On They Might Be Giants and Not Being Too Old to Go to a Show

I recently saw an ad from one of my favorite bands (They Might Be Giants) looking for people to join their secret fan club. I am technically not allowed to talk about the club (haha, inside club joke), but one of the many perks were two "free" tickets to any one of their upcoming shows. I looked up to see where they were going to be playing and I saw Albany (which is close to where I live) was one of the stops on their tour. Doing a little math, comparing the cost of  two tickets and all the other stuff they were offering versus the cost of the membership, it ended up being an easy decision. I joined!

The last time I saw the band, a good 5+ years ago, it had been at the Egg, which is a fantastic venue located in Albany so I assumed that this is where they were going to be playing. TMBG even sang a song about this venue called, surprisingly enough "The Egg," Why would I think the concert would be anywhere else, right? .... right? <Fill in phrase about assuming and asses and me and you, etc.>

Later, as more details came out, I noticed the tour posters and such said they were actually playing at the Upstate Concert Hall... which is not in Albany but Clifton Park (which is 20 miles north of Albany.) This concerned me. I had never been to the UCH before and had heard mixed opinions about it. Some people told me it was good, but it really depended on what band was playing. Others said that it was just a big bar, there was no seating and it got very hot, especially with a lot of people packed in it. 

Now this last bit was a bit distressing. I am not that old (44) but the thought of standing for a couple of hours with my wife, with a ton of people crushed into us in a sweltering, confined space did not appeal to me. I almost talked myself out of going. The tickets were basically good forever and I figured I could just wait for the band to perform in a location where I could sit my lazy ass down. I decided to just suck it up and go and let me tell you, I am very, very , very glad I did.

Just to give a brief history of my concerting experience. My first show was Guns N' Roses opening for Aerosmith late in high school (88'-89' ish). Next I saw the Violent Femmes at my college before  "Blister in the Sun" was a hit for them and that was pretty much it, until I got divorced a little over 5 years ago. Then I saw a friend/co-worker's band play a couple of local bars, went and saw Cake, Weezer (It was also supposed to be Blink 182, but they had to cancel at the last minute) and TMBG the first time. All of the latter venues all had seating, so my wimpy ass was fine.

Fast forward and now I find myself and my wife at the show. We got there really early and got pretty close to the stage (maybe 3-4 "rows" back). The place was not as bad as I had heard... actually it was pretty cool! The temperature was not overwhelming, though I could see it being bad in the middle of summer. The band played two sets and my wife and I dropped back after the first set to cool down a bit.

I can't even begin to tell you how fun it was. I got to annoy the people behind me with my amateur film making (though I covered the back of the camera with my hand to try to minimize the glowing screen, I'm sure the people behind me were like, "All right Spike Jonze, that's a wrap!") I also got repeatedly jostled by the happy, dancing, were-so-in-love couple next to me. My wife kept getting hit by the girls hair, so I think she may have had it worse. We also had the periodic tall person drift in front of us which just made me enjoy the experience all the more.

I never really went to the dive bars and shitty venues to see bands. I don't drink so I never really went to bars in general. This concert made me feel that I was getting to experience a little of what I missed, especially considering I was there with a beautiful woman. Not only was the music great but so was the crowd. Then again, I really wasn't expecting it to be that bad. TMBG is not a death metal band and is known not only for their alternative/indie rock but also their kids albums (they did not bust out with "The Hot Dog Song," but I am sure it would have been hilarious if they had) so there was no mosh pit or really aggressive personality types. It was just a very mellow crowd enjoying an awesome band.

The band was promoting a new album which was good for the people around me because I was unfamiliar with the lion's share of the songs they played so the crowd was spared my awful singing. That is by far my biggest fault as a concert goer. I'm a wanna be singer and I am terrible at it! Despite the many new tunes, they played most of their big older titles for all us long time fans and it took me back to college where I was first introduced to They Might Be Giants.

I will never be a reviewer because I like everything. I am not a musician so I wouldn't even notice if the music was off, unless it was really, really noticeable, so I will just say they sounded great. The light show was good, the volume was good (I was not deafened by the sound) the band was hilarious and really had great onstage banter. Everything was just, in a word... awesome. When the show ended, I could not believe how much time had passed. It went by too quick. But you know what they say about time flying when fun/a good time is involved.

The only thing I will say negative is (not specifically about TMBG, but concerts in general) that I really hate the concept of the "encore." I was already getting tired and hoarse from a long night of screaming and clapping and then you have to do a bunch more to get them to come out and play a couple of more tunes. You know they were already planning on coming out again and then they make you do it again. I wish they would just say that "We are going to do two encores tonight. We will say thank you and good night and duck down a little bit, pretending we ran of the stage. All of you just do one round of rhythmic clapping and we will pop up after it crescendos. You cheer. We play an extra song or three. We will do it all one more time and the show will end."

When my wife and I left the show we were both pretty wired, but weary. In younger days we probably would have hit Denny's or something, but being old folks with kids, we had to get home. My sister was watching the little ones and we figured she would like to get home at some point before dawn. Over all it was a great experience. With having kids and dealing with the regular day to day of adult life, it was nice to jump in the time machine and act like our younger selves. My wife and I have been friends since college, but have only been married for a short time. We missed a lot of these wild crazy nights, but if this concert has shown us anything, we aren't too old to make new memories and rock on! Now if I can only convince her to go see GWAR when they are in town next....

ps. In case you don't know who GWAR is. Here is a photo (though their lead singer just passed last year, I am using a photo with him in it. Miss you Dave!)

           

On Griswolding (or How I Started Becoming My Father)

I have to say, it is hard to keep up writing the blog when I am trying to do a couple of large side projects, working a regular job and raising children. I wanted to get a post out a while ago, but that didn't happen. This is one I wrote a while ago and is probably in need of proper editing, but I just had to get something out. Speaking of raising children, after Christmas I got my first visitation with my three oldest kids since their sudden move to Virginia over the summer. (My ex-wife decided to move down there with her boyfriend which is another story altogether.)

It was great seeing the kids, as one can imagine, but it did have its challenges. Fitting everyone in the house for a week, my oldest son had a seizure in the van on the way home from getting them and one the last night he was here, (He had a seizure a couple of years ago and he is now my third child diagnosed with epilepsy.) and just the change in energy that a they all brought to the house was tough (not to mention the quantities of food they consume!!).  Despite all this it was a great visit.

I have to admit, my older kids have some issues, and whenever I talk to them on the phone, especially around holidays and birthdays, they do remind me a bit of the kids in "Talladega Nights." The scene that always pops into my head is when the children are told by Will Farrell's character that he and their mother are getting a divorce and they start cheering and saying "Yaaaa. Two Christmas' " Not that it is that bad, but the subject of present giving becomes the common theme of all conversations before these holidays/events. 

One of the activities we did as a family when the kids were here was go bowling. My wife and I have taken everyone before so we had a good idea of what we were getting ourselves into. My sister and her husband joined us (My brother-in-law coming was a surprise because he is not a big fan of children (or maybe just my hyperactive ones.)) which helps with kid wrangling and to keep things flowing smoothly. Unfortunately I knew we were going to have trouble as soon as we walked over to our lanes and saw the arcade directly behind us.

My kids, like I was when I was a kid, are obsessed with arcades. Shiny lights and all sorts of noises draw them like moths to a flame. As I said, I understand them because I was them, many moons ago. I am still like that to some degree, just watch me in Applebee's, or any restaurant that has a TV going. I barely like sports and will stare blankly at the screen (Which my wife loves, I can tell you (sarcasm, if you missed it)). I knew the arcade would a sirens call, but I decided I would try to stop it.

I set ground rules at first and said I would give them some time later in our bowling adventure and for a time things were going well. I don't know when I lost it. I think it was when the kids finished their game before ours. They asked if they could go check the games out and I foolishly said "sure." Then I lost them. The adults finished, and we all started the second game. I looked over at the kids lane and only the person bowling was there. The other two were sitting on plastic motorcycles, pretending they were actually playing the arcade game (something else I always did as a kid as well.) 

Time and time again it was calling into the arcade to let the person whose turn it was to come out and bowl and I started getting annoyed. I finally snapped when my older daughter threw the second ball of her frame and ran back to the arcade before the ball even got to the pins. I called all three kids over and made them sit and participate in "Family Fun." Of course I had some scowls and grumpiness, especially from my 15 year old daughter, but they rolled with it pretty well.

On looking back, all I could think was "I'm turning into my father." I remember putting my father through the same kind of stuff when I was younger, especially during the teenage years. We (my family that is) often referred to my dad as Clark Griswold (from the Vacation movies.) He never gave us the "Were going to have so much fun we'll be whistling Zippity-doo-da out of our assholes" speech, but he certainly tried to make sure we all had family fun, whether we wanted to or not. At the time I don't remember much more than being annoyed. Now that I look back and especially now that I am a father, I get it. It hits home even more considering how little time I ended up having with him, since he died of a heart attack at 45.   

I honestly felt bad that I snapped at the kids during bowling. None of it was their fault. I set my expectations way too high and did not follow through with the rules I had established. With only getting to see my kids a few times a year and the fact that they are growing so damn fast, I guess I wanted to have as much "family fun" as I could before the kids are grown up and on their own. With what happened at the bowling alley, I really feel like have embraced my inner Griswold. I bet my father couldn't be prouder.      

On weathering the Sh*t Storm

I don't know if I blocked it out of my head after my daughter was born but how can so much shit come out of something so tiny? As my son hits one month old I have to marvel at the sheer number of diapers that we have gone through in this short amount of time. I have been thinking of advising my wife to just strap the diapers directly to her breast and skip the middleman or, should I say, middlebaby.

I have had this kid poop three times in the middle of changing one diaper. Let me paint the picture for you (insert brown paint joke here): The boy is either finishing eating or sleeping quietly after a feeding. And let me just add, does he ever stop eating? (I see a correlation!) You suddenly hear the sound of his diaper filling (well, not quite filling, but you get the point.) At first my wife and I pretend like we didn't hear it, hoping the other will take care of it. In this example, I decide to cave first and take care of it, because I am just a nice guy (and my wife is much better at pretending nothing happened than me... haha, just kidding!) I get the boy and slowly peel back the diaper, let some air hit the little guy's little yellow water cannon, so it doesn't turn into one. Once the coast is clear, I put the new diaper underneath, and quickly pull out the dirty one. Then I wipe the bottom and in mid-wipe, more poop starts coming out. So I wait and give it a minute or so. Then get another diaper, wipe again and toss the dirty diapers away and seal the new one. Then I go ahead and zip, button, screw, velcro, snap, whatever is required to get his clothes back on and pick him up. He looks at me, gives me the middle finger and unleashes another fecal storm into the new diaper. That's when I scream, then cry a little bit and leave him in a messy diaper for the next three days just to teach him a lesson. Just kidding, I only left him in the messy diaper for two days. Just kidding again (my son cannot give the middle finger yet and I would not leave any baby in a dirty diaper for very long... the scream and the tears--100% true.)

Now this scenario does not happen every time but it has occurred, unfortunately, more than once. And while I am talking about poop, I remember the first time with my daughter there was definitely a lot of concern about the shape, size, color, texture of every poop that she created. They even gave us a chart on what different poops signified. Though they did not give us a chart this time, we were still required to do poop augury. My daughter had wonderful, Dijon mustard colored poo for most of her first months, yet my son's has been greenish. Uh oh.... to the Internet!

Let me just go off on a little tangent and say that the worst thing any new parent should do is look for answers to medical questions on the Internet. You go to one of the big MD sites and type in your symptoms, or concerns and you get, the most probable causes, which is good... but then you make the mistake of continuing to reading. At the bottom of the list of possible issues are the rare one-in-a-million-chance diseases that are placed there to scare the living crap out of you (especially when your child has all of the symptoms!) But then again, you also tend to start Jelly Bellying the situation. This is a term that I use for when your mind starts making up stuff based on an implanted suggestion, for example, someone hands you a Jelly Belly jelly bean candy and asks you what flavor it is. You chew, and chew and can't figure out what it is... until the person who gave you the candy says what flavor it is and you instantly taste the flavor. You start seeing symptoms that aren't there and you slowly head down that road to panic and wasteful doctor visits. (Unless your child has the crazy rare one in a million disease... then I am just an ass.) Enough of this, back to the poop!

The green poop (according to both the Internet and poop charts--yes, they are out there, just Google newborn poop chart and see what you get) we believe is an allergy and my wife is pretty sure it is dairy based. God help her (she is a better person than me) since she has decided to cut all dairy out of her diet. I will say, that since she has stopped, the poop has gone to Dijon mustard color (and it was mucusy as well, but that cleared up too) so my wife was/is probably right (am I surprised?) I know that she really hopes that she is wrong, because she is really dying for some cheese, real half and half for her coffee, and lots of other dairy-based foods that I will not describe in detail. (after all, she does edit these posts for me so that would just be cruel.)

I know that the shit storm will eventually end and my son will start pooping normally. Normally will, however, be a double-edged sword. Less diapers, awesome! We will save some time, money and sanity.  But as the frequency of downloads decreases, the smell will start to increase. Right now all of our garbage cans are quickly filling up with dirty diapers, but there is no smell. Hooray! Like all storms, this one will die down and eventually end. I know my wife and I will get through it, as we are an excellent team and work well together, and besides, we have done it before. Though, to be honest, despite my whining, at least the poop does not have the range of his pee. After a couple of near misses, he finally got me this morning, a glancing blow on the hand. Could have been worse!

On doing it one last time!

I have been away from the Blog for a while so let's try to jump right in. My wife and I just had our second child and all I can say is... what the hell were we thinking? Do not think for a second that I regret the decision or that I in any way do not care for my shiny new son, but as I rapidly approach the 44th anniversary of escaping my mother's womb, I have to say I have a lot of concerns.

Let me state again that I am going to be 44 years old. (Wait, let's throw an exclamation point on that.) 44 years old! Now, I do not think that I am in any way some ancient relic fathering children (like Michael Douglas?) But being 43 right now, it does feel like I should have been out of this game a while ago. People I went to high school with are sending kids to college (some even have grand kids) and I am just starting out again with a newborn. But that is what you get when you get re-married later in life (and an attractive wife). 

To be honest, I feel fine now and my trepidation is not about the present. I sometimes find it hard to believe that I am in my forties. It is just I keep fast-forwarding in my head to 15 years in the future, seeing myself trying to play basketball with my kids, and being worried about throwing my hip out. I picture me cheering on my kids at a sporting event, waving my little four-legged walking stick with the tennis balls on the feet. When my daughter turns 18 years old, I will be 58 years old. That means I will be over 60 when my son turns 18. I know these are just numbers but my side of the family is not known for its longevity. My dad died at age 45, but the one thing I have on him is the fact that I have gone regularly to the doctor over the years and have been taking care of my health.

I know I am being ridiculous but these are the thoughts that I have. They do not weigh me down and I am not fixated on them, but they do sit at the back of my mind. Everyone says that kids will keep you young, and I do believe this, but this seems like it can only work for so long. It will get to the point where no matter how old you "feel," your body ages normally. You can only put it off for so long. I just want to be around long enough to see my kids grow up and be happy.  

Now that I have got my whining out, let me contradict everything I just wrote, because despite the bitching, I am very glad that we decided to have one more child. Part of this may be because my ex-wife decided to pick up and move to Virginia (me being in upstate New York, on the off chance that someone who doesn't know me personally actually reads this), so my three children from my first marriage, who were once a tornado of energy in my house every other weekend, are now just a twice a week phone call (this will be a complete other story for another time). The new baby has helped fill a large whole in my life that the other kids left when they moved. This isn't to say that my three-year-old daughter is chopped liver (if you enjoy that sort of thing), but the new baby has been a major distraction, especially with how much direct care he requires.

My three-year-old has always been special to me in that she was the first child that I had a direct hand in raising (and the first that I got to go through the entire pregnancy with). My first three children were adopted and as I have mentioned in other posts, my ex really treated me like the fourth child so I didn't really have a large hand in raising them (or at least I didn't feel that I did). After the divorce, she made an even greater effort at keeping me from interacting with the kids, but again, that is a whole different post. Now I have a new child to raise with a woman who values and respects me, which is amazing.

Also, it is very nice to have a matching set of kids. We got the boy and the girl now, so there is balance in the house. It will prove to be more expensive, as now we cannot take advantage of my daughter's hand-me-downs, though maybe I should use them anyway. No need to start asserting gender roles on him.

My daughter now has someone to grow up with as well. Being someone who grew up with a sibling that was close in age (my brother is one year older than me), I know the value of having a playmate throughout your life. (And of course, there will be no fighting or competition or anything negative like this... lol.) My three-year-old will also have someone to boss around, and with the older kids moved away, no one to boss her around. I think she might make out the best in this deal.

No matter how much I worry about the future, I will not let it affect the present. I now have a new beautiful baby boy that I will shower with love and attention--a brand new kid to try and turn into a powerful nerd like me, and yet another child to take care of me and my wife when we get older. Now that my wife has gotten her tubes tied, he is also the last child, and I'm okay with that (and so is my wife!)

On Disney and the Movies that Never End, Tangled Edition

I have very mixed feelings about this Walt Disney fellow. Not only did the man create, but also, because of his success/vision/financing(?), allow to be created, some of the greatest family movies and cartoons of all time. Disney, and now Pixar, are mighty companies, designed to delight children of all ages (and delight their shareholders as well). Disney owns theme parks, cruises, TV networks, Broadway shows, and so much more. They have even acquired two entities that I love: Marvel and Star Wars. Despite what I think of the company's marketing/merchandising machine and my concerns over what will happen to the my beloved Star Wars franchise, the most important thing for me right now is that my three-year-old daughter has been sucked into that machine.

It started when my wife and I decided to put on Cinderella for my youngest. My daughter has never been a huge TV watcher, primarily because we don't watch a ton of television. When she did watch TV, a lot of it was music based (i.e. Barney) and never any full-length movies. We put Cinderella on thinking she would just watch for 10 minutes, if that, and ask for something else or move on to some other activity. That girl sat through the entire film, eyes glued to the TV. She laughed, she asked pertinent questions and said "Oh no!" at the appropriate moments. My wife and I were stunned. And then came the words I dreaded to hear... words that brought back repressed memories from when my three oldest children were younger.. my daughter looked me in the eye and said "Can I watch that again?" Aaaaargh! It was starting!

"Can I watch it again?" How can children watch the same movie (or TV show) over and over again? I mean, what pleasure can they possibly get from it? Einstein once said that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. My daughter watches movies over and over again and somehow seems surprised that everything turns out all right in the end. She is only three, but still... she's insane, right?

Just as an aside, she did watch TV shows over and over but usually there were enough episodes in a season to keep it at least a little fresh. Also, as I mentioned above, when a show has a lot of music in it, the TV almost becomes more like a radio.

Unfortunately I find myself watching these same movies over and over again and then my insanity kicks in. No, I don't expect the outcomes to change but I start picking apart the movies, analyzing them and wondering things that are best left un-wondered. Some of you may be understanding exactly what I am saying, others may be scratching their heads wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, for the latter, let me show you what I am talking about.

My daughter's current obsession is Tangled (I know it should be Frozen, but hey, kudos to her for not jumping on the band wagon.) For the last month or so she has wanted to watch it in the mornings before going to day care and also when she gets home from daycare. She knows it so well she is quoting scenes, and singing along to most of the songs. I have watched the film over and over as well and I am left with all sorts of questions.

First off, I don't believe that anyone could be stuck in a tower for 18 years and never go outside. Especially when you have a big window overlooking your secret valley. Rapunzel let down her hair so her "mother" could come and go as she pleased yet she never, before her 18th birthday, lowered herself down to step on the ground. I don't care what kind of psychological abuse one uses on their hostage; it seems highly unlikely that someone would not, at some point even step a foot on the ground below the tower. This would slowly turn into a steady exploration of the valley, and then curiosity would take them outside the valley. Nope, not Rapunzel. She just stared out the window and pined.... I say bullshit!

Next, the movie tries to portray Mother Gothel as this evil woman who stole a baby for her own selfish designs (immortality). Yes, she did steal the child from its birth parents, and yes the primary motivation for the act was to keep her fountain of youth, but Rapunzel grew into a fairly intelligent, well-mannered and lovely woman. I feel some of her behavior (and art talent) could be attributed to birth, but a lot of her development must have been taught/learned. The only person to interact with Rapunzel was Mother Gothel. Therefore, there must have been a level of love that Gothel had for Rapunzel. She may have even reached the point where she thought of Rapunzel as her own daughter.

I think it is wrong to assume that there was nothing but selfishness and evilness behind the woman's actions (at least before the events of the movie). There must have been love of a sort between them. "Stockholm Syndrome", I hear you thinking; sure, maybe that would explain Rapunzel's side of it. After all, she did reach out a hand to try and catch her fake mother as she tumbled out of the window to her death. However, this doesn't explain why Rapunzel was not just locked in a room and ignored, except for "magical youth giving" time. Like I said, Mother Gothel must have developed some sort of love for Rapunzel.

Next, there is a series of little things that I noticed and feel the need to mention.

I know Rapunzel never wore shoes, so her feet must have toughened up a bit, but she was walking on stone floors and rugs in the tower. Running outside in a world full of rocks, twigs and other sharp foot-piercing stuff seems a bit far fetched. Yet Rapunzel puts on a huge dance number in the valley.

At one point during the movie, Flynn Rider and Maximus (the palace horse, who happens to be chasing Rider, who made off with the crown of a certain lost princess) fall from a tree into a very deep gorge. The fall is hundreds of feet yet they just land with an ooof! In real life, there would have been two shattered corpses on the valley floor.

In the bar scene, where Flynn and Rapunzel are hiding from a group of guards who are hot on their trail, Maximus enters the search and is practically a bloodhound. The horse sniffs out an entrance to a secret tunnel out of the bar in under 5 minutes. Yet in an earlier scene, Maximus is no more than two feet away from Flynn, who is blocked by a thin wall of vines, but doesn't detect the rogue. This almost annoys me as much as the Ring Wraith in Fellowship of the Ring. The foul beast is two feet from Frodo and can't find, sense or smell the ring. Hey Sauron, maybe these aren't the best candidates for a Ring recovery team! But, I digress...

Later in the film, when a group of the song and dance ruffians arrange a Flynn Rider rescue operation, the piano playing thug places Flynn on the end of a cart. Another one jumps off a second story landing (2 stories! Broken legs anyone?) onto the cart catapulting Flynn a tremendously large distance to land exactly on the back of Maximus. I am not even going to guess the distance both vertically or horizontally but, it is absolutely ridiculous. A Chinese circus act would have to train years to get that to work (including the death or dismemberment of countless acrobats) and these guys pull it off first try. Not friggin' likely.

After watching Tangled as many times as I have, I am also convinced that most of the royal guards are clones. The majority look exactly alike. And I also might add, they shoot as well as Storm/Clone Troopers from the Star Wars movies as well.

Let's jump right to the end, which I have to say was very reminiscent of Beauty and the Beast (hero gets stabbed in the back, villain dies by extreme gravity, and hero brought back from the brink with a tear from their beloved). Flynn, on climbing the tower to save Rapunzel, gets a knife to the back from Mother Gothel. Rapunzel agrees to stay with her fake mother (knowing that she is the lost princess) with no resistance, if Gothel lets her heal Flynn with her magic hair. In an act of supreme sacrifice, Flynn cuts Rapunzel's hair, freeing her from the control of her wicked abductor. All I have to say to this is... how stupid is Flynn Rider? The sacrifice is nice and all, but he could have cut Rapunzel's hair after she healed him. Nope, not Flynn. Maybe deep down inside he realizes he doesn't want to settle down and get married and figures this is the best way out. Probably not, but you never know!

Was I also the only one that thought that if Flynn wants to live forever, all he has to do is be a jerk to her (or marry her, that seems to make a lot of women cry)? Apparently her tears still have the magic healing power, since it was Rapunzel's tear falling on Flynn that healed him. If Flynn could bottle up those tears and force her to sing, he could stay young forever. And he wouldn't even have to use force--she obviously is susceptible to emotional control.... okay, that last bit is getting a bit dark, but it just helps bring home my point.

I have watched this film too many times. If the over-analyzing of the film wasn't enough, the fact that I find the songs popping into my head randomly throughout the week proves it. The sad thing is, is that this is just the beginning. Today it is Tangled, tomorrow it will be something new. A new movie will be placed on repeat. Then my daughter will not just want to watch the movie but she will want the bed sheets and the curtains and the cups and the play set and the dolls and the trading cards and on and on and on. I guess that is just one of the hardships we as parents have to bear, and to be honest, if this is one of the hardest, with all the shitty stuff that can happen to a child in the world today, I say "Let it go, Let it go, Can't hold it back anymore..." (Okay, that was from Frozen, but dammit, that is the movie she should be fixating on!)

On all these Damn Facebook Things

I have been Facebooking for several years now and often have discussions with non-Facebookers on the value of the service. People who don't Facebook bring up numerous arguments for why they do not participate.

Many people feel it is a security risk to put all your information out there for anyone to read. Nay nay I say (That was a little shout out to John Pinette---may he rest in peace). You have control over what you put on Facebook, just like anywhere else on the internet. So if you feel the need to share stuff that you don't want anyone else to see it, maybe you shouldn't put it on Facebook. Just saying...

Some people also tell me that they choose not to get on Facebook because they don't want to get sucked into its world. This is something I can understand. When I first started on Facebook I was obsessively playing games (in particular Mafia Wars) and constantly changing my status with riveting updates such as what I was eating, whether I was having a particularly challenging bowel movement and other even more interesting things. Apparently these constant status updates are what Twitter is for. I shouldn't make fun of Twitter, though. It would be nice to be interesting enough to have people actually care about every trivial thing that I was doing every minute of the day. Eventually, I got past this phase of hyper-Facebooking and just settled into using it to let family and friends know what is going on in my life (and to plug the Blog, of course). By the way, you can all stop sending me game requests. I'm done with them.

People have told me that Facebook is just stupid and pointless and I can't always disagree with them. There are things I really love about Facebook and things I absolutely abhor. It is a wonderful way to reach out and stay in contact with family and friends. When something terrible happens, it is so much easier to blast a post to the whole family as opposed to making individual phone calls. (Okay, there are always people you call. I would never post on Facebook about the passing of a loved one before calling the immediate family first. How crappy would that be? Status: "Mom Died today. And I had a burrito for lunch." <Picture of Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan with Burritos on their heads>)

Facebook is a great way to organize events and activities with your friends. My 25th High School reunion is in the works and I am trying to help, so I created a page for it on FB and only got about 17 people to join. Even though that was 17 people of about 40-ish (not the biggest school), I found myself getting annoyed. It would be son much more simple if the whole class were on Facebook. We could have everything organized in a couple of days. I actually had a friend (well, we're still friends so forget the past tense) who did not want to join so I created a fake Gmail account and then made a fake Facebook account for him, just so that I could have an easier communication system with my gaming group. He actually uses it now and it sure does make things easier for me.

But with the good comes the bad, unfortunately. Facebook has changed a lot since I started. Advertisements are taking more and more space. Ads are appearing in our feeds. Constant changes to the layout are annoying. Posts to other people's walls are showing up in my feed and sometimes it is something I don't think the writer is intending for other people to read (awkward!) Worst of all is what other people post.

I'm not saying everything that people post is bad. I have gotten a good laugh out of some things and have been educated on various subjects through articles my friends have shared. I enjoy seeing people on vacation (though I am often jealous, especially when the people are somewhere warm and sunny while I suffer through another cold winter's day in upstate New York), and I like seeing family photos. It is nice to keep track (not in a creepy, stalker way) of how everyone and their families are doing. It is heartbreaking to see people dealing with adversity, but it makes me feel closer to them, even though we may hardly ever talk or see each other (especially when so many of my friends are spread across the globe.) This all being said, there are plenty of things that people post that drive me crazy!

I hate when people share political stuff. Well, I should say, I hate when people post political stuff that I disagree with. Someday I will share all my political views, but until then, much like Donny and Marie were a little bit country and a little bit Rock and Roll, I am conservative on some things, and liberal on others. Whether you are a hard-core conservative or a hard-core liberal, I don't want see 20 posts a day, sharing articles that support your viewpoint. I will block your feed and I have blocked feeds from people because of it.

I also hate the "Like, Comment, or Share if you love/hate  <Fill in the Blank>" posts.  I don't care what the Blank is, whether it is Jesus, or your daughter/son, or Herpes, or GMO's, or Nickelback--I am not going to do it. This does not mean that I don't love/hate whatever the Blank is; it just not how I choose to show my support/aversion to something/someone. Along the same vein, I hate the passive aggressive "most of you probably won't share this" posts. Your right: I'm not going to re-post it. Maybe I should call it the psychic post.

Some people don't like Vague Booking, the time honored tradition of putting up a post, almost demanding someone to comment "is everything all right?" I personally have no problem with the practice. I don't usually do it, but can't swear that I have never done it. I think we all get to the point where we just want to blast out some frustration without telling everyone the whole story behind it. Besides, many of us have people on Facebook that are close friends and family, and some people whom we barely know. Usually the post is not that vague to the people in your inner circle. (And sometimes, the post is about one of the people in your "friends" list.)

I'm sure there are a lot of trends/fads that have risen and fallen during the time I've been Facebooking, There was/is Grumpy Cat, just to give an example, but the one that is currently driving me crazy is the stupid quizzes. The "What kind of <Fill in the Blank> are you?" ones. Oh my goodness. Enough! I don't care which member of the Partridge family you are or what toe you are. Stop! Stop! Stop! There is no way answering 6 simple questions can do much of anything, let alone give you great insight about yourself. I wish I could find it, but, I saw a post where someone famous took a quiz that they were in and didn't get themselves. It's stupid and ridiculous, so enough! And in case you were wondering...
I am....
Joey Gladstone (from Full House)
Artemis (from Always Sunny)
Andrea Zuckerman (BH 90210)
I'm destined to win the Amazing Race
Stu Pickles (from the Rugrats)
Dan Humphrey (from Gossip Girl)
Sara (from Orphan Black)
Ross (from Friends)
Apple Jack (from My Little Pony)
Rose Tyler (from Doctor Who)
The Office is the TV Workplace that is right for me
House Baelish (from Game of Thrones)
Eric (from True Blood)
Star's Hollow is the TV town I should live in
Yoda (from which 80's alien are you)
Maury Ballstein (from Zoolander)
The Bride (which bad ass Tarantino character)
John McClane (which 80's action hero)
Miracle Max (Princess Bride)
I am Divergent (Which faction are you)
The Beast is the Disney Prince that is my True Love
Kermit (which Muppet)
Ichabod Crane (which Johnny Depp character)
Iron Man (which Avenger)
Josh (which Clueless character)
Iago (which Disney Sidekick)
Mystique (which X-men character)
Gatsby Leo (which Leo DiCaprio character)
Ursula (which Disney villain)
Sulu (which Star Trek character)
Geordi La Forge (which Next Generation character)
Rex (which Toy Story character)
Luke Skywalker (which Star Wars Character)
Tiana (which Disney Princess)
Ron Weasley (which Harry Potter character)
Brick Tamland (which Anchorman newscaster)
A Hobbit (which magical Tolkein creature)
Haymitch (which Hunger Games character)
Princess Ella (which Movie Princess)
Tweedledum and Tweedledee (which Alice in Wonderland character)
Damian (which Mean Girl character)
Valley Girl Cage (which Nicolas Cage character)
Bertram Weeks (which Sandlot character)
Bane (which Batman Villain)
The Mandarin (which Marvel Movie Villain)
The 80's Fantasy World I should live in is Florin (Princess Bride)
Chunk (which Goonies Character)
Frodo (which Lord of the Rings character)
Alfalfa (which little rascal)
Chas Tenenbaum (which Royal blah blah)
Nala (Lion King character)
The Scarecrow (which Wizard of Oz character)
Ferris Bueller is my 80's Movie Boyfriend
Velociraptor (which Jurassic Park dino)
Anna (which Frozen character)
Super Speed is the Super Power that is right for me
28 Days Later is the Movie Plague that killed me
Anna (which Downton Abbey character)
Fall/Autumn (what season)
I will live to 106 years old
Pig (what farm animal)
Enlightened (what type of person)
Octopus (what ocean animal)
True Neutral (what alignment)
Impulsive (what one word describes you)
Serious/Creative (What personality)
Flirty (Ideal Clothing style)
American Apparel (what corporation)
Oldies (what music style)
Boxing (my fighting style)
Oyster Mushroom (what mushroom)
Orange (my aura color)
Hazelnut (what nut)
Seafood (what food)
Paul McCartney (which Beatle)   75
Smell of a Lilac Flower (what smell of spring)
Snake (what pet)
Barbados (what Caribbean Island)
Hamburger (what type of burger)
Couch (what furniture)
Thumb (which finger)
Jet Plane (what vehicle)
Star (what shape)
A Saint (what were you in a past life)
Storm Cloud (what cloud)
A Rubber Duck (what toy are you)
Flexible (what is your brain good at)
Low Key Fun (what kind of fun)
Judd Apatow (which director)
Ice Wine (what wine)
Passionate Kisser (what type of kisser)
George W. Bush (what president)
Black Sabbath (what classic rock band)
Loyal Best Friend (what type of best friend)
Thunder (are you thunder or lightning)
Pickup Truck (what type of car)
Daernerys Targaryen (what Game of Thrones character)
Chocolate Cupcake (what flavor of cupcake)
The Ghostly Hitchhiker (which Urban Legend)
Shao Yang Body (what is your Chinese Body Type)
Comedy (what movie genre)
Pablo Picaso (which artist should paint your portrait)

Ps. Bitstrip... not a fan.

On My Autobiography

As I have mentioned before in earlier posts, I listen to a lot of audio books at work. Because I borrow a lot of them from my sister, there is quite a bit of variety in my selection. If I had my own library, it would be mostly Sci-Fi and Fantasy. Because of my sister, I have delved into everything from The Hunger Games to Fifty Shades of Grey to Atlas Shrugged. I was recently thinking about some of the autobiographies I had come across in my listening: the first was Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good by Kevin Smith; second was American on Purpose by Craig Ferguson; and the third was Bossy Pants by Tina Fey. All were good books, and I enjoyed them very much, but I find autobiographies usually make me react in two ways.

Firstly, autobiographies give me brief spurts of creative energy: I get momentarily inspired and work furiously on a project for a week or so. Then my well runs dry, I lose focus (or life ends up running me over) and the project I was working on gets abandoned (until my next inspirational surge). I keep hoping I can ride one of these spurts of energy to greatness, but soon realize that success does not come instantaneously. The people who wrote these books tell tales of struggle and accomplishment and I seem to forget about those pesky struggling parts. There is also the sense of time that is missed. When Kevin Smith says that he worked hard to get the money, talent, equipment and the time to shoot his movie Clerks and it is told on two or three pages, one can lose sight of the fact that it was accomplished over many months, if not years. No one achieves fame or success overnight, unless their step dad is Bruce Jenner and they are "caught" on a sex tape,and then it's all reality shows and non-stop media coverage. (Hmmmm, a sex tape... yeah no, this will never happen!)

Secondly, I find that autobiographies make me feel absolutely pathetic. I read/listen to the author tell how they had a dream and then proceeded to make it happen. There were usually trials and tribulations along the way, but despite it all, they persevered. I think that I am supposed to be inspired and run out and try to make my dreams a reality, but it usually backfires and just makes me feel worse about my life.

Let me say before I go on, that I have few regrets in my life, and I am by no means unhappy with my life at the present. I have an amazing wife, awesome children and it seems that things are only getting better with each passing year. I can't even say that I regret my first marriage, although granted, it certainly wasn't the best time of my life; but I ended up adopting 3 awesome kids whom I love very much, so how could I could I ever say that I truly regretted it?

When I say these books make me feel worse about my life, I mean my professional life. I have always been a dreamer and that has manifested itself in many ways. I have always been interested in art. My mother told me that when I was in Kindergarten I drew a picture that the teacher had shown her of an Indian (I'm sorry, Native American) village, or something like that. The teacher was impressed by the details I put in the picture, including the blood dripping out of the arrow wounds of the little stick people.

As I got older I became a doodler and took a couple of art classes in high school, probably the mandatory ones. I don't remember any art teacher ever saying, "Hey John, that's pretty good," or giving me any other encouragement, so I certainly did not think of art as anything but a fun hobby. I would not give art a second thought until I was a sophomore in college, where I was bitten by the Walt Disney bug. That is the phrase that I apply to that delusional moment when you say to yourself, "Why, you can do anything you want in life, as long as you work hard and follow your dreams."

Maybe delusional is not a fair statement, some people know exactly what they want to do with their lives and doggedly pursue their dreams. Most people don't make it, but some do, and then write autobiographies about their accomplishments. For goodness sake, Justin Bieber has an autobiography, and he is only 20 years old.... isn't this a bit premature? He obviously knew what he wanted to do at an early age and went for it. To be honest, I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, and I am 43.

I started college with the intent on taking computer programming, because that seemed like it would be something that I could make some good money with later in life. After getting a 2.5 in my first semester class and a 2.0 (my lowest grade ever) in the second class, I decided I needed to shift my focus. That is when the Walt Disney bug actually bit me. I always enjoyed doodling as a kid, even tried to make some comic book characters (I still remember one of my heroes was Tsunami Man--though, with the disasters of the last few years, maybe that would not have been the greatest Superhero name.) so I thought I'd give art a shot. I did pretty well and my grades improved dramatically and I was actually enjoying my classes. I even made the Dean's List 3 of my last 4 semesters.

Then I graduated and got accepted into grad school at the Memphis College of Art in Memphis, Tennessee. Unfortunately, I got married before I started (I will tell this tale in detail at another time) and ended up dropping out halfway through the first semester. That was probably the last time I really did any art. There was a brief time when a good friend recruited me to help with a project that he started. I was very excited about it but the project ended up falling to the wayside. I really wasn't in a position to help that much; between a demanding wife and three active kids, free time was at a minimum. I got a few sketches to him but that was about it. Besides, for me, art is something that needs to be kept up with and one can't expect to not draw anything for a decade and jump right back into it. (I am happy to say that the work he did turned into his first novel. I have plugged it before and I will again: The Daedalus Incident by Michael J. Martinez. He has also turned out a novella called The Gravity of the Affair and book two of the series, The Enceladus Crisis, is coming out May 6th, Order it now on Amazon. He didn't even pay me for that plug!) So for now, the dream of becoming a great artist/illustrator has been set aside.

I have always loved stand up comedy as well. In high school I listened to Andrew Dice Clay, Sam Kinison, Eddie Murphy, Bill Cosby and whatever comedy albums I could get my hands on. I would dream about getting up on stage and performing, even going so far as writing some bits up. My classmates voted me class clown and everyone always complimented me on how funny I was. Unfortunately, I grew up in a small farm town in upstate New York and was nowhere near any comedy venues or open mic nights. Besides this, I was incredibly shy. Around people I was comfortable with, I could say whatever I wanted and act however I needed to in order to get a laugh. The thought of doing the same thing in front of strangers was terrifying.

When I got to college nothing really changed, except I had access to actual live comedy shows. The school had a comedy series and would regularly get comedians to perform at the school. I went to as many shows as I could, watching, taking in their acts, wishing I had the guts to do the same thing. I never did. We did have a little talent show for two years in International House, the place I resided for most of my college career. One year I sang a duet with my good friend Jalal, who sadly is no longer with us. We sang Ram it Down by Judas Priest, a capella. There was no real preparation--we just agreed to do it and read the lyrics off the cassette jacket, with fist hammering motions. It went over well and we got some good laughs. I cannot sing, which is why it was probably entertaining to watch.

The other year at the talent show I decided to show off my juggling skills. I talked while I was juggling and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I know it was just a little thing, but the adrenaline rush I got and the energy I got from the crowd was awesome. But, it was not enough to get me to try it again. Where the people in the autobiographies would have used the experience as a catalyst to their future careers, I just went on living, never trying to achieve more. Then I left school, got married, and just let the dream of becoming a stand up comedian fade away as well.

Another dream I have had (and still have) is becoming a writer. I know this may be a surprise, as you read my blog (that was sarcasm, by the way), but I would love to write something someday. My brain is constantly bombarded with story ideas and I have started numerous projects. Unfortunately, I pretty much blew off English classes in school, never having the slightest interest in writing until maybe the last 10 years or so.

English and writing were the furthest things from my mind when I was in college; I guess my brain has only so much dream capacity. When I got out of college and my other dreams seemed to be unattainable (not that they really were in actuality, I just wasn't mental/spiritually capable of making them happen-- in other words I was too much of a coward to take a chance), I started thinking about writing.

I frequently have had story ideas pop into my head. I think part of it comes from all the fantasy roleplaying I do. Constantly coming up with adventures to run my friends through really gets the creative juices flowing. For those unfamiliar with fantasy roleplaying, basically it is creating stories that your friends take an active part in. You create a story with an open plot and the players, who take on the roles of the protagonists, interact with the setting you have created and try to resolve the mystery/adventure/whatever the story is about.

I have actually written a book, but it currently resides in two one-subject notebooks, that I am now very slowly rewriting and getting into an electronic format. I have tried writing a couple of screenplays and have several movie ideas bouncing through my head which I hope someday to get down. This dream I haven't "abandoned" yet.

There are other projects I have started: I tried to develop a card game and often think of coming up with my own roleplaying game or system. But, this post is now getting waaaay too long, so I will not go into any other dreams I have had. Let me get back to the main topic--if you remember, it was about autobiographies--so I can wrap this up.

All I know is that I have been writing this blog since last May--believe me, I am stunned I haven't given up on it by now. It's amazing how much more you can achieve with a supportive wife. (And one who does understand how the English language works. I should publish a post that she hasn't edited and you will see how bad my grammar is.)

As I reread this blog, I realized that I did little more than whine about how I haven't really followed any of my dreams. All I have to say is, not yet! I haven't given up; I still have plenty of years to turn this around and I am going to do it! In fact, this post has nearly inspired me to write my own autobiography. Why should famous people have all the fun? Instead of tales of inspiration from those who have traveled the road to success, you can hear the tale of a chubby kid with low self-esteem and high hopes, who grew into a chubby guy with low self-esteem, working a dead-end job. A guy who found the courage to leave a bad marriage after 15 years and ended up reconnecting and marrying an old college friend he hadn't talked to in over seven years. A girl who makes him feel like his dreams are attainable and who is more of an inspiration than any book I have ever read or listened to. This, by the way, is just a cheap ploy to get her to continue editing my blog, but don't tell her that.