Monday Morning

"We're all here to do what we're all here to do."

On Monday of just this week I sat around a table of middle management and up...and felt disgust. Utter disgust. I had a headache by the time it was all over. There we sat, discussing the impact of market exposure and errors on customer accounts. Managers vying to impress the big boss, whose name ironically sounds like something from a mafia movie. "This isn't me," I thought to myself. I know what I'm capable of, and it's something way beyond which error type causes the largest impact to the firm. What difference did it make? How am I helping people? How does this help me? Is this going to make me happy? My frustration grew, and for the first time in a long time - maybe in my life - I started to question where I fit. And I knew almost before I asked that it wasn't at that table.

You hear a lot of people talk about code. Something to stand for or believe in. To have a purpose. To make a difference. Thinking about the past 27 years of my life is a frustrating experience. I'm not, by any stretch of the imagination, disappointed with every second of my life. Just like everyone, there are some moments I wish I could forget and some I wish I could live forever. What I'm saying is, leading up to today, right now, I don't believe I've done what I am here to do. To make matters worse, I don't even know what that is. But I have made enough mistakes and wrong turns to know what it's not. I can't say that people don't walk around wondering what they're here for - hell, I didn't even start thinking about it until recently. But I'm sure there are individuals who live their life day-to-day, relishing the good and suffering the bad, but not putting it together to form something bigger. Not learning a lesson, and not teaching anyone else. Not playing the role of the cog in the machine. It's a strange thing to feel clear and confused at the same time. Motivated yet hampered. Living on both ends of the continuum. Constantly feeling a lump in my throat, but not knowing if tears of joy or pain will fall...or if, indeed, they'll fall at all. Even right now I wish I could write forever, to best articulate what I'm feeling. But the solace I find in this new found appreciation for life is the new found appreciation for life itself. Call it a moment of clarity...call it a fire under my ass...I honestly don't know what to call it, but I'm glad I have it, and hope I don't lose it. Does that make me better than the next person? Of course not...I'd never think that of myself.

I just wish the same for everyone.

Waive Goodbye

Waive Goodbye - Patrick Kelly

You’d never see the sun setting on his mother’s love
She always tried to give him better than what she’d had coming up
He gave a life full of memories and still lived her dream
But look where he ended up
She wonders now more than ever if what she gave him was enough
(But it’s never enough)

And still she runs a close-knit family with pain in her eyes
It’s raining tears but she withstands it, though it strains her to try
He left her with an understanding; he says “mama don’t cry”
“Just give me time, I’ll make it right”
And waives his goodbye

Time doesn’t seem to be quite enough to heal her pain
And if he’s not around to grow their seed, she might find someone else who can
Gave her 6 months of memories, now speaks through her dreams
It’s not the life he had planned
Now every time she needs her father, she’s looking for the wrong man
But how could she understand?

He’d started up his own family; he’d made them his life
A baby girl who misses daddy; a great loving wife
Still trying to keep them happy, he tells them, “ladies, don’t cry”
“Just give me time, I’ll make it right”
And waives his goodbye

In spite of doing all they can
They just can’t get him out their system
Still hoping for another chance
Just to say how much they miss him
He’s smiling on the other end
He wants them all to understand
Leaves his footprints in the sand
So they know he’s walking with them

Everyone should know his story, that’s why he left them behind
Everyone should be so lucky to love somebody of his kind
And when the night is at its darkest, they’re looking for his star to shine
“You had your time, we’ll be alright…now say your goodbye”

No homo

So Kanye West. He's a special guy. Producer extraordinaire and all around dickhead. Not because he doesn't make good music. I'll admit it...I own all four of his albums. But he is an ass, in the true sense of the word. And I know by even posting this blog I am playing into exactly what he preaches against. He always talks about saying things are "gay" in a negative context. I do it all the time. It's convenient. Gay is monosyllabic, three letters, and I'd venture to say even funny. I don't have a problem with gay people; I may not agree with their lifestyle, but as long as they don't try to impose it on anyone, do what you want. I don't agree with what Muslims have to say either, but as long as they're staying out of my church and not taking bacon off my plate we're good. But back Kanye. Below is a direct quote from Mr. West taken from the March issue of Details.

". . . if it's, like, good, good, good fashion-level, design-level stuff, where it's on a higher level than the average commercial design stuff, it's, like, gay people that do that. I think that should be said as a compliment. Like, 'Dude, that's so good it's almost . . . gay.'"

Sounds a little gay to me.

I hear what you're saying - don't use "gay" in a negative connotation. Fair enough. But you want me to use it in a positive context? Anything good in my life I don't want to be gay. "This steak is gay." Nope. Doesn't sound right, read right or type right. Sincerest apologies to all steaks out there. I don't even feel right saying it.

My point is simple. I understand using "gay" may be offensive, and I can easily find another word. But Kanye is pushing it. Stick to the beats dude.

Wish for Without

Wish for Without.mp3 - Patrick Kelly

It started so well
Things were so seemingly simple
Three words can’t express all I felt
But I loved you – sweetly, completely

And I walked it alone
I soon found myself foolishly falling
And lately the nights get so long
As I’m trying to forget you in my way

Of trying to let go
But how can I ever get you off my mind
If you refuse to just tell me goodbye?
And gone are those days
So why must you hold on?
Please convince yourself I’ll be alright
Just pretend tears won’t fall from my eyes

As cold as I feel
Your most heartfelt embrace couldn’t warm me
Don’t say what we had wasn’t real
Because I still feel the burning

And my whole world’s crashing down
How did we go from dancing to dying?
I know we can’t simply turn things around
So leave me crying, relieved as I’m flying away

And trying to let go
But how can I ever get you off my mind
If you refuse to just tell me goodbye?
And gone are those days
So why must you hold on?
Please convince yourself I’ll be alright
Just pretend tears won’t fall from my eyes...

Love the criminal. Hate the crime.

Let's start out by stating the obvious: shit happens. We all like to think that life is a bunch of rainbows and lollipops but sometimes things get rough. Things will not go the way we'd like them to. Promises will get broken. People will disappoint you. Few things in this life are guaranteed, but make sure you look out for that one...

At a certain point, we come to expect so much from each other. It's the pitfall of relationships. I'm not just talking about romantic relationships, but relationships in general - between people. We begin to trust, admire and love, and somewhere along the line we place people on this pedestal of invicibility. We even become naive enough to think they'll never come down. Of course this isn't to say people don't belong there. We come into each others' lives for a reason, and everything fits together as part of some larger plan. Something we may not even be able to see at the time, but all the while still just as satisfied as if we knew the whole story. Let's take Ray Lewis for example (there's a bigger point here...this isn't a blog about keeping #52 in Baltimore). This man has literally shed blood, sweat and tears since coming to the Ravens back in'96. He's taken us to the playoffs several times, a Superbowl win once, and has become the epicenter of a perennial defensive threat in the NFL. Now he's on the brink of becoming an unrestricted free agent. Let's not get it twisted - Ray made a name for himself in Baltimore. But when he starts considering maxing out what's left in his career - which may or may not be with Baltimore - people start getting antsy. I can't lie...I'd be disappointed if Ray left. Wouldn't even hide it. But I wouldn't hate Ray. I'd hate the fact that he isn't here. I'd hate that he retires wearing a color other than purple. But that wouldn't change what he did for this city.

So onto my point. We reserve these very few spaces in our heart for very special people. We never want to believe that these are the people that will let us down. They'll never forget to put gas in the car. Never drink all the orange juice. They'll always be on time. Always be a phone call away. Always be a shoulder to cry on...and will never make us cry. But the truth of the matter is: they might. And what happens if they do? I've learned you don't hate them for who they are, but for what they did...because you told yourself they wouldn't. Moreover because you don't hate them at all. I'm not saying don't set these expectations of someone. It's good to dream, and you can always make a better story in your heart than the one you're living. But once you get to that level the bar is always high, and the price is always steep.

Sure, love is a strong word...but sometimes it's not strong enough.

Everyone's a story

I was walking through the mall today and thinking to myself how amazing we are as people. How many stories or different lifestyles or paths people can take. I saw two lesbians kissing on the escalator (or at least one of them was a lesbian). Didn't do much for me, but not something you see everyday. I also saw a man walking through the mall with a garden hose. Where he was going or coming from with that garden hose I don't know (and don't really want to know), but I'm sure it's an interesting story. Then I started thinking about my own life. I've sliced two fingers open baking a cake. A pipe burst and flooded my room the night before my 27th birthday. I've cut a piece of my hand off doing a cutlery presentation. Two of my friends from high school have been shot and killed, and we haven't even gotten to our 10 year reunion. I watched my parents' divorce eat away at my mother at the age of 6. All the decisions I regret, mistakes I've made, times I've laughed and times I've cried. Everyone has that. Each person you see...I think it's amazing how many different permutations of life are being led in this day and age. All the steps you've taken that someone else hasn't. And vice versa. It is truly phenomenal. I'll leave you with that.

The Speakeasy Will Win (cont'd)

I hate my doctor. Please refer to my earlier blog about eating healthy. This woman has now made me paranoid. She says I’m extremely healthy, but I need to eat 9 servings of fruits and vegetables a day. I told her she might see 4 or 5 tops out of me. No one eats like that. Then she tells me I have high blood pressure. That’s because this chick is stressing me out. If you had caught me before selling that foolishness about 9 fruits and vegetables BP is a lock to be quite low. Now…9 fruits and veggies…high blood pressure. I don’t have time for that. Pass the burger.

Oh, and the latest: I’m 6 pounds overweight. If anyone has ever seen me, you’d know that the words “over” and “weight” together should never be used to describe me. Now I look at myself in the mirror thinking “you fat fuck.” Ok not really but I could. And I actually lost weight since the last time I was there! So I had the potential of being 12 lbs overweight. Now I’m only 6 (phew). But what this does is it makes me think thrice about everything I eat. The Oreos I had earlier this afternoon…probably could’ve sat that one out. Mama Illardos pizza…I had two slices today, each of which may represent one less year I get to live. Fuck it. The way I see it, if my number is called in the middle of a meal, I’d much rather be eating a cheesesteak than a broccoli pop. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not going to subject my body to fat and grease and eat McDonald’s all the time…at least not in excess. Moderation is key here. But if I feel like a burger then guess what I’m going to eat…an f’ing burger. The doc can kiss my ass.

Speakeasy 2, Doctor 0.