Breathe It In

Every so often a feeling comes along that I can't explain, I simply embrace it. To think it through is to ruin it, it just is. Thoughts flow and words seem unnecessary and for a few moments, I truly feel what it means to love.

It seems so simple, yet so many of us over think it. If only we could let go of all that restricts and just breathe.

Understanding, I don't know, as a whole it's a mystery and quite frankly, it can stay that way. I find that more appealing so I think I'm finally starting to get it. And every day I'm learning that clarity is with me, so I know at the very least, I'm headed in the right direction.

I truly love someone and it grips with an awareness that is pure and without question. So much so that I can't believe it was ever clouded by petty differences. I'm thankful that gave way to the innocence of attraction and a wealth of clarity that begs release.

I have looked at love through many eyes yet never my own, for I wasn't ready. But for some reason I now have been chosen and I simply say OK, no questions, no explanations necessary, I will just love.

Scratched, "The Surface"

I've noticed recently, especially in pictures, that when I smile I have crow's feet. I won't lie, I am not happy about this. Funny thing is, I didn't think I cared about getting older because I feel so young. It's just that, with the onset of the Devil's tracks, I fear an old family nemesis is stirring. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I fear for all of mankind the day I realize I'm not twenty one anymore.

Hi, my name is Gary and I'm a recovering insecurity laden Vanityaholic. I will continue to act as though I don't care about such petty things, and yes, I just might be lying.

Here is a news flash for you; like most who aspire to be recognized, entertain, or simply be different, I really do care what you think. Sometimes I'll even go so far as to deceive you; this in the hopes that my appearance will be everything that I think you would want it to be.

Does this mean I'll be sporting Jonas Brothers tight jeans or a Sean John skull cap anytime soon, no, I mean I have risen from the depths a little. Nevertheless, my attention can be diverted and I still cross over to the dark side from time to time. You see, deep down I'll always be the same guy who spends thirty minutes putting together a look for the party and then thirty more second guessing the finished product.

I have to tell you though, there has been a disturbance in the force lately and the clothing seems to have taken a back seat to the impostor within. Let me put it to you in a different way. I'm starting to think that the vanity, the very poison that I continue to try to hold in check, wants to attack at me from a different angle and that it might be time to unveil an upgraded defense strategy.

It used to be simple really, the occasional hair out of place or the jeans that didn't gather just right. Now it's blemishes, brown spots, bumps, boils, bruises, red spots, pores, black heads, hair loss, dryness, dangling triceps, rogue love handles and now crows feet?!?! What's a guy to do?.......

I would love to think that I'm confident enough to not be so shallow but I can't help but think of those ,better than me, that have fallen victim to the evil of which I speak. I fear my time may be at hand.

I fear this because I've gotten word that my defenses are weakening and I don't know how much longer I can keep the enemy at bay. I'd like to share something with you now. Here is the transcript of a letter I received just days ago from my very own war department. It confirms my fears and simply put, change is of the highest order. See if you agree:

Dearest Lord Goodman of Olay,

Most gracious sire; It is with the utmost humility and deepest regret that I am writing to you this day, the twenty-eighth day of March, year two thousand and ten of our lord. I am to inform you that our officers are no longer able to delay the growth of the rebellion, known locally, as "Wrinkles". I fear, if we do not act quickly, that the birth of an empire is eminent and evil shall rain down upon us.

It pains me to report, that in our once pure lands, peace and harmony have fallen victim to pressures baring no witness, and I fear for our resolve. Provisions are thin and moral is all but lost so time is of the essence.

For this I beseech you Sire; Bring down the declaration of war and again make steady our once proud defenses. We must restore balance to our kingdom for there is still purity in the lands, I have seen this so.

Wrinkles must not prevail!


Your most humble servant,
General Oil of Olay

You see, I have no choice. Listen, war does not scare me and there really is no alternative at this point but what does scare me is this, shock an awe. It's what I'm afraid I'm capable of if my vanity is again allowed to blossom. Hear me when I say that Hell hath no fury like a probationary metro sexual bearing the mark of the beast! You know what I mean?

Now to some this vanity revelation will come as a complete shock. Others may have noticed me wading in the shallows from time to time. Shoot, I've even swam with a few of you, and yet, that's not what concerns me.

What does concern me is this; the last chunk of the population I failed to mention, the ones that hide in the deep waters bearing only their eyes. They are the ones who will deceive at all cost, yet amazingly enough, will do whatever it takes to get noticed.

I fear I will one day be asked to rejoin these sad souls and their quest for colossal recognition and trust when I say that I will do everything in my power to keep this from happening. Honestly, I've been there and I want nothing to do with that life ever again, in fact, I fear them. I fear me!

If right about now you are wondering where all of these insecurities come from you're in luck because I'm going to tell you. If you were wondering why I'm not currently part of some psychological rehabilitation campaign, hold that thought.

See like most, I get my insecurities from my parents. I believe my mother is the queen bee of vanity and my father, well he is the wordsmith king of deception, both mere side dishes to the entree of low self esteem.

Now in the early years, the highly impressionable ones, I was introduced to my family's version of life's commandments. They were pretty straight forward and by the guidance of the two that created them, learning them would be simple. They are:

1.) Help others only when it benefits you and more times than not, others have ulterior motives when in need of said help.

2.) Compliments on appearance are the ultimate prize and to receive none is simply unacceptable, a failure.

3.) The bargain bin in a JC Penny outweighs the desperate plea, of a child, to get to a bathroom quickly. (This one I learned at eight years old and at the cost of a ride home in soiled pants and an explosion of humiliation made worse by the laughter from the front seat)

4.) Someone new to the group is a threat and usually a thief. Quite frankly they are the enemy, especially if they are good looking.

5.) Getting sick and producing a cough is the cowardly act of a moron and punishable by banishment from one's sleeping quarters.

6.) Never request a ride home after one's makeup and hair has been compromised for being seen in such a horrid condition is a fate worse than death. Walk, it is safer!

I'd like to give you an example of that last one because It still rings fresh with me after all these years. We'll have to go back to around the year 1986. This was a time of rambunctious innocence when fourteen year old males did nothing but hunger for a good party, a beer to sip'n'hate, and a chick to go with. (The occasional chapped lips due to make out sessions was highly coveted at that age) There was just one problem, no license to drive.

What I'm about to unveil to you is one of many phone conversations I had with my mother, my sole supplier of necessary transportation for dad was never home. Here it is in it's entirety. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent.

RING......RING......RING! (For effect)

Gary: Hey mom, can you come pick me up? I'm ready.

Mom: Awe shit, Gary! Nobody else's parents can do it?!?! I'm in for the night, damn it!!!

Gary: Nobody else is leaving, or, if they are then they're going in a totally different direction.

Mom: I don't have to get out of the car do I?!?! Awe damn it boy, my hair's a mess!!! Shit, can't you walk, where are you?!?!

Gary: I told you earlier I would need a ride home. Mom, nobody will see you, it's nighttime. I'm at such and suches house, too far to walk and it's like thirty five degrees and it's raining.

Mom: You sure I don't have to get out of the car?!?! Where does such and such live?!?! I'll bet I've never been there!!! You better hope nobody sees me!

Gary: It's over by so and so's, you've passed it a thousand times. Mom, nobody is going to see you!

Mom: I've never been there before, where is that?!?! Gary, I don't know where that is! Are you sure nobody else can get bring you home? I look a mess!!!

And here is the last bit after she had picked me up:

Gary: Thanks mom, sorry about that.

Mom: Awe shit, I know they can see me and I look terrible!!!

Gary: Nobody can see you and who cares if they do?

Mom: I care damn it, look at me!!!

Now that is just the tip of the iceberg but at the risk of putting the bus in reverse and running back over dear old mom, I'll quit there.

Dad, on the other hand, is a whole different ball game. With no continuity in his thought process and an habitual failure to ever really participate in family functions, we could never figure him out. Therefore an example would be lengthy and surly lost in translation. The only explanation that I could come up with, is that he's only really comfortable in three places; The bar, the basement (under a blanket) and at work.

I guess what I'm saying is that growing up in my house had it's ups and downs, as most of you can probably relate. One thing is for sure though, now that I'm in my late thirties, I get a much clearer understanding of who I am through introspection. When I look in the mirror, vanity just so happens to be the latest image staring back at me. Now I can either turn my head and cough or I can do what comes naturally these days and embrace the truth by acknowledging this latest reflection.

We should all take a page from the wicked queen's book and ask this question once in a while; Mirror Mirror on the wall? Only look past the surface, for the soul of a person is so much more beautiful than the shell and how shallow the shell is….. blah blah blah blah blah blah.

Reflection, being introspective, it's really just about having the guts to own up to who we are, don't you think?

I've written quite a bit about insecurities over the past eight months, I mean you've got to write what you know. Thinking back, Some were funny, some were serious and some were even funny serious. Then there were those that were funny strange yet funny and even some that were strange funny yet seriously strange. Once in a while you might have gotten the strange serious without the clever but never the serious without the funny and almost NEVER did you get the strange serious without the meaningful.

So in closing, crow's feet are just lines on the surface but like an iceberg, they can go pretty deep with some folks. In fact, all the way to the heart.

Should Have Made that Left Turn at Albuquoikee

This has been the longest I've gone without writing and I think I have finally figured out why. I think I've reached a crossroad.

I know I'm still very new to this putting thought to keystroke thing, naive you could say, but I have definitely stumbled onto a path of uncertainty. Are crossroads supposed to be this confusing? Is this normal? Umm......was that a tumbleweed? @$#%

Let me fill you in on the goings on here. I've got lots of ideas swirling around that are coming at me like swarms of angry bees and not the wimpy European kind either. Now I know things could always be a lot worse and the woe is me factor might be leaking in here a bit but I used to be able to monitor and control my brain barf. At least with some measurable amount of discipline that is. Now I'm struggling to contain it and I'm having a hard time putting it to word.

I don't know what you want to read! I don't know if you care! I don't know what I want to write! I don't know if I can write anymore! I don't know why I still watch Idol!

Lately my head is like a Billy Mays infomercial, energetic yet spastic. There are so many aimless thoughts, bits of advice, visions, explosions of insight, dream descriptions, theorems, algorithms, theories, nightmares, movie lines and unanswered questions just floating around. There is even one very special fantasy of my third grade teacher naked. Doesn't it figure, that's the clearest thought I have.

All of these things have been meandering around inside my head for the last six or eight weeks now. It's jaywalking madness! Not to mention these unpopped brainstorm bubbles that are now colliding with the many other demons that also try to claim my cerebral cavern as their own. Try refereeing that contest, OY!

It used to be so easy to come up with something that I thought would surely entertain, at least a few people. Now I'm not so sure and I'm constantly second guessing myself.

For some reason I've started to think that putting a more serious tone into what I'm writing is the way to go. I really don't know why though. I guess it's because I've changed so much in the past few years. I guess when you gain an ounce of clarity you kind of want to spill out a pound of it, you know? I'll compare it to a smoker who quits and then yells at everyone for doing it. I think I want to shout my learning's to those who need or want, to listen.

Then I say to myself "Who the hell am I to spread life's lessons or messages?" For me, being goofy and posturing for a laugh is what I enjoy so why mess with that. This takes me right back to confusion.

I did have one brief moment the other day when clarity seemed to be peeking through the crowd of misfits and I thought.... Maybe it's a well deserved brain break.

Could that be it? Is the crossroad asking me to make a right turn down brain break alley? Could my brain be asking me to allow it to go through a purge cleansing? Maybe that is it. I have been doing a lot of writing these past eight months so I guess a break is OK, right?

I won't lie though, I've actually been very depressed at how hard it's been to assemble my thoughts lately. Although I will say this, it's not for the lack of them I can assure you. No kidding, I've got ideas coming in from everywhere and more than ever. They're even coming in over tweets or twits. Funny thing is I don't even twoot. It's just, for some reason, I'm unable to harness my ideas now.

Now on the other hand, what if I'm way off here. What if I'm being asked to make a left turn? OK, and what if a left turn puts me onto some lonely street coincidentally named Parrish way?!?!

Oh my God am I dying?!?! What if all of this uncertainty is something physical! Do I have some debilitating disease and I'm to write no more? What if it's cancer?!?! Can you get cancer of the imagination? That would be a horrible cancer to have! Not that they are not all horrible but can you imagine how you would have to administer treatment to your mentality?

Oh my God I can hear the headlines now; It was a long road and a battle that shall stand as one for the ages but he was unable to defeat the illness and Gary Goodman has succumb to faux cancer's evil grasp. If he could have just found a way to set aside the A.D.D. long enough to focus his thoughts solely on faux chemo. This of course being the only way to treat and defeat Cancer of the imagination, which we now clinically refer to as Cognisance Cancer.

Oy, I think I feel dizzy! OK, deep breath... maybe I'm going about this the wrong way. Instead of draping myself in the negativity, maybe I should call on the positivity here. Yep, I think that's a good idea. Here goes....

How about this, maybe my blip on the radar is not a crossroad at all. Maybe, just maybe, the past eight months I've been tickling a sleeping madman. Maybe it's my brain waking up. Maybe it's opening up like an old chest in the attic. Hmm, an old chest that when opened, throws up a billowy cloud of dust. A small, yet intense, particle storm that issues a warning and tastes of stale air. You know, the cloud of crap you've got to squint through in the hopes of getting a peek at the possible treasure that may lay waiting inside.

Yeah but what if I don't like what's waiting for me? What if it's like Geraldo Rivera opening up Al Capone's vault and after all of the build up there is nothing? What if, in my chest, they find nothing but mud and some years later some old hag tosses my stolen creativity off the stern of a ship along with some jewels. Did you ever think of that?!?! My creativity in question and me along with it, sinking into the abyss known as literary ineptitude. Please say it isn't so!

OK, I know I'm not ending world hunger here, I'm simply allowing myself to vent through a keyboard but....... If it ain't no fun then don't do it. Yeah but I love doing it and I'm having mucho fun so I'm going to get to the bottom of this and get back with you all soon, I hope.

In closing, call this what you will; a crossroad, test, mental block, small stroke, cough due to cold, deep sea excursion, self indulgent fluff or awakening, whatever, it's definitely perplexing.

Clarity Within Lie My Three Sins

There the strength to guide and the vision to lead
A crack under strain yields relent
Turn away lust and rise to the light
In a raging calm you call, stand with me
Familiar the walls that cloak with comfort
There the battle is hidden from all to see
Carry the protected and hold them up high
Under their lead be the lead
To be carried not carry and to be held not to hold
There in the shadow lies sin number one


The quiet of snowfall
The turbulent winds
The dancing rain
The bellowing thunder
The calls from the dark
Mother nature's choir can pierce the deaf ear
Yet it can not crest the cold shoulder
To render one mute is sin number two


Get lost in the silence, let it resound
Bow to the pain and allow it to tire
Acknowledge the crowds, help one to find you
Embrace the grief to usher it's pass
Speak to the anger, for the rage it lies
For it's within these five sin three surely hides

Here's to the Dawning of the Age

I, Gary, have just recently had the weight of the world removed from my shoulders. Not to mention the many voices that instantaneously fell silent. In fact, while I'm writing this, I'm beginning to feel a little giddy and I can hardly contain myself. I think I'm actually feeling the need to bellow a barbaric yawp! Are you ready?

YA.... I now know why I am the way I am. I know now why my thoughts sometimes haunt me, and others. I know why I can't seem to get out of my own way, and I can honestly say I now know why I'm bald. I'm an Aquarian! ....WP

I feel better now so please allow me to explain. Just the other day a dear friend sent me the most wonderful gift. It was a site link. This was no ordinary link though. If I told you that this beautiful cyber pathway took me to a magical place, would you believe me? Well it did. It was the bridge that joined together the "desperate", who is played by yours truly, and the "complete definition of the desperate”, as played by a web page.

I'm telling you I feel like I was given a golden ticket with this link; a ticket that grants me passage aboard total consciousness. Wow, could it really be? Would I finally get to yell bon voyage to the many Gary’s who, up until this point, have influenced most of my critical decision making? Would I finally be allowed to shake off the many impostors who have gregariously kept me hostage while tagging along, on my ride nonetheless? With this new found clarity, I think yes. I now know that it's OK to be just plain old me. I have been stamped, approved and accredited.

Oh I'm sorry, would you like to know the web page this amazing link points to? Then take my hand and let’s ride the yellow brick cyber road to a page that fully describes something with such detail, that it drips of understanding. It is a page so full of light that it radiates the warmth of comprehension. The page to which I'm referring is: http://www.gotohoroscope.com/aquarius-meanings.html.

The site, to which this page belongs, fully explains the characteristics and traits of the zodiac signs. I'm Aquarius so it clarifies, for me, what it means to have been born on January 22nd 1972. This is a date that, up until just recently, had very little meaning.

He got all of this clarity from a zodiac sign description, you ask? Believe me I'm totally with you in your skepticism. I mean who would have guessed that a small group of stars, pieced together by imaginary lines, and then cloaked with history, would have been holding the key all along; certainly not me.

Here I'd been thinking that the trials and tribulations of day to day life and the decisions we make there in, followed closely by the interpretations made from such actions, would've been the guiding light to salvation. What a fool I was, we are.

I have to tell you, it is extremely eerie and somewhat liberating to read a description that is so spot on me, it's as if I wrote it.

I guess the main reason for me writing all of this, aside from wanting to share the dead on description, is the strange feeling that this web page has somehow playfully added punctuation to the last couple of years of my life. Now if I may, I would like to go back a little ways to shed some light on just that.

Sometime in my early teens I started questioning my purpose in this world. I've never been much into religion, faith and certainly not into celestial mumbo jumbo of any kind, until now at least. What I have always felt though, is that I had a true calling in life or a niche, so to speak. I've always felt that I had something major to contribute to this world.

Now I have said it before and I'll say it again, in the great words of the late Ted Night, "Well the world needs ditch diggers too". I fully understand that, I do. It's just that deep down inside, even in my early teens, I had this feeling in my gut, a yearning if you will. I felt I needed to locate my true self. I knew even then that I had something to say to the world, or at least that's what my stomach led me to believe. Actually, the way I ate, it could have been indigestion. On the other hand, maybe it was insecurities, even back then. Lord knows I'm full of them still. Whatever the case may be, there was a strong sense of uncertainty that lived inside me. Little did I know that it would govern my every move for years to come?

I can remember, about the time I was thirteen, when I starting making a regular wish. I would make this wish every chance I got. Be it birthday cakes, eyelashes, the breastbone of many birds, shooting stars, three legged women, green clovers, blue diamonds or even spotting an albino basset hound, whatever, my wish was always the same. You name it and I wished on it. Now don't laugh but in perfect OCD fashion, I kept with that same wish for many years. I still use a variation of it today as a matter of fact, minus the three legged women of course.

Now I know I'm not supposed to let anyone ever know of this but my wish was: Please let me find my way in life, keep those in my family free from misfortune and make me wealthy someday. I know it's a triple shot but hey, you got to give a guy points for originality, right?

I truly believe though, that sticking with my wish and staying the course all these years, it has paid off. I have been chipping away at the uncertainty that lives in me and little by little I have been finding my way over the past twenty five years.

I know this to be true because about two years ago I had what I now proudly refer to as my "Moment"; the moment when many worlds collided. Those being, the persistence of a thirteen year old boy, the desperate pleas of a father of two and all that lay in between. (The full description of the moment is for another time so just bare with me). For the first time in my life things were starting to clear up. I got a glimpse of what my purpose was and I liked it.

What I was to understand was that the answers I sought would come in steps, stages if you will. Makes sense really, imagine if clarity came all at once, overwhelmed is what we'd be. Anyway, step one screamed out the loudest and brought about a one-eighty in my thought process. It was simple. I am to love and respect my wife unconditionally. There was to be no flexibility with this one, I knew that. I was to shelve my selfishness forever and show this woman, my soul mate, exactly what she means to me, without reservations and the petty games.

With that in mind, in came the fear that if I somehow didn't get it together, I could loose this woman forever. I suddenly knew, with this as my focus, all else would fall into place. Namely step two, which is for me to be the father that my two beautiful children so deserve.

My purpose in life was suddenly simple. To embrace those two privileges of mine and to make sure that I stay the course. In doing so I am pretty sure everything else in my life would just fall into place. Imagine, soon I can start to prepare for what I am going to be when I grow up.

Well what do you know; my wish has come true, two thirds of it at least. I'm still praying for the third installment; that being keeping my family free from misfortune.

Now who would have thought that one wish, made over and over again, would someday come to fruition. I am finding my way. I know that now. I know this because I am wealthy. I just always figured that wealth meant money.

It's pretty amazing what happens when you let your heart and your brain talk to one another. Suddenly I'm headed for a place I used to wish for and could once only dream about. I'm headed for peace of mind with a dangerous amount of clarity to boot. My life is no longer a run on sentence, for I have punctuation and a golden ticket to prove it.

Can I get Another Fortune Cookie?

I overreacted again. If only it was just me that had to deal with the mixed bag of emotions after doing so. If only it was just me that was going to have to sift through the wreckage and clean up the mess.

Ugh, now I’m going to have to grovel at the feet of my victims again; ain’t gonna be the first time, or the last. Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?

Guilt stinks!

So what is it, inside us, that when called upon will allow anger and confusion to be produced and released, most commonly on those we love, and usually as Shock and Awe?

Do you really want to know? Shhhhhhhhhhhhh, are you ready? Here it is:
INSECURITY!!!!!!!!

There you have it, the Godfather of all arguments! It’s the ringleader of regret, the ambassador to anxiety, and the shepherd of Should've-thought-it-through-ville.

A bouquet of negativity pieced together in an arrangement of indecision, anxiety, hesitancy, and self doubt; that’s insecurity.

Now as I raise this candle in front of me, I want you all to know that I am a recovering sufferer of massive insecurities. I am doing my best to make changes though, and according to my latest fortune cookie, I am very good with garden tools. Huh?

Anyway, it doesn't take a Rocket Scientist to know where overreaction comes from. I mean I haven't broken any new ground here.

Many of us have insecurities and for those who choose to stay unearthed and who have chosen to keep with the belief that excessive reactions, bearing highly inappropriate behavior and or violence, are warranted- WAKE UP!

In my humble opinion, it's time to let go of the complete lack of confidence and the plethora of selfishness. It's time, for me at least, to show my loved ones just how strong I can be. Now if I could just put a stop to the reactions snowballing out of control.

Unfortunately, I find myself tested time and time again and coming up a little short. Don't get me wrong, I have my moments where, I feel, I've handled situations perfectly. It's just that the ones I didn't handle so well, well, they just supersede.

I'll give you an example. One Friday evening not that long ago I was gleefully driving home from work. Somewhere along the way I started to realize just how magnificent that night was going to be. No rhyme or reason, just an innocent, non clinically proven manic depressive, clinging to a passing wave of joy. Gosh that sounds depressing. Anyway, the closer I got to home the more my appearance took on the look of a four year old who has just seen the Christmas tree skirted with presents. For some strange reason I picked this night to be the night that would define all others and by the time I got home I was bursting with anticipation. I do that so often; I get so pumped up and mega excited about something that it's almost destined for doom.

So what was going to make this evening so awesome you ask? Well, I figured we would eat something fun for dinner, play awesome games with the kids, give them a tub filled fun bath, read many many books and put them to bed. After that my perfect outline for adult time would be followed. It states; a Couple of drinks, a little Wii, a magnificent back rub for me and a few more drinks. Maybe even a pizza around eleven for good measure.

Look, when you're borderline bipolar, the simplest of activities can get you going. Nevertheless, I was so overly excited at how perfect the night was going to be that it should have been a sign.

Ok, I roll up the driveway and walk into the garage. Just as I'm hitting the button to close the door I hear my 3 year old crying and coughing. Then, with the audibility equal to that of a rock smashing through plate glass, my smile broke in half bringing the corners crashing down. My shoulders then dropped hard enough to allow my joints to dislocate, nearly putting my finger tips to the floor. My head then plunged, seemingly separating my spine, somewhere between cervical six and seven, I think.

I know I know! It was a cough and crying for goodness sake. You would have thought I was getting ready to walk into a concentration camp filled with mutants who were plagued by a flesh eating disease of biblical proportions. I just knew that my anticipation had murdered another awesome evening, which it had done so many times before.

Then, as the garage was almost finished sealing me in for good, I called upon my neck muscles and whipped my head around. I did this just in time to see a vision of all of the neighbors. They were hand to mouth pointing and giggling. It was in slow motion nonetheless. Their laughter was billowing around me to where I could feel the pressure on my face.

Now in spite of all this, I took in a deep breath and turned for the door. As I grabbed for the knob, I prepared myself for the mass quantities of decaying flesh and bone. I then gathered up my dangling extremities, up righted my flopping head and entered the dwelling a beaten man. I carefully tried to conceal my total annihilation of the weekend appearance and greeted my family. I then painfully hoisted my broken lips and did my best to hold together the fractured smile. My broken body began to give off pulsations of horrific pain, yet I listened as my wife spoke. She said to me "Guess what, DJ has a slight fever and Abby has a little tummy ache". Ohhhhhh the pain!!!

I know what you're thinking, not that big of a deal right? Yes, you would think that I could have just realigned my inner gear shifter to the "PARENT NEEDED MODE", right? Not me! Remember, I planned this night to stand apart from all others. For whatever reason, this was to be my swan song of Friday nights.

What I'm about to type now is exactly what I thought I heard come pouring out of my wife's mouth. I swear this is what she said; Gary Help!!! DJ has a fever of a hundred and twelve and is periodically bursting into flames! -And- Abby is in our room bleeding from the eyes, speaking in tongues, and projectile vomiting into all of our dresser drawers!

Now, after I held an imaginary fuel can above my head, doused myself, and struck up an entire book of matches, I proceeded forward with a counter offensive. It was as follows: Phase 1: I asked my wife how in the heck she could let all of this happen, AGAIN!
Phase 2: I told my daughter that she eats too much junk and NEVER eats anything healthy and that's why her stomach ALWAYS hurts.
Phase 3: And the most preposterous of the three installments to the "Sickness handling plan" was to ask my son to skip his next six years, moving him right to age ten.
This was not one of my shining moments let me tell you.

What's really sad is this is just one of many examples of my overreacting. Oy vey! Why can't I just relax and go with what's been presented in a more soothing, comforting manner that's best for everyone involved? Anger laced with confusion always seems to be the first bubble to come to the surface in my pot to pop. I want to handle change and adversity better, I really do!

Then, to throw in some more confusion, you have those times when I walk in the door and find my wife dressed in full riot gear. Obviously she is in preparation for my reaction to the latest less than perfect news. Ironically, those are the nights I come home full of hugs and with the strength of a thousand men. Go figure.

I can only imagine what it's like for my wife to have to give me news of a less the perfect nature. I picture two bridges for her to cross. One is a ten thousand year old, canyon connecting, wood stepped suspension bridge. It is supported by rope and is ready to snap at any second. The other is a ten thousand year old, canyon connecting, wood stepped suspension bridge. It is supported by rope and it too is ready to snap at any second.

How in the hell does she choose?

Memo to Phil

I just got finished watching the movie 2012 and it got me thinking. Why are all historical prophecies riddled in negativity? Why do they always forecast doom? I'm confused and my history may not be so good so tell me: Were the Mayans a repressed group of lost souls whose purpose was to draw up the blueprints of the demise of future civilizations and then to vanish?

It seems to me that diddling in the realm of negativity made it painful for these mystical people and therefore brought about a short lived existence. I mean with all of the sacrifice and ceremonial beheadings you would think one might have wanted to steer clear of the doomsday prophecy. Perhaps calling out the end of the world, every other Thursday, was not such a good idea.

Maybe they should have spent a little more time focusing on something positive. Maybe they should have predicted something pleasant, something like: Someday, many years from now, a guy named Teddy will have ten beautiful children; ten lovely human beings who will help their dad grow to become the greatest and most gracious ruler ever to sashay in the shadows of the earth's natural wonders.

Then maybe they could have predicted that these ten do-gooders would’ve been instrumental in putting an end to all ceremonial sacrificial carnage. Not long after that they might have gotten up the nerve to lay down a ballsy declaration like seeing to it that no one would ever suffer through another celebrity power couple naming, ever again!

Na, lets just stick with fiery painful end of days and while we're at it, let’s disembowel a few more of the weak and needy just for good measure; all in favor?

The Mayans weren't the only ones, you know. There would be prophets to come; perhaps none more influential than Nostradamus. What was his story anyway? Was this joker so tormented throughout the adolescent years that it paved the way for such priceless prediction gems as his own death and world war III?

Seriously, were the prophets of yesteryear the nerdy kids at the lunch table? Were these depressing souls dampened by a swirly or two? Maybe they were Goth misfits?  

I’m getting the feeling had some of the earlier predictions been made sometime in the latter part of the 20th century, that maybe they would have been whispered through the vent slots of a dark school locker; Just sayin’.

Nostradamus, Patheticus, Unappreciatus, Miserableshitakus; tell me something, Where was John? I’ll be damned if a John would’ve laid down some miserable run on sentence of modern day disaster; not even if he saw THESE trying times looming.

John would be strong but gentle; course but fair. John would have taken into consideration the children and the elderly. John would’ve united the masses, all the while separating the strong, and those that would be protected.

I’ll bet John would have bestowed upon us, pleasant, current, and necessary declarations like; "So and so is going to put out the next celebrity sex tape" and maybe the answers to "What the hell happened on Lost"! You can always trust a John.

So I ask you: WHERE IN THE HELL IS JOHN? Where are all the positive predictions of today? Where are all the feel good forecasts? Where are all of the happily ever afters and uplifting news stories?

I'll tell you where they are. They are buried in shallow literature graves and are being held dormant by the Duke of depression himself; the modern day Kukulkan; the great dictator, less all others. He is… some editor dude named Phil, I think.

He knows it! He knows that negativity feeds the masses and nourishes the ignorant, and quite frankly, we should be tired of it.

Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Paris Hilton, earthquakes, global warming, drought, std's, celebrity rehab, killer bees, bed bugs, rising gas prices, murderers, molesters, SARS, west Nile, swine, Ebola, polar ice caps and David Hasselhoff. ENOUGH ALL READY!!! WE GET IT!!!

Hey, speaking of the ice caps, here is my thought on that issue. I say we have a corporate group bottle the stuff that is melting and hawk it during the upcoming Olympic Games. It could be put to a Morgan Freeman voice overlaid commercial. The other thought I had would be to distribute it to underprivileged nations around the world, who so desperately need it, but why do that?

Ooh wait, hot off the presses! Hey Phil, some unfamiliar cellulite was found jiggling on the beaches of southern California this past weekend. That of course should pale in comparison to the profound rumor that Hugh Jackman and Eliza Dushku may have hooked up. The alleged couple's new uni-name is already in.........."Man-Doosh".

(Deep inhalation)

So where was I......Ahh yes, in my most humble of opinions here is what I think all of the negativity over the years has done for us: It has polluted our teachings, printed material, fantasies and our air waves. It has given birth to such priceless treasures as war, poverty, famine, disease, bigotry and OCD. Not to mention spandex, lunchables, botox, Ernest Angley, any show on FOX that starts with “WORLDS MOST” or “CELEBRITY”, and the potato chip bag re-sealer.

Furthermore, because of all of this, we have been shown since birth how to feel anger towards those who prosper and also to bathe ourselves in other's misfortune. Thanks ancestors; thanks Phil!

Are we so shallow that we can't for a second allow ourselves to breathe in someone else’s fresh air? I don't know about you but after I read that Jimmy Joe and Effie Mae just won the Mega Millions I don't feel like I need to travel to Ditchbilly Kentucky to see to their death. I'm happy for them! Sure I would love to have won it myself but hey, there is always another play. Besides, that long drive would simmer the rolling boil anyway.

And another thing, why does the front page of the morning paper have to show pictures of the one surviving child sitting outside of the four hundred passenger bullet train that just crashed into the Romanian orphanage? I'm not saying to lay a blind eye on disaster but can't the news give us some uplifting stories, just once in a while?

I say stop incessantly regurgitating current waves of unimaginable hardships. I also say stop digging up historical scrolls of doom contaminated with prophetic catastrophes. I'm full fledged tired of feeling depressed on the cue of the rooster and being prepared by mid day for the end of it all!

This life is short enough that I don't need to be spending most of it peeking through the blinds during breaks I’ve taken while constructing my very own fall out shelter. God knows I have enough to do before bed as it is.

There are positive things to hear and read about out there! I want those! We all know that crime, unfortunate events and violence are everywhere so constantly bombarding us with it is just plain detrimentally redundant. Shoot, wasn't it just a short time ago that Disney was telling us not to forget to dream.

And another thing, tell me if I'm wrong but aren't we taught as small children to smile to others, that it is contagious; To do unto others as you would have done to you; To lend a helping hand? Well I've got news for you, somewhere along the line these great words of wisdom were grapvined into; Don't stare it's a threatening gesture ; Take what you can before they do; and lastly; Don’t get involved, they'll be alright. Migration to the dark side is a joyride, I guess.

Now, on many occasion, I myself have wondered if there was something I could do about all of this that would conjure up a spark and Ignite the people in a delightful fashion. I've always felt that there had to be something I could do.

Well guess what, seeing the 2012 re-run was my falling apple because it has come to me.

Short, plain and simple, I should start an all positive news paper. Hey, maybe I could even convince folks to pay for it. I'm talking about real uplifting stuff. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Imagine page after page of joyful articles gleefully portraying mediocre existences in a light so bright you'd shed a tear; a circulatory information publication that would unite the thirsty and ignite the desperate.

This would be a paper where the weather page would exist only if it was to be sunny. Here, the sports page would report victories without scrutiny and would playfully mock defeat with an inspirational epilogue. My police blotter would read of wallets returned, murderers rehabilitated and of hookers that not only provide bliss but tutor quantum physics as well. The local section in my paper would not run the story of the toddler who was sent to the docks to inspect uranium containers in order to support his crack saturated parents. Instead, my paper would run a local piece that produces the headline that reads:
After a long and perilous journey, little orphan Davy Tatum was adopted today at the tender age of 52.

There has to be a plethora of positive news out there to report on, don't you think? I'm going to get to work on this, ASAP! I am also now going to go on record:
Read Ye Read Ye.....From this day forth, I Gary, shall never READ, LISTEN or INGEST another PASSAGE, SOUND OR PRODUCT OF SUSTENANCE that is of a nature less than that of positive.