or Joachim Phoenix or Rhianna or if Katie Holmes weighs 235 or 35 pounds or about what so and so did to whatshis/hername at watchyacallit.

How is my day any better knowing that someone's public relations guru just made an announcement about some "star" I've never met and his/her actions/quotes concerning something/someone?

Honestly, what am I missing? Am I better person for knowing this stuff?

The other thing is that I've given up reading about Sports for lent. There is an exemption, however. I am allowed to watch March Madness...BUT...I'm not allowed to read about anything.
NO ESPN.com. NO cbssportsline.com. No chicagosports.com. Nothing.

I have no idea how the play-off situation in the NBA is shaping up. I have no idea how the NCAA Top 25 looks. I have no idea how baseball spring training is turning out...yes, Joe Crede is no longer with the ChiSox and A-Rod is still a tool...this much I know. I know Tiger Woods started out with his come back...yet, I don't know how it panned out.

Oh yeah...almost forgot...and I don't care!!!

I have had so much more time on my hands...writing and planning trips and just going for walks. I have spent so much more time talking with God...just hanging out and talking to Him. Asking questions, chatting, singing, etc.

Spring weather is finally here...cycling beckons...I'm in the middle of my second book...the characters are calling out to me. There is so MUCH MORE to be doing than wasting my time.

I am really enjoying not knowing what is going on in the lives of people that I have never met. And I'm almost, quite positive they've never heard of me...so it's not like I'm offending anybody.

Oh, I have to go. It's lunch time...mushrooms and asparagus are still not on the menu.

A Fine Line Between...

2009-03-03T18:34:00.000+01:00

I'm a big U2 fan. More like a HHHUUU(222)GGGEEE U2 fan. Ever since The Joshua Tree literally changed my outlook on life (and, no, I'm not kidding)...I have been hooked.

After I listened to The Joshua Tree it became absolutely necessary to delve into their earlier releases. Boy, October, War...oh my! Amazing stuff for such a young band. I read every article possible. The Unforgettable Fire helped me study for my final exams--and the break up of my girl friend. This band and I became one.

(And ever since, I have made it a point of getting their latest CD on it's release date. FYI: I got the last release a day earlier than the public was allowed!!!! How cool am I? Well, that should tell you right there!)

When I was younger I read everything I could about them. I analyzed the backgrounds to the songs.

Why?

Because their songs mattered. Songs about losing friends to heroin overdoses, The Troubles in Northern Ireland, songs against Apartheid, songs echoing out for social justice (New Year's Day) in Poland, songs about political leaders, songs about political dissidents, songs about growing up in the projects of Dublin and Harlem, songs about losing family, songs about loss, songs about greed, songs against war...and songs about God.

Their songs resonated. Honestly. I can't begin to even calculate the number of times I've listened to their CDs...hundreds? no? Thousands? Quite possibly...and that may not even be hyperbole.

Again...their songs mattered. It wasn't Top 40, bubble-gum, pop music, bull crap. It was real. It was intense. Their songs told stories that mattered. Even their love songs were written from married/separated/divorced points of view and not some 18 year-old, hormone infested frenzy of testosterone. Their songs were about living, and dying, and struggling, and, in the end, still living.

Their past two CDs All That You Can't Leave Behind and How to Dismantle and Atomic Bomb were, from their own words, "U2 as U2." Vintage U2? Maybe. Good lyrics, but not great. Good music...but not too much experimentation. The music was probably better than the lyrics, to be honest. But songs that had a meaning or message, nonetheless.

But somewhere along the way U2 forgot about something. About writing songs that mattered.

No Line on the Horizon offers some Brian Eno influenced sounds (note: and I mean a lot of Brian Eno influence...and I have never been a big Brian Eno fan...nothing against his sound...I just don't like it. It reminds me of Ross' "sound" from Friends...and that's not a good thing). The sound is more experimental.

But the words. The punch. The texts that grab you and make you think about changing the world are...well, they're in short supply.

Why?

The word I would use is "contrived." It seems that Bono (and he's been doing this since All That You Can't Leave Behind) is forcing the songs to rhyme. Creating a "great" pop song but forgetting that "it's bubble gum" and leaving out anything meaningful. Forcing a round peg into a square hole.

There are some who would argue that listening to music doesn't always have to be about something meaningful...about changing the world...about making an impact. That maybe so...but then you are left with pop music.

And pop music sucks. End of story. No arguing.

And...this is U2. U2 for crying out loud. Bono meets with the Popes and Presidents! They are trying to free political prisoners, they are trying to end poverty and starvation and AIDS!!!!! This stuff MATTERS, damn it!!!!!!!

I just hope this was "just one of those CDs" and not a sign of what U2 has become. Commercial and contrived.

Now, if you'll excuse me...I'm off to re-listen to No Line. I hope my opinion of this CD changes soon. I really do.

AAAAAHHHHHHH

2009-03-02T23:30:00.000+01:00

Ok, I have been really busy the past few weeks. I'll just give you a run down and get back to y'all in a day or two....maybe.

Planning trip to NC to see friends and see Dave Matthews Band.

JUST found out DMB is going to be in Europe when my folks are here...and you're friggin' crazy if you think I'm NOT taking my kids to that show!!!!!!

I have been writing...A LOT...an insane amount. I'm almost half way through my next book. Chapter 20 of 49. I'm not saying anything more about the book...other than it rocks! After each chapter I'm exhausted. But it's been great. It's been a wonderful challenge and the initial feed back was really encouraging. I'll drop hints along the way.

I'm digesting U2's new album, No Line On The Horizon. For those who don't know me, there is no greater/bigger/bester/cooler/live concerter band than the greatest band in the world...U2! I'll have a CD review soon. Digesting it.

I've been trying to take walks with God...I'll get to this soon, too.

Sleep...I've forgotten what that is.

School...applying to other jobs...may have one lined up.

Might be moving in a month or two.

My daughter just told me she has a crush on one of the boys in the family I live with. They are the same age.

Her crush and my moving might be a coincidence. Then again...might not be.

Ok...I'm taking Vitus (pronounced like fetus) for a walk. We go for long walks at night so I can talk with God...he ruins them by attacking other dogs. More on him and my talks later.

Isolation (Temporary)

2009-02-18T22:45:00.000+01:00

I remember hearing a guy talking about David and his time as a sheppard boy (David's time as a sheppard boy, not the guy...just wanted to clear that up). He mentioned that David probably had the most boring job...EVER...watching a bunch of stupid animals--and, by all accounts, they are stupid--walk around and eat grass.

But he mentioned that David wrote one of the greatest music box sets of all time...he even beat Springsteen to the punch! He wrote most of the Psalms in the Bible. Oh, and by the way, he also killed a bear and a lion. Then he went and killed a giant.

The guy went on to talk about how David probably used his time while being a sheppard. He was probably jamming on his harp rocking some improvisational riffs, ala Phish (ok...I'm seriously speculating on that one!). He was probably doing some push ups and pull-ups on the closest tree around. And he was probably lining up some B.C. style Coke bottles on a fence so he could smash them with sling-flung (slung?) rocks.

In other words, there he was...watching sheep eat grass...but...NOT wasting his time.

Here I sit...at this point in my life. I honestly HATE my job. LOATHE might be a better, more accurate word. I'm seriously considering not just a job change, but a career change. And it all makes me want to puke...well, actually, it makes me want to pout. I'm sitting on my hill, watching sheep...about to completely waste my time...instead of doing something about it.

I don't want to waste my time...no matter how much life sucks right now.

I wrote this poem tonight...in the hopes of becoming more like David and remaining less like me.

Isolation (Temporary)

Sitting on a hill
or dying on this hill?
not sure where my life is
what my future holds
a river near by
flowing
watching clouds float by--
my dreams and hopes as well
slowly I feel the pressure
of a wasted life's unanswered questions

The sun is peaking
lighting up my life
heating up my heart
sitting on this hill
sitting alone on my hill
asking different questions
not sure of the answers
nor where they'll take me
my days half done
questions half answered

Sitting on a hill
or living on my hill?
what the future awaits
as my river runs by
as my clouds and dreams float on
what I do
what I make
of my days on my hill
suddenly reveal the force
of what I'll show the world
of how I'll change my world
once I leave this hill

It's Closing Time

2009-02-04T15:18:00.001+01:00

This is how we teacher's would spend a couple hours after skiing. In our little French Pub. The student's were up in our apartments showering, cleaning up, and preparing dinner. We, on the other hand, were busy planning, discussing, waxing eloquent, solving the world's problems, and ordering one more round.

It was actually a great time. Just sitting around talking and laughing. Talking about the day, making fun of each other, being made fun of, meeting new people, and just relaxing for a couple hours.

Kerstin and Christine. The poor women had to spend a week with 6 men. I think this pic is where they were plotting our "accidental" fall of some steep cliffs. I wouldn't blame them if they tried!

Pravin and Kevin, two of the Dutch teachers, looking exhausted from the days skiing.

This was my last week "employed" by the school...and what a great way to end. The chemistry between the teacher's was fantastic. There wasn't one wuss in the bunch...everybody was fair game for insults...and we all enjoyed it.

So, if Kerstin, Christine, Steff, Ludger, Ron, Kevin, or Pravin ever read this...thanks for a great time. I loved every minute of it (well, except for the day and a half where I was sick in bed...but, other than that...). Thanks!!!

Good Day, Sunshine

2009-02-04T15:08:00.000+01:00

There is absolutely no piture that can capture the pure and complete beauty of the Alps. The sun was coming out, the peaks were golden, and you can see the fog, in patches, still hanging around. This was day one. Unbelievable. Everywhere you turned, it was breathtaking...then the sun comes out and you are in awe.

These are two of my favorites. Although I love my iPhone, the camera isn't strong enough to handle really bright shots. EVERYthing was aglow. These pics don't show that...but I still think they're cool.

You can see the snow being whipped around up on top of the mountain. This was the first day, and we were under the highest avalanche warning possible. That was pretty cool. THEN some professionals were sent up there to use TNT to create some smaller avalanches to prevent a big one. Well, gee, that's comforting.

Well, they were a little too good. On the other side of the mountain the created an avalanche...not a big one...but one big enough to bury themselves in it. BOOM!...DOH!

They got rescued and everything was ok. "How was work today, honey?"

New Year's Day

2009-02-04T14:57:00.000+01:00

All is quiet...on New Year's Day! U2 Rocks. Well this is how the kids celebrated New Year's Eve. At the pool. It was really hard to have to participate. They really twisted my arm!

This was later. In the snow. What? It doesn't snow in S. Florida? Sure it does! At 8:15 PM the snow machines, brilliantly hidden inside the flower pots, turn on so the brain fried freaks of Florida can enjoy a little snow.

Grandpa, Granny Anne, and the kids at the zoo.

Nathan. Sedated. Drugs are great. And Meg at an outdoor mall, just enjoying the warm weather and stuff. Going from minus zero temps to temps in the 80s is NOT easy. It's not recommended for most people. So, if you must, and I mean absolutely must, I am at your service to take your stead. You're welcome.

Sweet Home Chicago Part II (?)

2009-02-04T14:39:00.001+01:00

The greatest building from the greatest city. This may not seem like much...but to those of you who live miles (or in my case 7 time zones) away from home...coming home and seeing something like the Chicago Skyline is theraputic. Unless you are coming from the east...then you get to smell Gary, IN...that is sort of vomit inducing.

I especially like this pic because the triangle building with the small windows is a prison. It houses half of Gary, IN.

For people who might just happen to forget where they are.

Not just the greast pizza joint in Chicago. Geno's East is the greates pizza on the whole planet. There is no discussion. The pizza is ridiculously good...and it comes with a free angioplasty after five purchases. And where else can you legally vandalize a place and nobody cares?

Meg enjoying a Christmas Morning breakfast at Dunkin Donuts. Only in America!

And finally the greatest kids in the world enjoying snow in Chicago. You can tell that they are from out of town...because NObody enjoys snow in Chicago. It's gray, it's nasty, it's cold, it kills traffic, it is absolutely miserable...unless you live somewhere where it doesn't snow. Then, you get to enjoy the five minutes of snow before the plows come out!

Home Sweet Home, Chicago Part I

2009-02-04T14:19:00.000+01:00

I went back home to Chicago for Christmas. Oh yeah, and the small matter of my mom getting married. NO, I do not have any pics of the wedding...I was enjoying it. I mingled. I talked. I tried to convince my son to keep his tux on "for 10 more minutes" about 233 times. I had better things to do than take pics...that's what paid photographers are for. And what the other guests are for!

This was my "going home" hair cut. I actually was on the plane with this thing without a hat on. I'm 37 years old. In a related story...I'm single.

My daughter said, "Dad, I think it's cool that you do things like this." So there!

My mom married a Cubs fan. This pic says it all.

Oh, gee, I'm sorry. Did my finger get in the way of a Cub's jersey. My bad.

Here are some pics of/from the greatest city in the world.

Been a Long Time

2009-02-03T13:53:00.001+01:00

It has definitely been a while. I apologize...sort of. I last posted in December. Then I went to the States with my kids...my mom got married to a complete moron (he's a Cubs fan--and, yet, somehow a great guy), we went to Florida, had a 14 hour return trip (with layover) turned into a 31 hour odyssey, got back to Germany, fell asleep in the teacher's lounge due to jet lag, get back into normal life, got sick, packed my bags, went to the French Alps, came home sick.

Ok, now we're all caught up.

I did find out something cool while in Chicago. A friend of my mom's (who shall remain nameless for inexplicably NOT remembering that I was in town in 1996 and inexplicably NOT telling her brother that I was in town in 1996...no, I'm not bitter...excuse me while I down a shot of toilet cleaner) actually told me she reads my blog.

So, if you're counting at home...that makes 4 readers for me!!!! Celebrate good times...come on!

I'm going to be posting some pics from Chicago, Florida and the Alps soon. I just need to find my USB cable. Acutally, I know where it is...it's at Ilona's house (If Eric or Jamie make a comment I will hunt you both down and drown you in a vat of rabbit pellets!). Once I get it I'll post some pics.

By the way, for explanation's sake...the Alps trip includes the following...5 days of skiing (except for the day and a half where I was sick), complete equipment rental, BEAUTIFUL views of all the best of what winter has to offer (the mountains looked good, too), amazing pictures, two 16 hour bus trips (neccessary evil), 3 meals per day, quaint French pub, French wine...oooohhhh, did I happen to mention it was ALL EXPENSES PAID!?!?!?!

In my next life, remind me to come back as a snowboarder. Everything about them says "cool." Except for their girlfriends...which say "hot."

Ok, I'm going to go know and do a couple of sick people things...like further deepen my ever increasingly closer relationship with the toilet...enjoy your day.

Good Times, Bad Times

2008-12-05T23:46:00.001+01:00

Aaahhhh...the soothing words of Led Zeppelin.

Well, tonight epitomized those words. PoeSi performed tonight...and I was really hoping to post some music from our performance. We only had a three-song-set but were going to play two new ones, at least.

Here's how the night started.

5:30 Rita calls me with a shaky voice. "I'm at my wits ends! I can't play Selah (one of our new songs--it's actually called Selah (A Christmas Song)). So and So is here and says that the song is too monotone, too slow, and isn't in Flaminco style."

"WHAT?!?! Ok, don't worry about it...just play what you feel comfortable playing and we'll go from there."

Now...two things to remember here. ONE, the song is supposed to be a slow, thoughtful, monotone, if you will, song. It's about the birth of Jesus and meditating on what that means for us. SECOND, this woman had met Rita twice before and figures she can just spew out her venom. Yes, I'm a bit pissed.

And another thing...Flaminco style??? WHAT?!?! It's a freakin' Christmas concert!!!!

BUT...to be fair...the woman's mom died last week, so she's not exactly in a good mood.

Now, back to tonight...

It was three acts and a guy doing cabaret. Now, he's pretty good. Funny, pushes the envelope, cracks jokes at the heart of the matter. Sarcastic. Me likey. He was making fun of how all the grandmothers here in Germany wear the same stuff at Christmas time. It's true. It's like at age 65 all women in Germany have to wear a Grandma Uniform. It's amazing.

Well, this woman and her partner stand up in the middle of the cabaret act and tell the guy that he's tasteless and they've never seen anything so classless as this. They get up and get their coats to leave.

Of course, the guy is also Rita's second guitar player! FANtastic...the band has been together for about one hour and they are about to break up.

We completely skipped the drunken binges, the free-basing and the rehab...I feel robbed!!!!!!

So, we convince him to stay and play the set...and his girl-friend (can I call a 65 year old woman a "girl-friend?") went and sat in the car.

Rita still played/sang fantastically and we had a good ending to a bizarre night.

But we never did play the Christmas Song that this woman was so adament against...and then decided to leave anyway. Thanks for ruining our night!

OH...and nobody recorded the concert so I can't put anything on the site. I suck. Sorry. I will try and get something sometime somehow.

I am leaving you with some "candid" pics of our photo shooting session.

No, seriously, you're kidding, right?

2008-11-30T20:49:00.000+01:00

Ever have one of those moments where you see or read or hear something and you are not sure how to react?

You can laugh...because there is some definite humor there.

You can say (or, in my case, SCREAM)..."I TOLD YOU, SO!!!"

You can shake your head...because, well, just because.

You can wonder...because maybe--just maybe--there is some truth to it.

You can ponder...because all your suspicions have been confirmed.

I had to pay my ex-wife's lawyer the other day. It wasn't much. But still. The idea of paying him, of all people, makes eating vomit sound like a pleasant idea...and it doesn't even have to by my vomit.

I went to the bank to do one of those account-to-account money transfers.

The first three numbers of his account...

666.

Let that sink in.

I TOLD YOU, SO!!!!!!!

The Hills Are Alive...

2008-11-26T19:31:00.000+01:00

...with the sound of music!!!

Today was a very musical day for me.

I began writing my next book the other day, so I had The Cure playing today. That's always depress--, er, fun!

Then I got the chance to listen to Guns N Roses' new CD, Chinese Democracy.

They should have just named it Shark Sandwhich so we could give it a proper, two-word review. "They can't print that, can they?" (If you are confused, go rent Spinal Tap).

I have renamed GNR's latest: I Want My Money Back or Suckese Suckocracy. My goodness, how the mighty have fallen.

But to top my day off I got to listen to two of my poems as they have been put to music. Rita, the second half of PoeSi, has the melody down for A Christmas Song--Selah (to be seen soon on Consumed Ministries blogsite). It's very Christmasy and we're looking forward to playing it at a concert next Friday. I'm going to download some pics and hopefully video or song or something once the show is over.

She also played a completed version of A Hole in the Heavens. It rocks! She rocks! We sat in her kitchen while she played and I had goosebumps. It was great!

Ok...off to pour acid in my ears to get GNR out of them.

Inside of Me

2008-11-20T23:19:00.000+01:00

This is probably one of my favorite poems that I have ever written. It was stuck inside of my head for a couple of weeks before I wrote it.

I wrote it this past summer in Holland. I was sleeping with my kids inside of our tent while camping. The kids were busy snoring and I couldn't sleep. I turned on an electric lantern that we had borrowed and started writing. Once it was out of me I fell write to sleep (hahaha, I'm punny!--wow, that was lame!)

I gave it to my friend Rita and she immediately came up with three different ways to play this song. When she plays it, she takes me/the poem to a different plane. It's intoxicating.

It's a pretty simple poem, really. It's about victory in this life. About having God inside of me. It's about hope. It's about now. It's about the future. It's about...it's about...I'll just let the poem speak for itself.

I don't know why I waited so long to post it. But here it is. I hope you like it as much as I do.

Inside of Me

I’m a simpleton
So small
In so many ways
I’m the last person you’d think
Could ever be a king

When I rise from life’s ashes
And I rise above the flames
And I fly to heights so high
It’s ‘cause I’m flying in your name

I’m flying high
‘cause you’re inside of me
Inside of me
Inside of me

There’s so much more to me
Than whatever
Catches your eye
I’m not just a child
But a child of a king

When I rise above this world
And when I fly beyond my pain
And I’m flying through the clouds
It’s ‘cause I’m flying in your name

I’m flying high
‘cause you’re inside of me
Inside of me
Inside of me

Clearing the Way

2008-11-19T20:36:00.000+01:00

I'm on the verge of something. It could either be incredibly fantastic, or, as British sports commentators like to say, it could "go horribly wrong!"

I have done a couple of studies through Isaiah. Of course, by looking at the way my life has been going the last five years, you'll realize that I haven't learned anything.

One of the stylistic devices that Isaiah used to describe God's blessings on Israel was to explain how the "roads" into and out of Israel or Jerusalem would be "straightened" or "smoothed." In other words, God would make the paths of his followers "straight." If not always smooth, at least the path would be straight and the people following him would be able to see straight ahead.

I'm at that point (again) in my life.

In the past two weeks there have been two "categories" that have been "holding me back." Or...keeping me in a "wandering in the desert" sort of funk. One of the categories, that shall remain nameless due to some legal advice, was my own doing. Or, rather, my own downfall. I was the idiot who was leaving the path. I was the idiot who kept putting giant roadblocks in my own way. I was the idiot who...well, I'm an idiot. I think I've covered this before.

The other area was/is somewhat out of my control...but this area kept piling up and piling up. It got to the point where I literally--and I don't recommend this--just looked up to God and said, outloud: "God! What the hell!?!?"

That's it, Rob. Swear at God. Good one! Like I said, I'm an idiot.

There were a couple days of not eating, praying, thinking, drinking tea, not eating, trying to figure a way out of my plight, praying, mulling over, praying, and not eating.

I wasn't fasting. That would have been the smart thing to do. I was just too depressed to eat. I knew it was bad when one of my friends at school asked/said: "Are you ok? You look like #&*%!" In the words of Billy Joel, "Honesty...it's hardly ever heard!" With friends like her...

Anyway. In a matter of 24 hours almost everything disappeared. Almost.

Roadblock two...the category that I didn't have much control over, all of a sudden became smaller and "doable." (Yes, Mike, doable is a word--or, at least, accepted.) And the fantastic thing is that I was asking God to sort of diminish the boulders in front of me, make them somewhat smaller; instead, he took two boulders and completely smashed them into rubble. The best part? They were the two biggest boulders of this category. Now, I have smaller rocks in front of me. But I can see over them!! And, even though it's going to require some heavy lifting...I can move them out of the way.

Then came category one...where I have complete control over. In a matter of about 12 hours God took the liberty to remove two obstacles for me. You see, I think God finally figured out I'm an idiot and decided to take matters into my own hands before I completely hung myself.

I swear God thinks I'm a toddler sometimes. Constantly having to take matches out of my hands. Removing the sharp knives from my reach. Making sure loaded guns aren't in the house. Keeping poisonous chemicals out of my reach. Actually, my actions have warranted such a point of view from him...and his decisive actions. I'm an idiot. Have I mentioned this before?

So, here I am...the path in front of me is being straightened out. This is an amazing turn around for me in a matter of a day. There is no way this happens if I continued to do things "my way." Sorry, Sinatra.

Now, if I can just keep from getting in my own way and keep things from "going horribly wrong!" And if that happens, I'll have no one to blame but me...and I'm sure God will give me some sort of time out.

A Hole In the Heavens

2008-11-15T15:51:00.000+01:00

I was driving home the other night when I saw the coolest full moon. The kind you might see in a Halloween picture or a scary movie. But it was a bit different. To the West, the sun was setting, so there were pastels aplenty and the West was eerily lit.

The moon, was stil rising out of the east, and looked like it was popping up in front of some clouds (which is impossible because it's so much higher than the clouds), and being covered by others. The light was playing an incredible trick on all of us.

It was beautiful.

My mind started to wander into the Psalms and into the way the Nation of Israel was taken care of by God. At night, as they were wandering through the desert, God would guide Israel by a fire in the sky. By day, via a cloud. And I was thinking about how the Psalmist sings that nature speaks of God and his glory.

And I was thinking about how we love to see the sun, how we love to see the sun come out from the clouds, to see it set with all it's colorful beauty...how we long for new or full or long days. How we love the full moon, how it lights up a snowy field, how you can almost drive down old country roads at night with the lights off because sometimes the moon is so bright you can still see everything...or how we can watch it set while the sun is still rising on cold wintery mornings. We love watching the stars, and watching for falling stars, and bright or flickering stars always grab our attention.

And I got to thinking about the sun, the moon, and the stars (especially the star that was over Bethlehem) as if they were calling out to us...calling out to us to come to God...calling out to us as to say "God is ALIVE!!! He is HERE!! In the Heavens!! Just look! Just keep looking!!"

So, I wrote this poem.

A Hole in the Heavens

When the skies are gray
Overcast and stormy
Horizontal rain blinding
I just need a glimpse
Just for a second or two
It’s all I ask
A hole in the heavens
To see the sun again
To see your light

When the nights are dark
Pitch black and deep
Eastern winds chilling
I just need a view
Just for a moment or two
It’s all I need
A hole in the heavens
To see the moon again
To see your light

You promised to guide me
The sun light to lead
You promised me shelter
The moon glows as I sleep
You promised you’d be here
The stars dance your love
Your promises never ending
As I peer through the holes
As I peer through the holes
As I peer through the holes
The holes in the heavens

When the world is so black
Depressing and hopeless
My heart misleading
I just need a sign
Just for a moment or two
It’s more than I need
A hole in the heavens
To see Bethlehem’s star
To see your light

The Cure?

2008-11-12T22:08:00.001+01:00

I recently found a journal that I had lost. Inside it were, of course, some poems. I think I need counseling. I'm turning into Robert Smith during the writing/recording of the Disintigration album. Seriously, I need help.

It's been, like I've shared, a couple of rough, self-inflicted type of rough, weeks for me. Yesterday, I woke up to a violent thunderstorm--wind bending trees over, leaves flying every where, the rain coming down horizontally--and yet, when I woke up, there I was singing a "praise/worship" song that we sang in church on Sunday.

Now, I'm not a big praise/worship song person. It's just not my style. BUT...there are some that I like. This one happened to be an "ear-worm" for me. That's what the Germans call a song that you can't get out of your head...ein ohrworm...an ear-worm. And these are the people who invented the Mercedes Benz. Go figure.

Thunderstorm outside...praise inside. Symbolic? Maybe.

Tonight we had our small group meeting and we sang a song with the following line (translated from German):

just as I am, I come to you, just speak one word, and I'll be free.

I had a vision of someone who has run from God (read: me) and doesn't feel God's presence--but it's not because God has left, it's because he (read: me) has simply turned his back. He can't see God anymore because God is no longer in his line of vision...although, God remained.

So, I wrote this:

You Never Left

I'm closer to you than I can imagine
You're right behind me like you said
Your arms are spread out to catch me
if I fall, when I fall
But you never left

I'm deeper in your presence than I dreamed
Your sanctuary openned to lost souls as I
Your voice echoes as it calls out to me
if I leave, when I leave
But you never left

I'm nearer your touch than I have thought
You're by my side just like I rememer
Your hand on my head to gently guide me
if I wander, when I wander
But you never left

I'm in your spirit more than I recognize
You're indwelling me as you promised
Your eyes stay fixated on me
if I turn away, when I turn away
But you never left

Congregation of the Dead

2008-11-10T23:15:00.000+01:00

I'm not going to go into too many details about how (fill in negative adjective here--I would do it myself, but my mom will get mad at me) the last two weeks have been for me. Of course, there is no one else to blame but me.

Alas.

I was trying my best to avoid being in Church this week due to...well, just due to the self-induced "manure" in my life. But, I had to be in Church since I'm a Sunday School teacher. The irony of all ironies at this point.

I was looking up a verse for my kids when God decided to use that exact moment to give me a stomach punch. I came across Proverbs 21:16. The man that wandereth out of the way of understanding shall remain in the congregation of the dead. Yep, that about sums it up.

I ended up writing a poem, about this...at times, the only release that I have.

Tonight I was listening to some old U2...so, here you go...a U2, Stearns combo. This just about covers it.

My father is a rich man,
He wears a rich man's cloak
Gave me the keys to his kingdom coming
gave me a cup of gold
he said, "I have many mansions
and there are many rooms to see."
but I left by the back door
and I threw away the key
and I threw away the key
yeah, I threw away the key
yeah, I threw away the key

--For the First Time, U2

I went drifting
through the capitals of tin
where men can't walk or freely talk
and sons turn their fathers in
I stopped outside a church house
where the citizens like to sit
they say they want the kingdom
but they don't want God in it

The Wanderer, U2 feat. Johnny Cash

I awake
--slowly, painfully
the stench of death surrounds me
I am breathing
yet my soul is dying
--slowly, painfully
I've been here before
but when?
or have I never left?

I left, long ago
and quite shortly
I left this path
I left your life
--quickly, nervously
Now I am lost
a fog in my eyes
an emptiness in my heart
now I run to nowhere
--quickly, tearfully

I sit alone
my jaw locked shut
--tightly, rigidly
my voice cannot be heard
I have drowned her
in a sea of regret
any songs I could sing
have vanished
--suddenly, slowly

I long to return
--ashamedly, humbly
I long to run again
to dream is to breath
yet I am alone
in a sea of familiar faces
I am in the congrateion of the dead
I am the congregations of the dead
--sorrowfully, repeatedly

Confused

2008-11-05T18:08:00.000+01:00

I've been listening to The Cure for the past couple days. Before I go and light myself on fire I figured I should get one more post in.

Have you ever tried to talk yourself into being something? Or, being someone? Try to take on some sort of role that you think is right for your life...but you can't be sure?

And all the while you are trying to become this thing or take on this role you're drawn to being the total opposite of what it is? In other words, you are drawn to being totally opposite of what you want to be or become?

And yet, you can't fight it because it's not necessarily a bad thing. But you carry the fight on, nonetheless? So you torture yourself on the inside for months on end? But you're not sure if you should be torturing yourself...or if the torturing part is part of the metamorphisis that needs to be there?

And talking about it doesn't seem to make sense?

And the words aren't exactly there to be able to formulate for anyone even if talking made sense?

Where are the matches?

Full of Crap

2008-11-02T23:26:00.000+01:00

A friend of mine was telling me what a friend of her's told her.

He's a poet.

I'd like to be a poet someday...I think.

He said, "If you're constipated, you take a suppository. If you don't know what to say, you write poetry."

Words to write, er, live by.

62 Glimpses Into Me

2008-10-17T00:20:00.000+02:00

I decided to finally start organizing my...nnnooo, not my life. I'm not organizing that! That would make too much sense and would make things easier for me.

I started to organize my poems. I'd like to put a book out someday (soon!) of my poems...even if half of them are complete crap. It would still be a cool project to do, and I think worthwhile. Even if I never sell a lot of copies, just having a couple bound "memoirs" of my poems for my kids and grandkids would be cool.

So, today, I started sifting through the different computer files that I have saved. I went through my old posts on this blog looking for poems I never saved on my computer. I even went to (SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!!!) Consumed Ministries blogsite and looked for poems that I had written.

A little cutting and pasting and, "POOF!", I had a bunch of poems neatly organized into little computer folders...I feel so good about myself. But then came the next step. I started sorting through all the poems that I recently found which were hand written.

Some I wrote in church, some I wrote on vacation, some I wrote when not exactly sober, some I wrote in America, some I wrote in Ireland, a couple I wrote on airplanes, some I wrote about people that will never be named (sort of like Carly Simon's Your So Vain), some I wrote on lined paper, some I wrote in a small notebook, some I wrote on envelopes...but all are written with the worst hand writing known to mankind.

I had to sift through them and find out which ones I had saved onto the computer and which ones were never saved. I came up with 129 poems which I had saved on the computer...and as far as I know, there are no "double entries." Double entrés would be nice, but not double entries.

After I was able to sort out all the poems, I counted the ones that I had never saved onto disc, or published in any way, shape, or form.

Sixty-two.

62.

Sixty two poems that were hidden...lost...or, waiting?

And the thing is there are at least three or four that I recently wrote that I can't find. I hate when I do that!

It was weird to find these poems. It was weirder to re-read them. It was like peering into my past almost as a Peeping Tom. I was taken back to places I had forgotten, or wanted to forget. I was taken back to deep, dark, depression. I was taken back to shame. I was taken back to joy. I was taken back to wonder. I was taken back to times of endings and times of beginnings. But mostly, I was taken back to a time and place that shaped me like no other time has ever done.

For better or for worse.

Honestly, most of them are dark. Depressing. Dreary. But they are mine. Dare I say, they are me?

62 poems.

62 secrets.

62 glimpes into me.

Eternal Poverty

2008-10-15T17:20:00.000+02:00

After school I got to talking with a couple teachers. One of them has another year to go in his student teaching (yes, I said another year--student teaching is a two year process in Germany). One of the teachers has been teaching for some 20 years or so and she told the student teacher, "Tenure is your ticket to eternal poverty."

I thought, "HEY! That fits perfect with tomorrow's blog theme!"

And then it hit me.

Smack.Ouch.

The day before, on Monday, I stopped under a bridge that's on the way to a friend's house and to the town where I play basketball. Under this particular bridge lives a homeless man. I've been meaning to stop and talk to him ever since another friend of mine, a reporter, interviewed him about four months ago.

I'm not sure what he did to deserve this...did he beat her? abuse her? cheat on her? substance abuse? Did she just meet someone else? was she just a wench? was she bored? was she Moroccan and wanted to go home?

I don't know. I just know that he lost EVERYthing.

So, after a few years of working and basically giving his paycheck to her he just said, "Screw it. I'm not working for your lifestyle anymore." He stopped working.

He just upped and quit.

He stopped working and started collecting unemployment...just so he wouldn't have to pay alimony. But that only lasted a couple years...

Because he owed so much alimony, the state siezed his unemployment money. He doesn't even get that! It goes to his ex-wife.

He even told me he won the lottery...guessed all 13 numbers correctly...but can't collect because it will just go to her, anyway.

Now he lives under a bridge. His hands are calloused and dirty. His fingernails are filthy, long, and cracked. His hair is nappy. His teeth are in serious need of a dentist. And he's apparently involved in the occult--the whole time we were talking he rolling teeth and bones in his hands like they were dice.

He lost all his material possessions--through his wife and through his decission to just give up.

He lost his family.

He lost his job and future.

And worst of all--besides possibly having lost his soul--is that he's lost the will to do anything with his life.

And that is a much better definition for eternal poverty than having a job that gives you 12 weeks of paid vacation a year!

http://blogactionday.org/js/6fa535dd3a1cdfa50635328f8c89b7e00da08a25

Daddy's Little Girl

2008-10-10T12:22:00.000+02:00

"Dad."

"Hmm."

"My boobs are getting bigger!"

Loss of oxygen. Rolling of eyes to back of head. Heart failure. THUD.

These are the moments/conversations that no one really tells (read: WARNS) you about when you have children.

Besides the forementioned discussion and the obvious physical differences between a father and a daughter, I am still surprised to see just how much my little girl is like me. I mean, as in a mini-me version. She's always looked like me (poor kid) but she acts like me, she does things like me, she behaves like me, like I said: she acts like me--Heaven help us all.

The other night we had a "pre-teens" movie/pizza night at our church. Meaghan was playing with the other kids like any normal kid...then she sort of disappeared. She found a quiet corner and was writing in her diary. I said something like, "Meg, c'mon. The other kids are playing, why don't you go play with them."

Then it occurred to me. She was just like me. I love taking a break from social situations. So does she. I love people watching. So does she. I love finding a place to just sit and relax and observe. So does she. I love to write...any time, any place. So, she does.

Then the next day I found my daughter sitting in the window sill. She had brought in a pillow and a thin mattress (for lack of better word) and was staring out the window and writing. I have no idea how many hours I have spent in my life time just staring out of windows. Looking at birds fly, looking at clouds, watching people, watching traffic, dreaming, thinking, praying, planning.

My daughter is so much like me that it's scary, sometimes.

I'm just not looking forward to the day when my boobs get bigger.

Change is Good

2008-10-08T17:39:00.001+02:00

Cool. I just changed my blog up. Both of my readers will have noticed right away.

I recently moved. This has been fun, liberating, and somewhat sad all at the same time. I love where I live now. Great family. Cool location. Closer to work. Closer to the Irish Pub. But going shopping sort of took me for a loop...new faces, new stores, new shoppers, new clerks. I lived in a small town...and being the only American there, and one of the few basketball players it wasn't hard to meet someone that you knew from games, or coaching their kids, or just seeing at parties. But now...I'm in a whole new environment. As much as I like the change, I never though shopping for flour would be so lonely.

I am hoping to be on the verge of a new job. I'll keep you posted.

Two weeks agofound some new shoes (literally found them!!! didn't have to pay!!!).

And I got some really cool glasses. There have been two reactions to my glasses. Either people just laugh. Honestly, they just look at me and laugh out loud. Rude! In fact, my mom said, "Take those off, you look like a dork." We'll see if she gets a Christmas present! Ruthless wench!

OR they say something about me looking like a professor. With all the "new" things going on in my life I thought I would just change up the blog site a bit.

One of my friends. I have three. One of them told me I should start adding pictures. I am going to start doing that. My kids. My glasses. People in general. My new girl friend. Oh, wait, I don't have one. Nevermind.

I might even try to add some video footage of PoeSi.

Ok...I need to get going. Enjoy the new look.

Fear of an Untended Grave

2008-10-05T20:31:00.000+02:00

I recently had a conversation with a woman who had a conversation with another woman. A friend of a friend of a friend sort of thing.

The "other" woman was lamenting the fact that she never had any children. She never wanted to have children...and now that she is growing old and the "fact" of death is slowly approaching she is saddened by the prospect that her grave will never be visited, never be tended to. There will never be any of her children to bring flowers to her grave.

The idea of an unattended grave doesn't depress me so much. I want to be creamated anyway, and the joy of knowing I'll be reunited with my children in God's presence someday completely outweigh a lonely grave site. What does sadden me is not having a spouse to grow old with.

In my situation...in my life...for me...and definitely for her...I think it's best not to be with anybody. I'm not playing the "poor me" pity card. Being alone was not my decision...but it has become my life...and has, for better or for worse, become my decision.

I'll take the consequences that come with such a decision. However depressing they may be.

It's a cold, rainy day here. It's been raining since yesterday evening and there has been no sign of the sun. Even as the leaves turn beautiful hues of golds, reds and oranges, they are still dying. Every day the trees are a bit more bare, the rain is a bit colder, the days shorter...signs of summer's death are everywhere.

It was the perfect day to write such a poem.

Fear of an Untended Grave (or Loneliness Creeping)

The rain is cold
As it pelts my face
It stings
As it slowly chills

The wind, it howls
As it blows past me
It chills the rain
As it chills my soul

I walk through the graveyard
Bare trees
Grey stones
Dead leaves beneath my feet
The leaves are dead
But they are not alone
Joined forever
The dead

The tears they fall
As I think of the future
They’re bitter
As I taste the salt

The future beckons
As I grow old
My death bed sneers
As she patiently awaits

I walk through the graveyard
Decaying stones
Rotted flowers
Nobody is here to tend to the graves
The flowers are dead
But they are not alone
Soon to be joined
All who die

The fears they surround
As they dance in my mind
Cold, wet rain
As it chills me further

The graves lie unattended
As the dates disappear
The names are simply forgotten
As they slip into the past

I walk through the graveyard
Wasted breaths
Wasted lives
Dead dreams lie under the ground
The dreams are dead
But they are not alone
Joined forever
The passed

The wind is now calm
As it lightly passes by
The rain still cold
As it soaks my skin

The heart is now heavy
As it no longer skips
The heart is yet heavier
As it accepts its fate

I walk through the graveyard
Nameless stones
Untended graves
Nobody is here to bring them life
The lives are dead
But they are not alone
Soon to be joined
The living, the dead

Will the rain be cold
As it stings
Will the wind howl
As it blows

Will there be tears
As the memories dance
Will there be anyone here
As my children live

I will lie in this graveyard
Dead marriage
Buried alone
Will anyone tend to my grave?
I’m alone
I’ll take that to the grave
Joined forever
Lonely and dead

Magic Beans

2008-10-04T13:25:00.000+02:00

I recently met someone who was/is into the esoteric movement. If I mispelled esoteric I don't care.

I found a recent conversation frightening, enlightening (not in a good way), dumbfounding (in a comical way, yet, still not in a good way), sad, and depressing.

It seems that there are a growing number of "Christians" who are following this path. When I say "Christians" I mean people who grew up in the church, people who actually claim to have Jesus in their lives. If you want to follow the esoteric way of life, that's one thing...but don't drag Jesus into it. His teaching is COMPLETELY AGAINST such a "religion."

It's like me, being an Alabama fan, wearing an Auburn T-shirt. Or like my friend, Jamie...he's a HUGE University of Michigan fan. I could never imagine him cheeering for Ohio State. It's oil and water...doesn't work. You can't say, "I'm following Jesus" and then start tryng to feel the energy from rocks (comical, sad, and dumbfounding), reading tarrot cards (frightening), or talking to angels (all the above).

Trying to read tarrot cards...which, by the way, is completely UN-Biblical, reaching out to angels, looking to the stars to read our fortune...they are all, well, um NOT the teachings of Christ.

Any way, I wrote this poem after a recent conversation with an esoteric follower. I am still trying to come to grips with how someone can follow so many different "paths" that "lead" to Christ, and yet Christ is completely against these "paths."

I wrote this as sort of a sing-songy poem. Then it occured to me by the end of writing this, that there is a much stronger force/person behind this movement.

Magic Beans

I’ve got magic beans to sell you
They’ll cure all your woes
You can plant them in your garden
You’ll never see them grow

I’ve got shiny rocks to give you
Reds, greens, blues; any color you’d like
Can you really be that stupid
To think dead rocks give you life?

I’ve been talking with the spirits
I think you call them friends
Disguising themselves behind their light
Please just call them legion

I’ve got cosmic cards to read to you
No kings or queens or one eyed jacks
I can see your future in the stars
Although it’s a load of crap

I’ve got magic beans to sell you
They don’t do anything at all
But that’s my job—to sell my wares
I’m the Devil, behind it all

Rain on Me

2008-10-03T12:03:00.000+02:00

Well, my laptop is finally fixed, I'm settled in the new apartment and I've been writing a lot lately. We just had a meeting this week about getting our PoeSi (the poems/songs) stuff on to a CD and I'm supposed to be meeting with a friend this weekend about getting Rise Up on to CD...but in German.

Speaking of Rise Up...it would make a GREAT Christmas present (hint, hint, hint!).

Ok...just the other day I came across a bunch of my poems. Just sitting in a box. It was amazing...like peering into my past. Some of the poems I can clearly remember writing. Some of them I can't (like the one I wrote after one too many Guinness').

This is one that I wrote somewhat recently. I'm not sure why I was in Hosea. I'm not sure where I was (church? at home?). I'm not sure exactly when...but it was somewhat recently...I'm losing my memory!

It's rather simple, really. And rather autobiographical. It's about someone trying to get on in life on their own terms, doing things their own ways and ignoring God. Then realizing it's not working.

It's not just about realizing that God is/should be in control. It's about realizing it and then saying "Ok, God...let's start over. Wash me clean. Wash me new. If I'm going to feel you God, then I want to feel you...your power, your warmth, your love, your strentgh, your forgiveness. EVERYTHING!"

Rain on Me
From Hosea 6:3

I forge my own ways
My paths mapped out
Winding into tomorrow
Passing further from today
Darkness and fear surround
Confusion and tears await

But this I know
And can’t forget
No matter how hard I try
Your paths stretch fore
Lead to holy mountains
In the early light of the morn

Thunder echoes o’er me
I can’t go on
Prevented by stormy skies
Sliding further from tomorrow
Hope and joy escape
Despair and woe replace

To the heavens I look
And this I see
Morn’s sun does shine
While I’m awash with rain
You come as the rain
Sweet, pure, holy rain