Wanna know an embarassin' lil factoid bout me?
Course you do.
When my mother was pregnant with me she wanted to name me.........Christopher Robin.
Yeah.
She wanted to name me after the guy that's friends with Winnie the Pooh, Eeyore, and Tigger too.
Dad stepped in and decided that might get me beat up a bit too often. He decided to name me Alejandro Rodriguez instead. (Yeah, that is my real name. I'll put it up here mostly 'cause the people that read this already know me.)
Do you know what that name means?
Defender of mankind, Son of the great king.
Helluva handle ain't it? I love that. It's a good name I think. Though it's not really mine, not exactly.
There are a lotta families that can trace their families back for centuries. They get all the papers to prove who they are and where they come from. I can't do that on my dad's side of the family. I know my father, I know my grandfather, and I've heard of a great-grandfather. Beyond that there's nuthin. Not a damn thing that I'm aware of. Like these Rodriguez people just appeared outta nowhere on the face of the earth.
My great-grandfather was born towards the beginning of the 20th century. There are no official papers I'm aware of that prove he existed. My father has seen one picture of him and heard a few stories about him. Apparently, he was 6'4"ish (Or at least tall enough to stand next to his horse for the picture with his elbow on it's back. You ever stand next to a horse? I have and that one came up to my shoulder.) with tanned skin and had red hair. He was s'posed to be Mexican but I've never seen any Mexican that looked like that. I'm 6' myself and have a few strands of red hair so maybe there's a ring of truth to that.
The way it was told to me, no one had ever seen him before he came ridin' into a small town on a horse. Like sumthin' out of a western. The stranger rides into town on an unfamiliar horse with an unfamilar face. He keeps to himself and isn't friendly with anyone. People know him by a name that most likely isn't his. "Rodriguez" is the name on his saddle and it's the name he gives but no one really believes it. (It was the only kind of I.D. the man had. Even if he had a paper one it wouldn't have done much to prove who he was. Dad found his I.D. from 1968 the other day and it was just a paper with a name and address. No picture or anything and he said half the information on it was wrong anyway.)
In this small town he met a girl and they got married and she gave birth to my grandfather. From what my grandfather has said, his father was a good man. He was stern and didn't talk much. He rarely talked about himself or his family. Practically never really. One day while the first Rodriguez was out in town there was some kind of dispute. I'm not sure what it was about. I don't know who was involved. What I do know is that another man's horse bucked and kicked my great-grandfather in his chest breaking' his ribs and puncturin' vital organs. He suffered a few minutes and died. It's not quite certain if this was done on purpose or not.
Years later, Dad did a bit of research and figured out there's a tribe of natives in the Colorado area that were bein' forced on to reservations about the time my great-grandfather would've been born. He suspects that our relative was much like ourselves and didn't like bein' told where he could and could not go. He may have high-tailed it outta the rez and went to see the country. Along the way he might've stolen the horse and saddle. He may have even killed for it. That would easily give him an excuse to not talk about himself.
Dad's theory was somewhat supported by a very odd happening when he was growin' up. He was with his aunt and uncle for the summer and they went to this Native American like craft fair or sumthin' like that on a reservation in Iowa. It was a place where you could go and see Natives do their thing in the ways of their culture. They'd dance, show off the traditional clothing, and cook foods. Well my father wandered away from his aunt and into a small shack where an old woman was makin' sumthin'. He could see the old woman's milky white eyes and knew she was clearly blind. Before he said anything to her she speaks, "I knew you would come back."
My dad of course was confused. He asked the woman what she was talkin' 'bout. She explained that he left his people years ago but would return as a great chief to lead them into greatness. She said his family was hidin' his true roots from him. My father was about 10 when this happened and hadn't heard anythin' about our possible heritage. He asked his aunt about it and she said the old woman was just crazy, that his family came from Mexico.
When he was 17 and had heard the stories I mentioned earlier he returned to the reservation only to find it desolate and empty. The old woman wasn't there. He never found out exactly what is true and what isn't about our family.
If I dug deep enough and liked technology more than I do (which isn't very much really) I could probably find out the truth about our family. I don't care to. I like that that section of my heritage is shrouded in mystery. To me it makes for an interestin' story and really no good would come of knowin' for sure. I either would find out that my great-grand father was a thief and killer or that we do in fact come from a long line of rather decent but unspectacular Mexicans. But if this is all uncertain it could be anything. It could be as the old woman said and there is some purpose my family is meant for or we could've just appeared outta nowhere when the red headed stranger rode into town and said his name was "Rodriguez."
The world is a big place and people think we know so much about it. We don't know anything. The universe is vast and mysterious. I like those mysteries. It's in those shadowy spots of our lives that there exists all the things that those who know better say don't exist. In these dark corners is love, magic, fear, danger, adventure, and discovery. I hope we never run out of mysteries to investgate and I hope sometimes we can just leave a few of them alone. Let the mystery be and we will always know a good scare and a bit of excitement. Life would be boring without it.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Yeller
A man much smarter than me once said courage ain't a lack of fear but the ability to do what you gotta while bein' afraid. Courage is an admirable quality but it's a rare find in a person. It's easy to claim to be brave. Anybody can say if there were a school shootin' or a hijackin' or some monster in the shadows they could be brave. When it comes down to it could anybody you know really do anything like that?
It's hard to say. Those things don't really happen a lot. I don't think you could really blame anyone for seekin' cover in a shootout or if some real life monster showed up. The real test of courage is in the everyday situations you do encounter.
Does a person have the courage to do what needs to be done? Does a fella have the courage to be a real man? Does a person have the strength of character to sacrifice themselves for the well bein' of others or for their own success? Everyone wants to be brave enough to do what it takes to make it through the day but problems in people's lives come from them or the people around them not havin' the courage to do what they need to.
There's a western movie you might've heard of based on a japanese film by Akira Kurisowa. The Japense black and white flick is called "Seven Samurai". American audiences might recognize it as "The Magnificent Seven".
There's a scene in "The Magnificent Seven" with Charlie Bronson and some kids. The movie is about seven gunfighters that come to a town of farmers to defend them. Charlie Bronson is admired by the boys in the town for his bravery and willingness to fight. The boys say their fathers are cowards because they won't fight. Charlie gets mad and spanks the boys sayin' that their daddys are braver than he is 'cause they don't fight one fight and then run, they fight the same battles everyday so their families can have food, clothes, and be taken care of.
He's right. It takes an insane amount of courage for a man to be a man and say "I'm gonna be resposible for everything you eat, wear, and sleep on. I'm gonna do everything I can to make you as comfortable as possible." It's stressful. There will always be fightin' whether it's 'cause you forgot an aniversary, or 'cause the kid doesn't understand why he has to do math homework, or 'cause bill collectors keep forgettin' they got the payment you sent last week.
If you can get past that fear and hang in there, bein' a father is a rewardin' thing. Too few men stick around to find out. It's a weak man, in my opinion, that leaves his responsibility all up to the mother of his children. I know marriages don't always work out but it's a coward that shucks his duty to his kids. Even standin' up to your faults and weaknesses from the beginnin' I'd say is preferred over that. Just say, "I'm not ready to be a daddy. I don't have what it takes. I am too weak and unreliable to take care of someone else for the rest of my life." Just say it if it's true. Get it out in the open and take responsibility for it. Make sure you don't have babies you can't care for. If you do have 'em better get yourself a plan too. What can you really do? What can you do to provide the best life for you and your child?
There's lots of people that show courage like that and it's rarely recognized. Everybody remembers the good cops, soldiers, nurses, doctors, and firefighters as they should. No doubt that all these people are courageous in tight spots and desperate situations. Do you recognize your parents as courageous for stickin' by you when you were actin' bad? Or feedin' and takin' care of you when you were a kid and unable to provide for yourself? Yeah, there's mother's and father's days but aside from that do you say thanks?
And how 'bout for all the friends and neighbors that look out for each other. All the people that ain't afraid of bein' themselves, cool or not. There's a lot of everyday courage that gets swept away like it's not even worth havin'. It's bein responsible. It's so expected and common it ain't courage anymore.
Maybe it's not a brave thing to do what's needed of you.
Maybe not.
But somebody has to do it. Somebody's gotta be a shepard. Somebody's gotta fend off the wolves. Even if those wolves are only hunger, bills, and lack of shelter.
A coward is someone that can do nuthin' but disappoint you. Is he there to pick you up after practice? No. Is he there to help you balance the check book? No. Is he ownin' up to his faults, takin' responsibility for 'em, and tryin' his best to do things right? No. Well ladies and gents, that bastard's a coward. He's yeller.
It's hard to say. Those things don't really happen a lot. I don't think you could really blame anyone for seekin' cover in a shootout or if some real life monster showed up. The real test of courage is in the everyday situations you do encounter.
Does a person have the courage to do what needs to be done? Does a fella have the courage to be a real man? Does a person have the strength of character to sacrifice themselves for the well bein' of others or for their own success? Everyone wants to be brave enough to do what it takes to make it through the day but problems in people's lives come from them or the people around them not havin' the courage to do what they need to.
There's a western movie you might've heard of based on a japanese film by Akira Kurisowa. The Japense black and white flick is called "Seven Samurai". American audiences might recognize it as "The Magnificent Seven".
There's a scene in "The Magnificent Seven" with Charlie Bronson and some kids. The movie is about seven gunfighters that come to a town of farmers to defend them. Charlie Bronson is admired by the boys in the town for his bravery and willingness to fight. The boys say their fathers are cowards because they won't fight. Charlie gets mad and spanks the boys sayin' that their daddys are braver than he is 'cause they don't fight one fight and then run, they fight the same battles everyday so their families can have food, clothes, and be taken care of.
He's right. It takes an insane amount of courage for a man to be a man and say "I'm gonna be resposible for everything you eat, wear, and sleep on. I'm gonna do everything I can to make you as comfortable as possible." It's stressful. There will always be fightin' whether it's 'cause you forgot an aniversary, or 'cause the kid doesn't understand why he has to do math homework, or 'cause bill collectors keep forgettin' they got the payment you sent last week.
If you can get past that fear and hang in there, bein' a father is a rewardin' thing. Too few men stick around to find out. It's a weak man, in my opinion, that leaves his responsibility all up to the mother of his children. I know marriages don't always work out but it's a coward that shucks his duty to his kids. Even standin' up to your faults and weaknesses from the beginnin' I'd say is preferred over that. Just say, "I'm not ready to be a daddy. I don't have what it takes. I am too weak and unreliable to take care of someone else for the rest of my life." Just say it if it's true. Get it out in the open and take responsibility for it. Make sure you don't have babies you can't care for. If you do have 'em better get yourself a plan too. What can you really do? What can you do to provide the best life for you and your child?
There's lots of people that show courage like that and it's rarely recognized. Everybody remembers the good cops, soldiers, nurses, doctors, and firefighters as they should. No doubt that all these people are courageous in tight spots and desperate situations. Do you recognize your parents as courageous for stickin' by you when you were actin' bad? Or feedin' and takin' care of you when you were a kid and unable to provide for yourself? Yeah, there's mother's and father's days but aside from that do you say thanks?
And how 'bout for all the friends and neighbors that look out for each other. All the people that ain't afraid of bein' themselves, cool or not. There's a lot of everyday courage that gets swept away like it's not even worth havin'. It's bein responsible. It's so expected and common it ain't courage anymore.
Maybe it's not a brave thing to do what's needed of you.
Maybe not.
But somebody has to do it. Somebody's gotta be a shepard. Somebody's gotta fend off the wolves. Even if those wolves are only hunger, bills, and lack of shelter.
A coward is someone that can do nuthin' but disappoint you. Is he there to pick you up after practice? No. Is he there to help you balance the check book? No. Is he ownin' up to his faults, takin' responsibility for 'em, and tryin' his best to do things right? No. Well ladies and gents, that bastard's a coward. He's yeller.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Self-Inflicted
You ever see those homeless people on the side of the road lookin' for change? Of course you have. Everybody has 'em somewhere in their town. How do you think they got there? If there is a God and he has a plan for everyone, why is it that his plan for these people appears to be to suffer?
I don't know a thing about God. I never seen him, I never met the guy. I couldn't tell you if He is what the Bible says. But I have never believed that if He is that kind and loving God people say he is, that He would write such cruel existences for people.
Children die young. Good people are killed in horrible ways. Bad people go unpunished. Poor people struggle their entire live. Rich people never learn the value of a dollar. It makes no sense to me that a plan could be laid for these people to walk these paths.
If destinies were written it would make all the sense in the world to me for everyone to get along and for peace to be the norm. Wars are fought all throughout history. People kill each other over the stupidest damned things. That can't be part of the plan.
I could never accept that much blood shed and wrong doing in my heart as a necessary evil. If there is a necessary evil it is only the evil that each of us is born with. That's the evil we either control or let control us. The suffering of mankind is self-inflicted. We have no one but ourselves to blame for our short-comings. We are all born with a capacity for evil and wrong doin'. I've tried my best to control that part of me and keep it confined to the darkest places in my heart. I have hated and I am capable of evil deeds. Rather than act on these deeds, I force them down in to the back of my mind. I let the hate go away with the sunset. No good could ever come from it. I decided such doin's are not what would make my destiny. I decided that. No one else.
I am a firm believer that people write these destinies for themselves. It is up to every individual person to make his choices every day. You choose to dress a certain way, you choose to eat what you eat, you choose to act like you do. Because you can choose this and because life is very much unfair I don't see how it could work any other way.
I am my own man. I've made all my decisions for myself. In the end whether I am a success or failure it will only be my own fault. I can blame no god, person, or obstacle. Nothing is impossible for me. I am the master of my own destiny.
I believe you are too.
I don't know a thing about God. I never seen him, I never met the guy. I couldn't tell you if He is what the Bible says. But I have never believed that if He is that kind and loving God people say he is, that He would write such cruel existences for people.
Children die young. Good people are killed in horrible ways. Bad people go unpunished. Poor people struggle their entire live. Rich people never learn the value of a dollar. It makes no sense to me that a plan could be laid for these people to walk these paths.
If destinies were written it would make all the sense in the world to me for everyone to get along and for peace to be the norm. Wars are fought all throughout history. People kill each other over the stupidest damned things. That can't be part of the plan.
I could never accept that much blood shed and wrong doing in my heart as a necessary evil. If there is a necessary evil it is only the evil that each of us is born with. That's the evil we either control or let control us. The suffering of mankind is self-inflicted. We have no one but ourselves to blame for our short-comings. We are all born with a capacity for evil and wrong doin'. I've tried my best to control that part of me and keep it confined to the darkest places in my heart. I have hated and I am capable of evil deeds. Rather than act on these deeds, I force them down in to the back of my mind. I let the hate go away with the sunset. No good could ever come from it. I decided such doin's are not what would make my destiny. I decided that. No one else.
I am a firm believer that people write these destinies for themselves. It is up to every individual person to make his choices every day. You choose to dress a certain way, you choose to eat what you eat, you choose to act like you do. Because you can choose this and because life is very much unfair I don't see how it could work any other way.
I am my own man. I've made all my decisions for myself. In the end whether I am a success or failure it will only be my own fault. I can blame no god, person, or obstacle. Nothing is impossible for me. I am the master of my own destiny.
I believe you are too.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Colors
I don't understand what's so hard about treatin' people like people.
The other day, about 4:30 in the afternoon I got a phone call. I was just sittin' here workin' on my last blog and then the phone rang.
I answered and this is what I heard, "I hate all you fuckin' wetbacks I wish you'd all go back to your own fuckin' country."
"Yeah, well, you can go to hell."I said angrily. I heard a girl in the background laughin' as I hung up.
The other day, about 4:30 in the afternoon I got a phone call. I was just sittin' here workin' on my last blog and then the phone rang.
I answered and this is what I heard, "I hate all you fuckin' wetbacks I wish you'd all go back to your own fuckin' country."
"Yeah, well, you can go to hell."I said angrily. I heard a girl in the background laughin' as I hung up.
I am Mexican-American. My father was born in Texas. My mother came to this country legally and recently became a citizen of the U.S. Both of them are hard-working and speak english. I am cut of the same cloth. I am proud of my heritage. I am proud to have been born in Texas. I am proud of who and what I am. If you got an issue with any of that you can kiss my ass.
Everyone should be proud of their heritage. We should all be able to wear our traditonal clothing, or eat our traditional food, or worship our gods all without being persecuted. I love the differences of people. I like that there are people in the world the see things differently than I do. Revolutionary ideas come from the differences in the way people think. We'd all do everything exactly the same and the world would be a boring place if we didn't have people of different cultures, colors, and philosophies. It's so amazing to me to talk to people that have worked and studied hard to get to the U.S. in an attempt to find success. I wish anyone that works for it and is deserving of it any success they desire.
I have little tolerance for those people that can't appreciate the differences that make this world wonderful. Can't make a rainbow using only one color. There are so many other things to do with your time than encouraging ignorance. Ignorance should not be seen as any kinda cool. Is it cool that a person can't do math? Is it cool if they have no class? Is it cool if the encourage ignorant ideas? NO to all of that. I don't think people are ever too old to learn anything. It's only a person's own closed mindedness that prevents them from learnin'.
The true colors of a person's character is what you should judge them on. We've all been taught this for the last thirty years but still some think it's ok to discriminate. I don't understand it. I don't think I ever will. People are just people. I get not likin' liars, thieves, and murderers but those are deeds not colors. Not likin' a person 'cause he's darker or lighter skinned than you, or 'cause his hair is different, or 'cause he's from a different place is all just ignorant. These people are born different and they can't help that. It's only chance that stops any man from bein' a brother to you. Even that doesn't have to be. If you accept a man with open arms and respect him he will be your brother.
Just treat each other with respect. Try to understand each other. You don't have to like everybody you meet but I don't think it's too much to ask everybody to act like civilized people.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The Woman Holdin' the Ladder
My mother gets on my nerves most days.
I love my mother very much.
But she gets on my nerves.
I work with her. We sit in the same office across the room from each other forty hours a week. I've been involved in this business since I was ten. Dad would take me on jobs and I'd do what I could to help. I spent my summers growin' up diggin trenches, layin' pipe for septic systems, under kitchen sinks, and unstopping commodes. Lotta people don't even like cleanin' their own toilets let alone diggin' around in someone else's.
In the last year and a half, I've been runnin' the office with my mother. Someone calls and it's our job to get customer information. She knows this, I know this, it's not hard but it's about seventy percent of what we do. Still, everytime I answer the phone she feels the need to tell me exactly what to do and how to do it.
No man needs anyone else keepin' a leash on him like that.
I don't need anyone tellin' me how to dress, comb my hair, walk, talk, or otherwise crticizin' my every move. My mother is one to do that kind of thing. She tells me she doesn't like that I stay out til midnight or later. She doesn't like the way I drive. She thinks I should take business classes instead of English. Nothin' I do is ever good enough. I quit tryin' to make her happy a long time ago because I don't believe I could ever do it.
I know she does these things out of love.
There is no question in my mind that she's lookin' out for me in her own way. She wants me to be educated in business so that whatever industry I'm in I will be a good business man. She wants to dress me up so I look nice. She wants me home early so she knows I'm safe. (Yeah, I'm 24 and still livin at home with my momma.) She loves me. I know she does but she has her own stubborn way of showin' it and tryin' to make me a better man. At least a better man than my sister's father anyway.
My mother was born in Coahuila, Mexico in May of 1952. She was the middle child among her eight siblings. She helped raise those that came behind her. She wound up dropping out of school after second grade. (Think about this for a minute, how much did you know after second grade? How to read a few words? Simple math? How to cut paper without cuttin' your fingers off? That's about it really.)
She worked the majority of her young life doin' chores, changin' diapers, cookin' and cleanin'. When she was about eighteen her family was as poor as they'd ever been. She couldn't find the kind of work that would really do her family any good. So, she filled out the proper paperwork, paid the fees, waited the long waits, stood in the long lines, and got her green card.
She came to America, alone, with no formal education, with only the hope of finding work to send back to her family. She didn't speak very good english or have nice clothes but she found herself an apartment and a job cleaning houses for wealthy families. She started working as many hours as she could to provide for herself and for her family.
She got by alright. She found a man to date and love. She thought he was a good man and she stayed with him for a while. The two fought as is common for any two people in a relationship. She was still fond of him though. The two wound up having a baby together. A daughter, my older sister.
My mother couldn't be happier. She was soon ready to bring her new born baby girl home. The man saw my mother in front of the hospital as he drove up to give her a ride. She got in and he saw the baby and I guess a fear must've taken over him. Can you magine that, bein' afraid of a tiny, little, pink, and mushy-faced girl maybe two days old?
He was. He grabbed that mushy-faced little girl and dropped her out of the car on to the sidewalk. He told my mother that he would not have anything to do with a baby. She didn't give a damn about him after that. She left the car to pick up her baby girl and make a better life for themselves as he drove away.
They were already better off without him in their lives.
By now, my aunt had come to America and the two sisters moved in together. They lived in Houston for a while and my sister grew up fairly happy. She would go along with our mother to clean the wealthy family's home and get to enjoy a few luxuries even if only for a few hours.
Now that my mother only had one home to clean she was left responsible for the repairs as well. Plumber's were called in to fix a leak under a sink. Well, one of these plumber's had an eye for beauty. He spotted it as my mother was bent over under the sink to try and show him where the leak was. (Romantic, right?)
This plumber wound up leavin' a tool behind on purpose so he'd have an excuse to go back and talk to the pretty house keeper. She called the plumbing company and the plumber went back. He got his tool back and then asked for a phone number in some clever way I'm sure. (The man's always got sumthin' clever to say.)
He wasn't much of anythin' at the time really. He was livin' with my uncle and his wife at the time. He didn't have any money. He was highly depressed and as I understand it somewhat suicidal. He spent his whole life up until then makin' what he saw as mistakes. He was always fightin', always drunk, he had two kids he could never see, and his ex-wives hated him. He was goin' on thirty years and didn't see much reason to keep goin'.
But he thought she was pretty and it gave him a little hope when he got her phone number. He would call and ask out my mother, she would say no. She'd been hurt, and she knew a enough about him to know he was trouble. She didn't need any more of that for her or her daughter.
One day my mother was stuck out in the rain somewhere. She tried callin' her sister but there was no answer. (There was a time before cell phones boys and girls, I know that sounds like a horror movie now but back then they had pay phones and land lines.) She had no one else to call...except that plumber who had had enough of bein' turned down by her at this point. She called his plumbing company and they relayed the message through his C.B. radio. (That's just ancient technology, kids.) Since, he was in the area and off duty he went to pick her up. He gave her a ride home and asked her out one more time. She said yes.
They fell in love, got married, and had a baby. (Me, of course.) My father vowed to do everything he could to make all of our lives better and make this marriage work. He adopted my sister and has always treated her as his own. My parents raised me to be a good man. He opened up a plumbing business with my mother supporting him. She worked answering his phone and taking messages and was still cleaning that wealthy family's home for extra money.
His promise to her during this finincially troubling time was "If you hold the ladder, Baby, I'll climb it to the top." And together they did. She's been his support. He's been her protector.
My father told me that my mother is responsible for saving his life. That she was the one that made him believe in a life worth livin'. He said to me with tears in his eyes that if anything ever happened to that woman he loved, that he would get in that truck of his and drive off never to be seen again. He said he couldn't have done anything without her and wouldn't be able to if he lost her.
My mother's harsh life has made her a hard woman to live with. It's also made her strong, tough, and street smart. She has had to struggle all her life to make life better for the ones she loves. She struggles for me, because she loves me.
My mother gets on my nerves most days but I'm glad I get to see her everyday and that she cares about me like she does. I love her very much.
I love my mother very much.
But she gets on my nerves.
I work with her. We sit in the same office across the room from each other forty hours a week. I've been involved in this business since I was ten. Dad would take me on jobs and I'd do what I could to help. I spent my summers growin' up diggin trenches, layin' pipe for septic systems, under kitchen sinks, and unstopping commodes. Lotta people don't even like cleanin' their own toilets let alone diggin' around in someone else's.
In the last year and a half, I've been runnin' the office with my mother. Someone calls and it's our job to get customer information. She knows this, I know this, it's not hard but it's about seventy percent of what we do. Still, everytime I answer the phone she feels the need to tell me exactly what to do and how to do it.
No man needs anyone else keepin' a leash on him like that.
I don't need anyone tellin' me how to dress, comb my hair, walk, talk, or otherwise crticizin' my every move. My mother is one to do that kind of thing. She tells me she doesn't like that I stay out til midnight or later. She doesn't like the way I drive. She thinks I should take business classes instead of English. Nothin' I do is ever good enough. I quit tryin' to make her happy a long time ago because I don't believe I could ever do it.
I know she does these things out of love.
There is no question in my mind that she's lookin' out for me in her own way. She wants me to be educated in business so that whatever industry I'm in I will be a good business man. She wants to dress me up so I look nice. She wants me home early so she knows I'm safe. (Yeah, I'm 24 and still livin at home with my momma.) She loves me. I know she does but she has her own stubborn way of showin' it and tryin' to make me a better man. At least a better man than my sister's father anyway.
My mother was born in Coahuila, Mexico in May of 1952. She was the middle child among her eight siblings. She helped raise those that came behind her. She wound up dropping out of school after second grade. (Think about this for a minute, how much did you know after second grade? How to read a few words? Simple math? How to cut paper without cuttin' your fingers off? That's about it really.)
She worked the majority of her young life doin' chores, changin' diapers, cookin' and cleanin'. When she was about eighteen her family was as poor as they'd ever been. She couldn't find the kind of work that would really do her family any good. So, she filled out the proper paperwork, paid the fees, waited the long waits, stood in the long lines, and got her green card.
She came to America, alone, with no formal education, with only the hope of finding work to send back to her family. She didn't speak very good english or have nice clothes but she found herself an apartment and a job cleaning houses for wealthy families. She started working as many hours as she could to provide for herself and for her family.
She got by alright. She found a man to date and love. She thought he was a good man and she stayed with him for a while. The two fought as is common for any two people in a relationship. She was still fond of him though. The two wound up having a baby together. A daughter, my older sister.
My mother couldn't be happier. She was soon ready to bring her new born baby girl home. The man saw my mother in front of the hospital as he drove up to give her a ride. She got in and he saw the baby and I guess a fear must've taken over him. Can you magine that, bein' afraid of a tiny, little, pink, and mushy-faced girl maybe two days old?
He was. He grabbed that mushy-faced little girl and dropped her out of the car on to the sidewalk. He told my mother that he would not have anything to do with a baby. She didn't give a damn about him after that. She left the car to pick up her baby girl and make a better life for themselves as he drove away.
They were already better off without him in their lives.
By now, my aunt had come to America and the two sisters moved in together. They lived in Houston for a while and my sister grew up fairly happy. She would go along with our mother to clean the wealthy family's home and get to enjoy a few luxuries even if only for a few hours.
Now that my mother only had one home to clean she was left responsible for the repairs as well. Plumber's were called in to fix a leak under a sink. Well, one of these plumber's had an eye for beauty. He spotted it as my mother was bent over under the sink to try and show him where the leak was. (Romantic, right?)
This plumber wound up leavin' a tool behind on purpose so he'd have an excuse to go back and talk to the pretty house keeper. She called the plumbing company and the plumber went back. He got his tool back and then asked for a phone number in some clever way I'm sure. (The man's always got sumthin' clever to say.)
He wasn't much of anythin' at the time really. He was livin' with my uncle and his wife at the time. He didn't have any money. He was highly depressed and as I understand it somewhat suicidal. He spent his whole life up until then makin' what he saw as mistakes. He was always fightin', always drunk, he had two kids he could never see, and his ex-wives hated him. He was goin' on thirty years and didn't see much reason to keep goin'.
But he thought she was pretty and it gave him a little hope when he got her phone number. He would call and ask out my mother, she would say no. She'd been hurt, and she knew a enough about him to know he was trouble. She didn't need any more of that for her or her daughter.
One day my mother was stuck out in the rain somewhere. She tried callin' her sister but there was no answer. (There was a time before cell phones boys and girls, I know that sounds like a horror movie now but back then they had pay phones and land lines.) She had no one else to call...except that plumber who had had enough of bein' turned down by her at this point. She called his plumbing company and they relayed the message through his C.B. radio. (That's just ancient technology, kids.) Since, he was in the area and off duty he went to pick her up. He gave her a ride home and asked her out one more time. She said yes.
They fell in love, got married, and had a baby. (Me, of course.) My father vowed to do everything he could to make all of our lives better and make this marriage work. He adopted my sister and has always treated her as his own. My parents raised me to be a good man. He opened up a plumbing business with my mother supporting him. She worked answering his phone and taking messages and was still cleaning that wealthy family's home for extra money.
His promise to her during this finincially troubling time was "If you hold the ladder, Baby, I'll climb it to the top." And together they did. She's been his support. He's been her protector.
My father told me that my mother is responsible for saving his life. That she was the one that made him believe in a life worth livin'. He said to me with tears in his eyes that if anything ever happened to that woman he loved, that he would get in that truck of his and drive off never to be seen again. He said he couldn't have done anything without her and wouldn't be able to if he lost her.
My mother's harsh life has made her a hard woman to live with. It's also made her strong, tough, and street smart. She has had to struggle all her life to make life better for the ones she loves. She struggles for me, because she loves me.
My mother gets on my nerves most days but I'm glad I get to see her everyday and that she cares about me like she does. I love her very much.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Today Will Be A Good Day
Nothing in this world lasts forever. Not the good, not the bad. That's just life.
Today can be a good day if you let it. I know the world ain't perfect. I know it's not fair. I know that problems can pile up on you like you're bein' buried alive. The world is a scary place and things can go bad at any time. But things can get better for you at any time too.
There's no fight you can't overcome with a lil perseverence and the right plan. I used to box. I learned how to fight and how to think. You gotta prepare yourself for a fight. You have to protect yourself from any hurt that might come your way. You have to train to have the right tools to fight. You need a strategy to win a challenging fight. Most importantly you gotta have the fire inside of you it takes to win a fight. That fire comes from a controlled combination of fear, anger, and the desire to change your situation.
All these things I've learned about fightin' have helped me in my life. You have issues you gotta have a plan to deal with them. Are you gonna save money to get outta debt? Are you gonna work out to stay fit? Are you gonna spend more time studyin' to get better grades? You gotta protect yourself from what can go wrong. Always have a back up plan, 'cause things will always go wrong. Nuthin' ever works out perfectly. And if you gotta goal in mind you need to stay focused to get to that goal. Don't let all the things that go wrong, or a little bit of progress stop you from gettin' exactly what you want. A lot of people give up halfway through 'cause things get too tough. You ever hear 'bout the guy that was swimmin' across the lake? He gets half way across when he got tired so he swam back. Doesn't make sense to start sumthin' and not finish it when you've gotten so far.
Today will be a good day, if you let it. You're awake and you're alive. That's all you need to make you're situation better. Let the warmth of the sun in your soul. Breathe in the strength of the universe. Everything is always in flux. What's bad now will get better. Know that things are gonna be tough. Know that you got what it takes to make things better. You ain't a moron, you can learn how to do what you need to do. You can ask for help without bein' weak. You can do more than you think. Push yourself. Get off your ass and get what you deserve. If you want it and you're tryin' your best to get it then you deserve it. Even if life isn't fair enough to let you have it's better to try and fail than to say you never even made the effort. Never ever give up.
The problems in your life are never permanent. This life is always changin'. You can't hold on to goodness or badness forever. That's what gives the universe it's balance. As long as you're alive there's a fight to be had. Never surrender to it. There's nuthin' better than takin' a couple of bad hits and givin' a few good ones right back, knowin the fight is a long way from over but at least you're a contender.
Go out and get your good day. You deserve it.
I love those Rocky movies 'cause you watch 'em and you feel like you can take on the world. This is from "Rocky Balboa". It's a lil clip I love. I think Rocky says it best.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1tXhJniSEc
Today can be a good day if you let it. I know the world ain't perfect. I know it's not fair. I know that problems can pile up on you like you're bein' buried alive. The world is a scary place and things can go bad at any time. But things can get better for you at any time too.
There's no fight you can't overcome with a lil perseverence and the right plan. I used to box. I learned how to fight and how to think. You gotta prepare yourself for a fight. You have to protect yourself from any hurt that might come your way. You have to train to have the right tools to fight. You need a strategy to win a challenging fight. Most importantly you gotta have the fire inside of you it takes to win a fight. That fire comes from a controlled combination of fear, anger, and the desire to change your situation.
All these things I've learned about fightin' have helped me in my life. You have issues you gotta have a plan to deal with them. Are you gonna save money to get outta debt? Are you gonna work out to stay fit? Are you gonna spend more time studyin' to get better grades? You gotta protect yourself from what can go wrong. Always have a back up plan, 'cause things will always go wrong. Nuthin' ever works out perfectly. And if you gotta goal in mind you need to stay focused to get to that goal. Don't let all the things that go wrong, or a little bit of progress stop you from gettin' exactly what you want. A lot of people give up halfway through 'cause things get too tough. You ever hear 'bout the guy that was swimmin' across the lake? He gets half way across when he got tired so he swam back. Doesn't make sense to start sumthin' and not finish it when you've gotten so far.
Today will be a good day, if you let it. You're awake and you're alive. That's all you need to make you're situation better. Let the warmth of the sun in your soul. Breathe in the strength of the universe. Everything is always in flux. What's bad now will get better. Know that things are gonna be tough. Know that you got what it takes to make things better. You ain't a moron, you can learn how to do what you need to do. You can ask for help without bein' weak. You can do more than you think. Push yourself. Get off your ass and get what you deserve. If you want it and you're tryin' your best to get it then you deserve it. Even if life isn't fair enough to let you have it's better to try and fail than to say you never even made the effort. Never ever give up.
The problems in your life are never permanent. This life is always changin'. You can't hold on to goodness or badness forever. That's what gives the universe it's balance. As long as you're alive there's a fight to be had. Never surrender to it. There's nuthin' better than takin' a couple of bad hits and givin' a few good ones right back, knowin the fight is a long way from over but at least you're a contender.
Go out and get your good day. You deserve it.
I love those Rocky movies 'cause you watch 'em and you feel like you can take on the world. This is from "Rocky Balboa". It's a lil clip I love. I think Rocky says it best.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1tXhJniSEc
Friday, September 18, 2009
Every Girl a Princess
Have you ever been fortunate enough to be on a date with a gal, and you look up and wonder how the hell did I get lucky enough for her to agree to this?
I've been lucky enough to think that a few times. I've had several wonderful women in my life. I do believe I've been in love before. I know I've been foolish with that word as well. On a rare occasion, I've found a girl that claimed to love me. I've been very lucky and I'm grateful for the women I've known. At the very least I've learned sumthin' from each one.
Women are possibly the most wonderful things ever to walk the face of the earth. Every one of them different from the last. Every one unique in her own way. Every one beautiful, wonderful, and magical in one way or another. They all will do a man wrong and every last one will have a man fall so deeply in love with her he'll do all kinds of foolish things for her. Those might even be the same man.
That happens often enough to give women the reputation of bein' impure by nature. You girls know it. Every thing you do is right, and every thing "That Bitch" does makes her a "whore" or "prude" or "bitchy" or whatever. Buddhists have taken note of it. They say since a woman is of an impure nature she will always be ranked below a Buddhist monk even if she's been a priestess (I guess that's the female alternative to monk) for ten years and he joined yesterday. (Though modern Buddhists have changed this bit.)
Regardless of the nature of a woman, I've always been of the philosophy that every girl is a princess and should be treated as such. It's the way I'm made. It's part of the philosophy that's burned into my bones.
I've been the subject of joshin' from time to time on account of I have shown few discriminations in the women I court. I do not treat women differently based on physical features. There ain't much reason too. If you look closely enough at any woman there's somethin' worth lovin' in every one of them. It may be the eyes that get you on one, or the hips on another, or the jokes another tells, or the way one of them smiles when she's nervous. There is sumthin' about every girl that is worth carin' for.
Not all women are aware of this. There are girls in the world that think that they aren't worth lovin'. These girls believe that 'cause they got a lil heft to 'em, or freckles, or a scar, or a crooked tooth, or whatever it may be for any particular girl, that they need to fix that before someone will love them.
That just ain't true. It's a shame that anyone would ever think such a thing. I know with all the models in magazines, the images on T.V., and how little criticism us guys get for bein' outta shape, it's easy to feel like you ain't good enough for somebody. But you are. Everybody deserves love.
You girls deserve somebody to love you for you. All your quirks and imperfections are what make you girls as wonderful as anything ever to see the light of day. You are all princesses and deserve to be treated like you are. Never settle for anything less than a man. A real man that is. A real man that'll hold doors open for you, give you gifts from time to time, pay for dinner, and not put up with anyone (least of all himself) showin' you any disrespect.
In my time I've seen far too many women puttin' up with a useless man's guff. They hit women, they neglect 'em, drink til their mean, lie, cheat and steal. Those kind of men aren't any good to anybody. It's usually best to leave those fellas alone.
Now bein' a princess is a double edged sword. In my opinion, a woman should act like a princess if she expects to be treated like one. She should carry herself with some class, show herself some respect if she wants me to treat her with any. It doesn't take much but a girl that stays dirty, acts trashy, and doesn't show others any respect ain't deservin' of bein' a princess. Bein' a princess doesn't mean that you shouldn't have to work hard or that you should be waited on hand and foot. Any good leader (which is what royalty is, it means bein' in a leadership role you were born into) knows that a good leader does not disrespect her subordinates. Treat them fairly and they will treat you fairly.
One day I will have a child. She might be a girl. My daughter will be treated as a princess, just like her mother. She will grow up knowin' she's worth lovin'. She'll have respect for herself and others. She will not settle for anything less than what is deserving for herself and those she cares about. She will know her worth. When she finds her prince, I won't have to kill him. She would've picked a good one that treats her like her daddy would. 'Cause I know I won't be around forever and I'll need somebody to take care of her for me.
I don't think my girl should settle for anything less that what she really deserves.
I hope none of you girls ever do.
I hope I never give a girl any less than she deserves.
You are all princesses. Know it. Act like it. Demand that others treat you as such.
I've been lucky enough to think that a few times. I've had several wonderful women in my life. I do believe I've been in love before. I know I've been foolish with that word as well. On a rare occasion, I've found a girl that claimed to love me. I've been very lucky and I'm grateful for the women I've known. At the very least I've learned sumthin' from each one.
Women are possibly the most wonderful things ever to walk the face of the earth. Every one of them different from the last. Every one unique in her own way. Every one beautiful, wonderful, and magical in one way or another. They all will do a man wrong and every last one will have a man fall so deeply in love with her he'll do all kinds of foolish things for her. Those might even be the same man.
That happens often enough to give women the reputation of bein' impure by nature. You girls know it. Every thing you do is right, and every thing "That Bitch" does makes her a "whore" or "prude" or "bitchy" or whatever. Buddhists have taken note of it. They say since a woman is of an impure nature she will always be ranked below a Buddhist monk even if she's been a priestess (I guess that's the female alternative to monk) for ten years and he joined yesterday. (Though modern Buddhists have changed this bit.)
Regardless of the nature of a woman, I've always been of the philosophy that every girl is a princess and should be treated as such. It's the way I'm made. It's part of the philosophy that's burned into my bones.
I've been the subject of joshin' from time to time on account of I have shown few discriminations in the women I court. I do not treat women differently based on physical features. There ain't much reason too. If you look closely enough at any woman there's somethin' worth lovin' in every one of them. It may be the eyes that get you on one, or the hips on another, or the jokes another tells, or the way one of them smiles when she's nervous. There is sumthin' about every girl that is worth carin' for.
Not all women are aware of this. There are girls in the world that think that they aren't worth lovin'. These girls believe that 'cause they got a lil heft to 'em, or freckles, or a scar, or a crooked tooth, or whatever it may be for any particular girl, that they need to fix that before someone will love them.
That just ain't true. It's a shame that anyone would ever think such a thing. I know with all the models in magazines, the images on T.V., and how little criticism us guys get for bein' outta shape, it's easy to feel like you ain't good enough for somebody. But you are. Everybody deserves love.
You girls deserve somebody to love you for you. All your quirks and imperfections are what make you girls as wonderful as anything ever to see the light of day. You are all princesses and deserve to be treated like you are. Never settle for anything less than a man. A real man that is. A real man that'll hold doors open for you, give you gifts from time to time, pay for dinner, and not put up with anyone (least of all himself) showin' you any disrespect.
In my time I've seen far too many women puttin' up with a useless man's guff. They hit women, they neglect 'em, drink til their mean, lie, cheat and steal. Those kind of men aren't any good to anybody. It's usually best to leave those fellas alone.
Now bein' a princess is a double edged sword. In my opinion, a woman should act like a princess if she expects to be treated like one. She should carry herself with some class, show herself some respect if she wants me to treat her with any. It doesn't take much but a girl that stays dirty, acts trashy, and doesn't show others any respect ain't deservin' of bein' a princess. Bein' a princess doesn't mean that you shouldn't have to work hard or that you should be waited on hand and foot. Any good leader (which is what royalty is, it means bein' in a leadership role you were born into) knows that a good leader does not disrespect her subordinates. Treat them fairly and they will treat you fairly.
One day I will have a child. She might be a girl. My daughter will be treated as a princess, just like her mother. She will grow up knowin' she's worth lovin'. She'll have respect for herself and others. She will not settle for anything less than what is deserving for herself and those she cares about. She will know her worth. When she finds her prince, I won't have to kill him. She would've picked a good one that treats her like her daddy would. 'Cause I know I won't be around forever and I'll need somebody to take care of her for me.
I don't think my girl should settle for anything less that what she really deserves.
I hope none of you girls ever do.
I hope I never give a girl any less than she deserves.
You are all princesses. Know it. Act like it. Demand that others treat you as such.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Texas by God!
They say God made the world and everything in it in six days and on the seventh he rested.
They also say that on that seventh day the devil made Texas.
The Alamo. Travis' drawin' of a line in the sand with his sabre. The deaths of himself, Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett.
The Battle of San Jacinto. Sam Houston having Santa Anna surrender to him as he rested under a tree.
Texas is one helluva place to live. It's the only state in the union to have been its own country and therefore its flag is able to fly as high as that of the U.S. It's rich with history and culture. Texas has every kind of land you could hope to find. You want ocean? You want want plains? You want forrests? You want deserts? You want cities? You want small towns? Texas has it all.
I always loved the shape of Texas, too. I know it sounds kind of odd but think about this: What shape is Wyoming? I don't know. What shape is Washington? Now, what shape is Texas? Texas is its own Texas shape.
Texas has the motto of "friendship" and you can meet plenty of good and friendly people here. There are plenty that have their own eccentric views. Some lean to the left some to the right. There are those that believe in sharin' beer and smokin' on a front porch as the sun goes down. There are those that believe the west was never won and carry their pistols and wear cowboy hats and boots. They give Texas its color.
The rough territory has been accused of makin' the people here tough as hell too. There are rattlesnakes, scorpions, bears, mountain lions, panthers and gators. The summers get into three digit numbers and in certain areas in the winter it actually snows enough to acknowledge. So, in the territory you get some rough customers too. They aren't friendly, in fact they can be downright mean. They give Texans the reputation for bein' tough enough to handle anything.
My favorite thing of all about Texas is that myth of Texas.
This is the place where cowboys and indians fought bloody gruesome wars. It's where lawmen stood against bandits. Out in the streets of Texas towns was where gamblers settled feuds in duels. Characters as big as creation were born of the Texas soil. Texas was the wildest spot in the west.
The American icon of the cowboy was born in the great state of Texas. Kids grow up in New York wantin' to play cowboys and indians. Nobody plays bankers and lawyers. It's more fun to run wild and get a lil rowdy from time to time.
All of this country used to be untamed and free, but all the "civilized" people have gotten to it and bricked everything up. They light every dark corner on every street so there is no danger or mystery. The cities are so bright it's near impossible to see the stars. Seein' the stars is a dangerous thing for city folks you know, it hurts the ego to see somethin' in the sky so beautiful, so wonderful, that you can't have or hurt or be better than.
This same "civilized" bunch came and caged the Native Americans into the poorest patches of land they could find. A damn poor way to treat the people that were kind enough to help early settlers survive. In my opinion, the natives had it pretty well down. They lived not to control the world around them but seeking to understand it and treated all things with the love and respect that you treat living creatures. Granted, they fought amongst themselves and against the government in a bloody way, but compared to our destruction of whole cities with a single bomb we don't exactly look civilized. Native Americans were not perfect but no civilization is. I do respect them for never surrendering their ways completely and how they once lived in harmony with the wild within themselves and in the world.
Texas has always held on to a little bit of that wilderness on its land and in its people's hearts.
I hope it always does.
They also say that on that seventh day the devil made Texas.
The Alamo. Travis' drawin' of a line in the sand with his sabre. The deaths of himself, Jim Bowie and Davy Crockett.
The Battle of San Jacinto. Sam Houston having Santa Anna surrender to him as he rested under a tree.
Texas is one helluva place to live. It's the only state in the union to have been its own country and therefore its flag is able to fly as high as that of the U.S. It's rich with history and culture. Texas has every kind of land you could hope to find. You want ocean? You want want plains? You want forrests? You want deserts? You want cities? You want small towns? Texas has it all.
I always loved the shape of Texas, too. I know it sounds kind of odd but think about this: What shape is Wyoming? I don't know. What shape is Washington? Now, what shape is Texas? Texas is its own Texas shape.
Texas has the motto of "friendship" and you can meet plenty of good and friendly people here. There are plenty that have their own eccentric views. Some lean to the left some to the right. There are those that believe in sharin' beer and smokin' on a front porch as the sun goes down. There are those that believe the west was never won and carry their pistols and wear cowboy hats and boots. They give Texas its color.
The rough territory has been accused of makin' the people here tough as hell too. There are rattlesnakes, scorpions, bears, mountain lions, panthers and gators. The summers get into three digit numbers and in certain areas in the winter it actually snows enough to acknowledge. So, in the territory you get some rough customers too. They aren't friendly, in fact they can be downright mean. They give Texans the reputation for bein' tough enough to handle anything.
My favorite thing of all about Texas is that myth of Texas.
This is the place where cowboys and indians fought bloody gruesome wars. It's where lawmen stood against bandits. Out in the streets of Texas towns was where gamblers settled feuds in duels. Characters as big as creation were born of the Texas soil. Texas was the wildest spot in the west.
The American icon of the cowboy was born in the great state of Texas. Kids grow up in New York wantin' to play cowboys and indians. Nobody plays bankers and lawyers. It's more fun to run wild and get a lil rowdy from time to time.
All of this country used to be untamed and free, but all the "civilized" people have gotten to it and bricked everything up. They light every dark corner on every street so there is no danger or mystery. The cities are so bright it's near impossible to see the stars. Seein' the stars is a dangerous thing for city folks you know, it hurts the ego to see somethin' in the sky so beautiful, so wonderful, that you can't have or hurt or be better than.
This same "civilized" bunch came and caged the Native Americans into the poorest patches of land they could find. A damn poor way to treat the people that were kind enough to help early settlers survive. In my opinion, the natives had it pretty well down. They lived not to control the world around them but seeking to understand it and treated all things with the love and respect that you treat living creatures. Granted, they fought amongst themselves and against the government in a bloody way, but compared to our destruction of whole cities with a single bomb we don't exactly look civilized. Native Americans were not perfect but no civilization is. I do respect them for never surrendering their ways completely and how they once lived in harmony with the wild within themselves and in the world.
Texas has always held on to a little bit of that wilderness on its land and in its people's hearts.
I hope it always does.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Empty Pockets
I'm broke.
Nothin' new. Not for me anyway. I don't think me or my family have ever been rollin' in money. I live in a neighborhood where nobody has much money. We get by without it.
I guess everybody has to these days.
It really pisses me of that people who are so greedy have ruined a decent economy for the rest of us. Bernie Madoff, you son of a bitch. Those bastards at Enron. The Wells Fargo jack ass that just bought a 12 million dollar mansion after he couldn't keep his bank afloat. George Bush, might've made you some money fightin' for oil but wars cost money and lives, I don't appreciate you misspendin' either. And a half billion others that we prolly don't know anythin' 'bout.
But the greedy aren't the only ones to blame. People made bad choices and things can't keep gettin' better forever. Though I highly doubt things would've gotten this bad without a little help.
Still bein' broke isn't the end of the world. People live like that constantly and always make it one way or another. I've been broke enough that I didn't eat for a day or two at a time. I've searched for loose change to get an 89 cent burrito from Taco Bell so I could have sumthin' to eat that day. I lost more than 30lbs in a matter of months and not 'cause I was dietin'.
Money is really such crap anyway. No one ever has enough. Everyone has financial problems. No matter how much you get it's never gonna fix your troubles. I just want enough to live comfortably and not worry 'bout goin' hungry or owin' anybody. The world would be better without these lil slips of paper or pieces of metal that tell you how much your time is worth. You trade portions of your life for the ability to go out and enjoy other portions of it, isn't that a scam? You lose about 40 hours a week to have fun about 8 hours and spend the rest wonderin' how your gonna pay for this or that and are unable to sleep 'cause you worry if your kids are gonna go hungry next month. It's all messed up. But that's the way things are.
What is good about bein' broke is that it builds character. If you grew up broke you get a better sense of the sufferin' in the world and you understand the people in it. Money creates a barrier between people that would be friends otherwise. A lot of people have said there is no racism only money that creates a clear division between the have's and have not's. Without an overabundance of money nobody gets to grow up bein' one of those spoiled rich kids that whines 'cause after wreckin' their third car daddy won't buy them another new one. That's always a plus in my book.
I'm sure you heard of the Buddha right? That chubby guy who's belly you rub for good luck in Chinese restaurants? No not Uncle Earl, the statue guy.
So Buddha was originally a prince and his daddy, the king, didn't want his son to know any pain, suffering, or any of the badness we all deal with everyday so he kept him locked up in a castle, most of the time anyway. One day the prince goes out for a ride. Now when the prince wanted to do that, the king had all the old, sick, poor etc. taken off the streets so his son wouldn't see 'em. Well this day they missed an old man. The prince stops and talks to the old man to ask him why he's like that. The old man explain he's old and he'll die soon enough, just like the prince will one day. The prince takes more rides and meets more people in different sorts of suffering conditions and decided he should do sumthin' bout it.
Eventually he comes up with the four noble truths of Buddhism which basically say:
1. Life is full of sufferin'.
2. Sufferin' comes from wantin'.
3. You gotta end your wantin' if you want to end your sufferin'.
4. The way to end you wantin' is an 8 part way of checkin' yourself. You gotta make sure you're views, intentions, actions, what you say, and a few other things are right and just. Once you've done this you'll be more enlightened and not suffer so much.
I agree with alot of that and I dig Buddhism anyway. It's a nice philosophy and I like that. I would like it if more people were more willin' to surrender their wants for all those non-essential things like big screen T.V.'s, $140 Hardy t-shirts, every new video game.
People don't need half the stuff that's bein sold to 'em. We don't need so much money if we don't need so much of the crap we waste it on. I don't like the idea of money but at the moment there's no way around it. But maybe the next time your shoppin just think about it. Do you really need any of that? Can you live without it? Would it make you life complete, really? Or are you throwin' away hours of you life trapped in metal and paper for crap?
Nothin' new. Not for me anyway. I don't think me or my family have ever been rollin' in money. I live in a neighborhood where nobody has much money. We get by without it.
I guess everybody has to these days.
It really pisses me of that people who are so greedy have ruined a decent economy for the rest of us. Bernie Madoff, you son of a bitch. Those bastards at Enron. The Wells Fargo jack ass that just bought a 12 million dollar mansion after he couldn't keep his bank afloat. George Bush, might've made you some money fightin' for oil but wars cost money and lives, I don't appreciate you misspendin' either. And a half billion others that we prolly don't know anythin' 'bout.
But the greedy aren't the only ones to blame. People made bad choices and things can't keep gettin' better forever. Though I highly doubt things would've gotten this bad without a little help.
Still bein' broke isn't the end of the world. People live like that constantly and always make it one way or another. I've been broke enough that I didn't eat for a day or two at a time. I've searched for loose change to get an 89 cent burrito from Taco Bell so I could have sumthin' to eat that day. I lost more than 30lbs in a matter of months and not 'cause I was dietin'.
Money is really such crap anyway. No one ever has enough. Everyone has financial problems. No matter how much you get it's never gonna fix your troubles. I just want enough to live comfortably and not worry 'bout goin' hungry or owin' anybody. The world would be better without these lil slips of paper or pieces of metal that tell you how much your time is worth. You trade portions of your life for the ability to go out and enjoy other portions of it, isn't that a scam? You lose about 40 hours a week to have fun about 8 hours and spend the rest wonderin' how your gonna pay for this or that and are unable to sleep 'cause you worry if your kids are gonna go hungry next month. It's all messed up. But that's the way things are.
What is good about bein' broke is that it builds character. If you grew up broke you get a better sense of the sufferin' in the world and you understand the people in it. Money creates a barrier between people that would be friends otherwise. A lot of people have said there is no racism only money that creates a clear division between the have's and have not's. Without an overabundance of money nobody gets to grow up bein' one of those spoiled rich kids that whines 'cause after wreckin' their third car daddy won't buy them another new one. That's always a plus in my book.
I'm sure you heard of the Buddha right? That chubby guy who's belly you rub for good luck in Chinese restaurants? No not Uncle Earl, the statue guy.
So Buddha was originally a prince and his daddy, the king, didn't want his son to know any pain, suffering, or any of the badness we all deal with everyday so he kept him locked up in a castle, most of the time anyway. One day the prince goes out for a ride. Now when the prince wanted to do that, the king had all the old, sick, poor etc. taken off the streets so his son wouldn't see 'em. Well this day they missed an old man. The prince stops and talks to the old man to ask him why he's like that. The old man explain he's old and he'll die soon enough, just like the prince will one day. The prince takes more rides and meets more people in different sorts of suffering conditions and decided he should do sumthin' bout it.
Eventually he comes up with the four noble truths of Buddhism which basically say:
1. Life is full of sufferin'.
2. Sufferin' comes from wantin'.
3. You gotta end your wantin' if you want to end your sufferin'.
4. The way to end you wantin' is an 8 part way of checkin' yourself. You gotta make sure you're views, intentions, actions, what you say, and a few other things are right and just. Once you've done this you'll be more enlightened and not suffer so much.
I agree with alot of that and I dig Buddhism anyway. It's a nice philosophy and I like that. I would like it if more people were more willin' to surrender their wants for all those non-essential things like big screen T.V.'s, $140 Hardy t-shirts, every new video game.
People don't need half the stuff that's bein sold to 'em. We don't need so much money if we don't need so much of the crap we waste it on. I don't like the idea of money but at the moment there's no way around it. But maybe the next time your shoppin just think about it. Do you really need any of that? Can you live without it? Would it make you life complete, really? Or are you throwin' away hours of you life trapped in metal and paper for crap?
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Lions
My father is described as a lot of different things (many are four letter words, much like his son). One of the words that still follows him like a tail is "Lion". He picked up the adjective in his violent youth.
My dad is a man with sumthin' of a short temper. As such he got into a lot of fights throughout his life. Ask him 'bout any of those times and the stories usually begin, "Well there I was just mindin my own business..."
-When his cousin shoved him into a bonfire and burned his ear and face. He spent months healing with the bandages covering his ear and face. One day that same cousin and he were tossin' logs in the bonfire and Dad decided it would be a good time to toss his cousin in just the same. He lived but was singed a lil bit. (Shouldn't have pushed him.)
-When he overheard four guys pickin' a fight with a guy(they called him Bully, on account of he liked to pick on girls when he was younger, snappin' bra straps and knockin their books down and the like) tryin' to pick up a girl in a pool hall. Bully was holdin' his own when one of the four pulled a knife and was about to stab Bully at the back of his neck. Dad stepped in and saved Bully's life. They handled their business and years later Bully married my dad's sister and became my uncle.
-When a guy walked up behind him in a bar to pick a fight for one thing or another (I don't recall at the moment why exactly). He spun Dad around on the bar stool but 'cause Dad saw him comin' in the mirror above the bar he was ready. As soon as the man spun him around Dad hit him with a solid uppercut to the gut which made the man let out the nastiest fart ever heard in a Texan bar.
-He fought off a dozen (Not sure of the exact number but seriously more than six) teenage gangbangers that were tryin' to get to my older brother. He put three of them in the hospital for weeks. They did the same to him but it took them a while. I was young but I remember bein' hauled off and him fightin' in a crowd under a streetlight.
There are honestly a good ten more stories like that that I've heard, there's no tellin' how many he decided to keep from his children. And while it's very cool to be able to say my dad was one helluva fighter and considerin' he just turned fifty-nine still is, it's sumthin' that has followed him like a shadow.
He started of not wantin' to fight. The earliest fight he ever told me about was between him and a good friend of his while he was still in school. (In case you didn't read the last one, he was forced to drop out in the sixth grade.) They fought because back then they could box in the school's gym class (without anybody's mom suing), and his friend got very confident. He beat my dad consistently in gym 'cause dad didn't want to hurt him. But the kid got a big head about it and kept callin' him a wimp around the school and talkin' mess in front of his friends. One day my dad told him he'd been holdin' back. The kid didn't believe it so he and the other kids wouldn't leave my dad alone 'til he fought the kid. They did, the kid lost, and my dad lost a good friend.
Fightin' isn't the answer most of the time. There's always cases when you can walk away. There will also be times when you're gonna have to stand you're ground. A man shouldn't be afraid to defend himself or others. But he should also not go around pickin' fights. He should never, ever put his hands on a woman (unless maybe she's tryin' to take a knife to your pecker, so I'd recommend talkin' things out 'fore they got that bad.)
The thing about fightin' is that it's a lil scary at first and as you do it more and more you get more confident with it. You become more comfortable with it as a solution to an argument. And then you become a "lion".
You become the guy people whisper about. "Oh don't mess with him, Jack. He'll put the hurt on you. You heard he knocked that fella's eye right out of its socket right? Yeah, he's bad man."
And secretly you might like that. What guy wouldn't want a reputation like that? The guys respect you, the girls think you're hot in that bad boy kinda way.
Then one day you're sittin' there mindin' your own business and it happens.
You become the guy people talk to. "Hey, Hey you! They say you're real bad. They say people shouldn't mess with you. What about me? You think you can take me?"
Then what? The lion has to fight. The lion doesn't get to defend himself and others anymore. He just fights.
There's a thin line between fightin' for what's right and fightin' 'cause you can. Real lions and real men fight when they have to. They prepare for battle in case it comes. But they don't go lookin' for it.
My dad is a man with sumthin' of a short temper. As such he got into a lot of fights throughout his life. Ask him 'bout any of those times and the stories usually begin, "Well there I was just mindin my own business..."
-When his cousin shoved him into a bonfire and burned his ear and face. He spent months healing with the bandages covering his ear and face. One day that same cousin and he were tossin' logs in the bonfire and Dad decided it would be a good time to toss his cousin in just the same. He lived but was singed a lil bit. (Shouldn't have pushed him.)
-When he overheard four guys pickin' a fight with a guy(they called him Bully, on account of he liked to pick on girls when he was younger, snappin' bra straps and knockin their books down and the like) tryin' to pick up a girl in a pool hall. Bully was holdin' his own when one of the four pulled a knife and was about to stab Bully at the back of his neck. Dad stepped in and saved Bully's life. They handled their business and years later Bully married my dad's sister and became my uncle.
-When a guy walked up behind him in a bar to pick a fight for one thing or another (I don't recall at the moment why exactly). He spun Dad around on the bar stool but 'cause Dad saw him comin' in the mirror above the bar he was ready. As soon as the man spun him around Dad hit him with a solid uppercut to the gut which made the man let out the nastiest fart ever heard in a Texan bar.
-He fought off a dozen (Not sure of the exact number but seriously more than six) teenage gangbangers that were tryin' to get to my older brother. He put three of them in the hospital for weeks. They did the same to him but it took them a while. I was young but I remember bein' hauled off and him fightin' in a crowd under a streetlight.
There are honestly a good ten more stories like that that I've heard, there's no tellin' how many he decided to keep from his children. And while it's very cool to be able to say my dad was one helluva fighter and considerin' he just turned fifty-nine still is, it's sumthin' that has followed him like a shadow.
He started of not wantin' to fight. The earliest fight he ever told me about was between him and a good friend of his while he was still in school. (In case you didn't read the last one, he was forced to drop out in the sixth grade.) They fought because back then they could box in the school's gym class (without anybody's mom suing), and his friend got very confident. He beat my dad consistently in gym 'cause dad didn't want to hurt him. But the kid got a big head about it and kept callin' him a wimp around the school and talkin' mess in front of his friends. One day my dad told him he'd been holdin' back. The kid didn't believe it so he and the other kids wouldn't leave my dad alone 'til he fought the kid. They did, the kid lost, and my dad lost a good friend.
Fightin' isn't the answer most of the time. There's always cases when you can walk away. There will also be times when you're gonna have to stand you're ground. A man shouldn't be afraid to defend himself or others. But he should also not go around pickin' fights. He should never, ever put his hands on a woman (unless maybe she's tryin' to take a knife to your pecker, so I'd recommend talkin' things out 'fore they got that bad.)
The thing about fightin' is that it's a lil scary at first and as you do it more and more you get more confident with it. You become more comfortable with it as a solution to an argument. And then you become a "lion".
You become the guy people whisper about. "Oh don't mess with him, Jack. He'll put the hurt on you. You heard he knocked that fella's eye right out of its socket right? Yeah, he's bad man."
And secretly you might like that. What guy wouldn't want a reputation like that? The guys respect you, the girls think you're hot in that bad boy kinda way.
Then one day you're sittin' there mindin' your own business and it happens.
You become the guy people talk to. "Hey, Hey you! They say you're real bad. They say people shouldn't mess with you. What about me? You think you can take me?"
Then what? The lion has to fight. The lion doesn't get to defend himself and others anymore. He just fights.
There's a thin line between fightin' for what's right and fightin' 'cause you can. Real lions and real men fight when they have to. They prepare for battle in case it comes. But they don't go lookin' for it.
A Man's Word
My dad was born in June of 1950 in Corpus Christi (Corpitos, as he likes to call it). He moved to Iowa with his family a few years later and was happy there. He went to school all the way through his sixth grade year. After that he had to quit school to help his family. He worked doin' lots of different things and even on the family farm.
One year he'd managed to save up enough money to buy a Chevy, unfortunately, his family didn't have enough money for the coal it would take to heat the home for the winter. (Yeah, Dad's a lil old school they had one big coal furnace to heat the home. Iowa winter's are no joke anyway, he always talked about how everything in the cities shut down and you really couldn't see much out of the first floor windows of his home.) So, my father wound up surrenderin' his money to survive the winter.
Wantin' to get the car anyway my father went and talked to the car dealer. He tells the salesman there that he doesn't have the money now but would in the spring when he was workin' again. The man shook my teenage father's hand and told him he had a deal. My father was proud and drove the car off the lot.
He turned the corner, proud of the deal he'd struck, and when he did he saw his father walkin' down the street. My grandfather had come and talked to the salesman and encouraged him to let his son have the car. My father was happy to know that he had a father that would do that for him.
A man's word is very important. I do my best to do what I say I'm gonna do. If a man can't be trusted to tell the truth or do what he says he's gonna do what good is he?
There are certain things that make up a real man in my opinion. He should be a pillar of strength to his friends and family. He must be reliable, courageous, honorable, and show respect for himself and others. (I could list a lot more but I don't think either of us have the patience for all of that.)
Part of being reliable means that you'd be honest and keep your promises. You say you're gonna pay for a car, you pay for it. You say you're gonna borrow sumthin' you bring it back as soon as possible and in the best condition you can. Somebody drops money in front of you you pick it up and give it to them.
You give your word and you keep it. You make the sacrifices so the weaker people or those you want to protect don't always have to. You put the ones you love before yourself as best you can. You make a deal and stick to it.
These things, I believe, would make any man a better man. It's what I believe, what my father believes, and my grandfather believed. A real man can do these thing. Real men have been doin' their best to do these things.
I feel like all of this is common sense and almost not worth my time or yours but more and more I see young men actin' like dumbasses with no respect for themselves or others and if their daddy's ain't teachin' 'em somebody ought to. I got lucky. I got one hell of a daddy. I love and respect him. He ain't perfect but without a doubt in my mind he's a good man and if you're daddy is an asshole or never around I'd hope that what my dad has taught me could help you or those men around you.
One year he'd managed to save up enough money to buy a Chevy, unfortunately, his family didn't have enough money for the coal it would take to heat the home for the winter. (Yeah, Dad's a lil old school they had one big coal furnace to heat the home. Iowa winter's are no joke anyway, he always talked about how everything in the cities shut down and you really couldn't see much out of the first floor windows of his home.) So, my father wound up surrenderin' his money to survive the winter.
Wantin' to get the car anyway my father went and talked to the car dealer. He tells the salesman there that he doesn't have the money now but would in the spring when he was workin' again. The man shook my teenage father's hand and told him he had a deal. My father was proud and drove the car off the lot.
He turned the corner, proud of the deal he'd struck, and when he did he saw his father walkin' down the street. My grandfather had come and talked to the salesman and encouraged him to let his son have the car. My father was happy to know that he had a father that would do that for him.
A man's word is very important. I do my best to do what I say I'm gonna do. If a man can't be trusted to tell the truth or do what he says he's gonna do what good is he?
There are certain things that make up a real man in my opinion. He should be a pillar of strength to his friends and family. He must be reliable, courageous, honorable, and show respect for himself and others. (I could list a lot more but I don't think either of us have the patience for all of that.)
Part of being reliable means that you'd be honest and keep your promises. You say you're gonna pay for a car, you pay for it. You say you're gonna borrow sumthin' you bring it back as soon as possible and in the best condition you can. Somebody drops money in front of you you pick it up and give it to them.
You give your word and you keep it. You make the sacrifices so the weaker people or those you want to protect don't always have to. You put the ones you love before yourself as best you can. You make a deal and stick to it.
These things, I believe, would make any man a better man. It's what I believe, what my father believes, and my grandfather believed. A real man can do these thing. Real men have been doin' their best to do these things.
I feel like all of this is common sense and almost not worth my time or yours but more and more I see young men actin' like dumbasses with no respect for themselves or others and if their daddy's ain't teachin' 'em somebody ought to. I got lucky. I got one hell of a daddy. I love and respect him. He ain't perfect but without a doubt in my mind he's a good man and if you're daddy is an asshole or never around I'd hope that what my dad has taught me could help you or those men around you.
Friday, September 4, 2009
The Ultimate Goal of Bein' Moral
Yesterday, I read about this kid on a bus that saved twenty-two lives. He was ridin' at the back of the bus to school and fell asleep onlt to get woken up by his lil sisters sayin there's a fourteen-year-old girl wavin' a gun everywhere. He gets up, thinks fast, and let's the kids out the of the emergency exit. He gets the girl's attention and makes sure the barrel of the gun is pointed at him. The girl is neverous and distracted, she looks out the window, and the guy tackles her to take her gun away. He has the gun, unloads it, and saves the day.
(Cue the applause boys and girls, the young football star is clearly a hero.)
A few years back my brother and I were on our way to fix a water leak. We weren't too familiar with the neighborhood so we stop and check our key map. While we're doin' that two women pull up near us and start shoutin' "Help us! Help us! There's somebody breakin' in our house!" So we follow them and pull up to their driveway.
One of the women gets out of the truck and says "They're in the back!", so I charge in (stupidly, 'cause I'm unarmed). My brother grabs the biggest pipe wrench he can find an comes in behind me. We spot two teenage boys halfway in the house and call the cops. It only takes em about forty-five minutes to get there. We were late to our waterleak and that lady yelled at us. She called the office and talked to our boss/dad. When we got back to the office he yelled at us. We explained why we were late and he yelled at us some more. He thought we were foolish for gettin involved, those people could've been armed or they might try messin' with the company now, etc. Lame.
(Cue the laughter 'cause I don't get how we messed that up really. I thought we did what we had to do and I'd do it again.)
Why should a person be moral? Why should we try and help others? What good could come of it? These stories show different examples of what could happen if you try helpin' others. You could be praised for bein a hero or you could wind up gettin fussed at for the whole thing. But like I said, I'd do it again. But why?
My girlfriend wrote a paper on why people should be moral and here's what that said:
(Cue the applause boys and girls, the young football star is clearly a hero.)
A few years back my brother and I were on our way to fix a water leak. We weren't too familiar with the neighborhood so we stop and check our key map. While we're doin' that two women pull up near us and start shoutin' "Help us! Help us! There's somebody breakin' in our house!" So we follow them and pull up to their driveway.
One of the women gets out of the truck and says "They're in the back!", so I charge in (stupidly, 'cause I'm unarmed). My brother grabs the biggest pipe wrench he can find an comes in behind me. We spot two teenage boys halfway in the house and call the cops. It only takes em about forty-five minutes to get there. We were late to our waterleak and that lady yelled at us. She called the office and talked to our boss/dad. When we got back to the office he yelled at us. We explained why we were late and he yelled at us some more. He thought we were foolish for gettin involved, those people could've been armed or they might try messin' with the company now, etc. Lame.
(Cue the laughter 'cause I don't get how we messed that up really. I thought we did what we had to do and I'd do it again.)
Why should a person be moral? Why should we try and help others? What good could come of it? These stories show different examples of what could happen if you try helpin' others. You could be praised for bein a hero or you could wind up gettin fussed at for the whole thing. But like I said, I'd do it again. But why?
My girlfriend wrote a paper on why people should be moral and here's what that said:
A Not so Modest Proposal
Why be moral? Simply put, to get ahead. The point of being moral isn’t necessarily to live morally, but to lead others into thinking that a particular person is living morally, while he is still getting ahead of the nice guy. Life is a race people want to win, and the quickest way to achieve that is by mastering the art of pretending to be moral. It’s been said that evil has many faces. Anyone can have many faces and learn to only show the face that lives morally, at least, what others perceive as moral.
Pretending to be moral can be a major health advantage. Putting in too much hard work for too long is extremely taxing. It causes unnecessary stress which, if ignored for an extended amount of time, can lead to medical problems such as depression, fatigue, apathy, and a number of heart problems. This happens when trying to live morally; living by the rules and restrictions that others try to suppress individuals with. On the other hand, if someone is only pretending to be moral, he will have the satisfaction of knowing that he’s living by his own rules. A man can be free! A person could work as much or as little as he wants and still be happy knowing that he’s making as much money as the guys working twice as hard as him. This cutback on stress is a sure way to lead a healthy and happy life.
Why should people not cut corners? Everyone else is looking out for themselves. Why follow rules that others will break to get ahead of everyone else in the race? Friedrich Nietzsche said in The Antichrist that “Morality is the best of all devices for leading mankind by the nose.” Morality limits what options people have by eliminating several that would make their successes easier to obtain. It is better for a person to get what they want and how they want it. The opportunity to succeed may never present itself to some in a “moral” way. The point of being moral is to be successful at one’s endeavors while being an example of a model citizen to society. It’s not so different to merely appear to be moral in public. It’s a shame when people assume that everyone is living by the same moral code as them.
People live morally to ensure their justice if one should ever bring harm unto them. If a man is robbed, morals are what lead a jury to charge the offender as guilty and give him a sentence seen fit to compensate for the victim. To avoid being a victim, one should simply get ahead by robbing them first. Pretending to be moral has an equally effective way of protecting people against victimization; a preemptive strike against those who would do others harm. In the end, Life’s a race people die trying to win. Everyone will always chase the dream of being the happiest whether they do it morally, or pretend to. People should be able to reach their happiness however they can, just don’t get caught.
I have to disagree with that.
Undoubtedly, it is what a lot of people do. People tell you one thing and do another. I believe the reason any moral rules are broken by a person supporting these rules is through a flaw in this person. Some have issues going back to their childhood, some have imbalances in their brain chemistry, others have been led to believe that actin' immorrally is acceptable. No one is perfect and you can't expect people to be perfect. Even a person who does his best to be moral is going to have his faults. I am obviously not perfect. My girlfriend is not perfect. Still this addresses more why people are not always moral. If people can not be moral all the time and are going to make mistakes why should anyone try to be moral ever?
I believe that by tryin' to be a better person you can become a better person. You try and you try to do things in a way that shows love, respect, and compassion for you fellow man and eventually it becomes habit. You won't even have to think about what's right in certain situations. It'll become second nature to you.
By having this behavior become a part of you, you will be able to pass it on to your friends and family through your example. It doesn't work immediately or in all cases. You can't force it on to people. It's somethin' that oughtta be soaked in over time. It can take years even generations but I believe that the end result is that when the morality finally soaks into your children, your friends' children and so on the world will have become a slightly better place where there is more love, respect and compassion. There would be less lyin', less back stabbin', less senseless violence.
That is the ultimate goal of bein' moral.
That's all anybody really wants.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Nobody Wins
There was a man several years ago, he really wanted to be a songwriter. He studied English and went on to become a professor of English at a well respected college. He left this college to become a janitor at a record company in Tennessee. That didn't give him enough money to pay his bills so on the weekends he worked flyin' a helicopter. He flew helicopters in the army and was an experienced pilot. He was paid well to fly business men on and off of oil rigs in the ocean.
While he worked at this record company during the week, he met a lot of big stars in the country music. Among them was his idol, Johnny Cash. This man gave Johnny Cash and a few others songs of his to look over, but everyone does that to rock stars so no one ever really paid attention to the janitor's song.
This janitor got tired of bein turned down by everyone everywhere he went. He believed in himself. He believed he had sumthin' special inside him and wanted to share it with the world. So, this nobody hops in a helicopter one weekend and flies it to Johnny Cash's place and of course Cash can't ignore this guy now. He gives his songs a listen and decides this man actually has talent.
The janitor got a recording contract, became great friends with his idol, wrote a dozen hit songs, released several albums, was partnered up with several musicians known worldwide, even starred in a few movies that I'm there's a good chance you've seen.
Odds are you don't know his name though.
It's Kris Kristofferson.
See?
8 outta 10 of you just said, "Who the hell is that?"
He wrote "Me and Bobby McGee", "Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down", and several other popular songs. He toured with The Highwaymen, a group made up of Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and himself. He starred in "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid", the "Blade" trilogy, and "Planet of the Apes"(Although, it was Tim Burton's new piece of crap movie not the classic with Chuck Heston).
The man's music is great in my humble opinion. I love the sound of his voice. A lot of his movies suck but there are a few good ones. (He was in one called "Heaven's Gate" that was a massive flop. He's not a horrible actor but I wouldn't say he's great either.) For one reason or another, despite his talent and the people (like Johnny Cash, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan, and Willie Nelson) he was friends with he never seemed to get anywhere outside of the country music community.
Everybody knows Ritchie Valens (Ricardo Valenzuela) for about five good songs and a movie starring Lou Diamond Phillips (I hope that's a made up name). Everybody knows James Dean for about three movies. Yes, these guys died young and tragically, I get that. But Kris Kristofferson has decades of under-appreciated work under his belt.
I believe Kris Kristofferson is the most underestimated musician alive. He's gettin' old too so there's not exactly a lot of time left to appreciate him. He was born down in Brownsville back in '36 if I'm not mistaken (Puts him at 73 for you math people out there). Through his music I feel like I know the guy. I've seen a ton of interviews with him. I pay attention to whatever it is that he's workin' on. If I ever got to meet him, I'd want my dad to be there and we could all sit down and have an ice cold beer.
I feel he's under-appreciated 'cause I can mention him to almost anybody off the street and nobody knows who he is. He's a Nobody, but he's the most famous and talented Nobody you never heard of. So I guess Nobody wins anyway. He's got his fame and his money but not enough to keep him caged apart from family and friends. (The few that are left anyway.)
No this isn't my usual philosophy or complainin' I just really feel that more people should know who this guy is an I felt like sayin' it. I also really love the story of how he got Johnny Cash's attention. Ain't that the coolest?
"Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose,
Nothin' ain't worth nothin' but it's free,
Feelin' good was easy, Lord, when Bobby sang the blues,
Feelin' good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and Bobby McGee"
-"Me and Bobby McGee" Kris Kristofferson 1969
While he worked at this record company during the week, he met a lot of big stars in the country music. Among them was his idol, Johnny Cash. This man gave Johnny Cash and a few others songs of his to look over, but everyone does that to rock stars so no one ever really paid attention to the janitor's song.
This janitor got tired of bein turned down by everyone everywhere he went. He believed in himself. He believed he had sumthin' special inside him and wanted to share it with the world. So, this nobody hops in a helicopter one weekend and flies it to Johnny Cash's place and of course Cash can't ignore this guy now. He gives his songs a listen and decides this man actually has talent.
The janitor got a recording contract, became great friends with his idol, wrote a dozen hit songs, released several albums, was partnered up with several musicians known worldwide, even starred in a few movies that I'm there's a good chance you've seen.
Odds are you don't know his name though.
It's Kris Kristofferson.
See?
8 outta 10 of you just said, "Who the hell is that?"
He wrote "Me and Bobby McGee", "Sunday Mornin' Comin' Down", and several other popular songs. He toured with The Highwaymen, a group made up of Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, and himself. He starred in "Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid", the "Blade" trilogy, and "Planet of the Apes"(Although, it was Tim Burton's new piece of crap movie not the classic with Chuck Heston).
The man's music is great in my humble opinion. I love the sound of his voice. A lot of his movies suck but there are a few good ones. (He was in one called "Heaven's Gate" that was a massive flop. He's not a horrible actor but I wouldn't say he's great either.) For one reason or another, despite his talent and the people (like Johnny Cash, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan, and Willie Nelson) he was friends with he never seemed to get anywhere outside of the country music community.
Everybody knows Ritchie Valens (Ricardo Valenzuela) for about five good songs and a movie starring Lou Diamond Phillips (I hope that's a made up name). Everybody knows James Dean for about three movies. Yes, these guys died young and tragically, I get that. But Kris Kristofferson has decades of under-appreciated work under his belt.
I believe Kris Kristofferson is the most underestimated musician alive. He's gettin' old too so there's not exactly a lot of time left to appreciate him. He was born down in Brownsville back in '36 if I'm not mistaken (Puts him at 73 for you math people out there). Through his music I feel like I know the guy. I've seen a ton of interviews with him. I pay attention to whatever it is that he's workin' on. If I ever got to meet him, I'd want my dad to be there and we could all sit down and have an ice cold beer.
I feel he's under-appreciated 'cause I can mention him to almost anybody off the street and nobody knows who he is. He's a Nobody, but he's the most famous and talented Nobody you never heard of. So I guess Nobody wins anyway. He's got his fame and his money but not enough to keep him caged apart from family and friends. (The few that are left anyway.)
No this isn't my usual philosophy or complainin' I just really feel that more people should know who this guy is an I felt like sayin' it. I also really love the story of how he got Johnny Cash's attention. Ain't that the coolest?
"Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose,
Nothin' ain't worth nothin' but it's free,
Feelin' good was easy, Lord, when Bobby sang the blues,
Feelin' good was good enough for me,
Good enough for me and Bobby McGee"
-"Me and Bobby McGee" Kris Kristofferson 1969
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
My Flaws are Many
Did you know that I have a few items of jewelry that I wear constantly?
I do. I wear a necklace with a cross and a bracelet.
I have a few different versions but for the last year or so I've worn a bracelt on my left wrist and a cross.
The cross is pretty obvious, I'm supposed to be Catholic, though I'm not much of one, and I do allow for the teachings of Christ to be an influence in my life and try to do good as he would.
The bracelet is more or less a metaphorical "shackle" for my left hand. In mythology, the left side is the side of evil. It was thought that this hand was more open to malicious doings. It's why when you spill salt you take it in your right hand and throw it over your left shoulder and into the eyes of the devil as he approaches the left side to try to lure you into temptation. I wear it so I consider the cosequences of my actions before I do them.
(I also wear a lot of black. That I stole from Johnny Cash. No, I'm not "emo". If you've never heard "Man in Black" by him you should. It's on my playlist at www.myspace.com/sonuvadamnit if you wanna give it a listen. There's more than 300 songs there now too, so you might just play around with that anyway.)
I do these things because I know very good and well I'm not perfect. I've been called that a lot lately, but I know better. I'm not some poor, pathetic, no-good loser, and woe is not me, but I've done wrong and I can do right. I have lots of flaws and considerin' I dont have forever, here's a few.
#1) I'm a sucker for women. I can't tell you the number of times I've been duped by a woman into spendin' money on her or doin' favors or somethin' that I shouldn't have in general. I can't help it. I really can't.
I have this mentality that women should be treated like something special and while there are many that deserve to be there are several that have made it a habit of takin' advantage of guys like me.
(C.$. got me for $4,700, more if you count the time I spent takin' care of her and hers when she wasn't workin', and I'm stuck with the bill. I should've listened to Sam 'bout her.)
#2) I do my best to please everyone. I have always felt that if I'm havin' fun someone else is sufferin' for it. For as long back as I can remember, anytime I was havin' fun somethin' bad was bound to happen.
Maybe I'm just awkward or have an insane amount of guilt but I always felt that my place was to help others and do what I could to make them happy. (I guess that makes me seem like a good boyfriend or friend but it's 'cause I dont feel comfortable doin' anythin' else.) This causes me lots of stress that I could do without.
I start to feel myself pulled in a dozen different directions and become kinda grumpy and scary. I want to be there for everyone that needs a helpin' hand but it's just not possible. My dad has carried my uncle for so many years and all it's done is enabled him to be a drunk with few consequences. My uncle has lost a family, a few homes, countless brain cells, but always has a crutch if he needs one. It's not healthy for either of them.
#3) I'm a huge flirt. Growin' up I was so nervous around girls I practically never talked to them. I could never tell if a girl liked me 'cause I never figured I was special enough to have anybody see anything like that in me.
Then my brother gave me the best piece of advice that a two-time felon ever gave me "The secret to talkin' to any girl you like is, you talk to all of them like you like them." It's true. It worked for me. You talk to a girl you're not into like you want her and she responds. You test out what you can say and how she reacts. If she doesn't like what your sayin' it's no huge loss 'cause you didn't like her anyway.
Unfortunately, this got me so used to flirtin' I can do it without ever realizin' that I'm flirtin'. (I'm sure anybody can see how this could be a problem. In case you can't, I'll tell you this: The week I graduated I had three girls I was foolin' around with, two of 'em were best friends, I'm pretty sure they aren't anymore.)
#4) Nothing is ever good enough for me. I'm not one to complain...well I am actually. I guess that's why they say I'm a grumpy old man. I want things to be the way I want them. I won't complain say about the dinner my girlfriend makes for me (There really isn't much to complain about at all, mouth's waterin a bit actually thinkin' bout the spaghetti, salad and breadsticks, but I prolly wouldn't 'cause she took the time to make it anyway.) but I'm never satisfied with the world in general or anything I do.
I work out to be fitter, faster, and stronger than I am. I work on my writin' so I am the best in my mind. I know I can always be better but it's improved, undoubtedly. I'm constantly workin' to improve my faults. My father said "You might be good at somethin' but there's always gonna be someone better. That's why you always have to keep workin' at it, to get better."
I'm constantly workin' to improve my faults. I'm not perfect. I well aware of this. I have done rotten despicable things in my life. I've lied. I've cheated on girlfriends. I've kicked a kitten. I've slept with women that I shouldn't have. I've turned my back on my friends. I've treated women poorly. I've felt hatred boil in my blood. I've considered suicide. I've been through a Hell that I have no one but myself to blame for. I've done things that I am not proud of at all but I remember my mistakes and work towards improving myself everyday.
In case you're wonderin', yes every word of this is true.
"But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Til things are brighter, I'm the Man in Black."
-"Man in Black", Johnny Cash, 1971
I do. I wear a necklace with a cross and a bracelet.
I have a few different versions but for the last year or so I've worn a bracelt on my left wrist and a cross.
The cross is pretty obvious, I'm supposed to be Catholic, though I'm not much of one, and I do allow for the teachings of Christ to be an influence in my life and try to do good as he would.
The bracelet is more or less a metaphorical "shackle" for my left hand. In mythology, the left side is the side of evil. It was thought that this hand was more open to malicious doings. It's why when you spill salt you take it in your right hand and throw it over your left shoulder and into the eyes of the devil as he approaches the left side to try to lure you into temptation. I wear it so I consider the cosequences of my actions before I do them.
(I also wear a lot of black. That I stole from Johnny Cash. No, I'm not "emo". If you've never heard "Man in Black" by him you should. It's on my playlist at www.myspace.com/sonuvadamnit if you wanna give it a listen. There's more than 300 songs there now too, so you might just play around with that anyway.)
I do these things because I know very good and well I'm not perfect. I've been called that a lot lately, but I know better. I'm not some poor, pathetic, no-good loser, and woe is not me, but I've done wrong and I can do right. I have lots of flaws and considerin' I dont have forever, here's a few.
#1) I'm a sucker for women. I can't tell you the number of times I've been duped by a woman into spendin' money on her or doin' favors or somethin' that I shouldn't have in general. I can't help it. I really can't.
I have this mentality that women should be treated like something special and while there are many that deserve to be there are several that have made it a habit of takin' advantage of guys like me.
(C.$. got me for $4,700, more if you count the time I spent takin' care of her and hers when she wasn't workin', and I'm stuck with the bill. I should've listened to Sam 'bout her.)
#2) I do my best to please everyone. I have always felt that if I'm havin' fun someone else is sufferin' for it. For as long back as I can remember, anytime I was havin' fun somethin' bad was bound to happen.
Maybe I'm just awkward or have an insane amount of guilt but I always felt that my place was to help others and do what I could to make them happy. (I guess that makes me seem like a good boyfriend or friend but it's 'cause I dont feel comfortable doin' anythin' else.) This causes me lots of stress that I could do without.
I start to feel myself pulled in a dozen different directions and become kinda grumpy and scary. I want to be there for everyone that needs a helpin' hand but it's just not possible. My dad has carried my uncle for so many years and all it's done is enabled him to be a drunk with few consequences. My uncle has lost a family, a few homes, countless brain cells, but always has a crutch if he needs one. It's not healthy for either of them.
#3) I'm a huge flirt. Growin' up I was so nervous around girls I practically never talked to them. I could never tell if a girl liked me 'cause I never figured I was special enough to have anybody see anything like that in me.
Then my brother gave me the best piece of advice that a two-time felon ever gave me "The secret to talkin' to any girl you like is, you talk to all of them like you like them." It's true. It worked for me. You talk to a girl you're not into like you want her and she responds. You test out what you can say and how she reacts. If she doesn't like what your sayin' it's no huge loss 'cause you didn't like her anyway.
Unfortunately, this got me so used to flirtin' I can do it without ever realizin' that I'm flirtin'. (I'm sure anybody can see how this could be a problem. In case you can't, I'll tell you this: The week I graduated I had three girls I was foolin' around with, two of 'em were best friends, I'm pretty sure they aren't anymore.)
#4) Nothing is ever good enough for me. I'm not one to complain...well I am actually. I guess that's why they say I'm a grumpy old man. I want things to be the way I want them. I won't complain say about the dinner my girlfriend makes for me (There really isn't much to complain about at all, mouth's waterin a bit actually thinkin' bout the spaghetti, salad and breadsticks, but I prolly wouldn't 'cause she took the time to make it anyway.) but I'm never satisfied with the world in general or anything I do.
I work out to be fitter, faster, and stronger than I am. I work on my writin' so I am the best in my mind. I know I can always be better but it's improved, undoubtedly. I'm constantly workin' to improve my faults. My father said "You might be good at somethin' but there's always gonna be someone better. That's why you always have to keep workin' at it, to get better."
I'm constantly workin' to improve my faults. I'm not perfect. I well aware of this. I have done rotten despicable things in my life. I've lied. I've cheated on girlfriends. I've kicked a kitten. I've slept with women that I shouldn't have. I've turned my back on my friends. I've treated women poorly. I've felt hatred boil in my blood. I've considered suicide. I've been through a Hell that I have no one but myself to blame for. I've done things that I am not proud of at all but I remember my mistakes and work towards improving myself everyday.
In case you're wonderin', yes every word of this is true.
"But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back,
'Til things are brighter, I'm the Man in Black."
-"Man in Black", Johnny Cash, 1971
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