A rant

A few minutes on facebook can be a laugh or two. While I'd much rather have live, in person interaction with people who have shared parts of my life with me, be they friends or relatives, that's not always possible. Say what you want about facebook, but it is a nice way of staying in touch with people who mean something to me.

What I can do without however, is the guilt-inducing pictures and status updates. You know what I'm talking about? I can do without pictures of any examples of animal cruelty and a tag line that says something like like this status/picture if you think animal cruelty should be a felony - give me a flippin' break already. Of fucking course I hate animal cruelty. If I witnessed this kind of thing out in the real world, and make no mistake here people, there is a real world out there, with real people doing real things, I would act on my senses to either stop it or see that the person responsible was brought to justice. Acting on what I know is wrong on behalf of a defenseless animal probably does not mean clicking the "like" button on a social networking site and posting it on my page to prove that I want something done about it.

The same goes for pictures of children with cancer or some other God awful disease that none of us think is fair, nor can we find a way to explain it. It's awful, it shouldn't be that way and of course it bothers us. It may be closer to home for some of us than others - it may be home for some of us. Enough with the fucking sad pictures that guilt you into hitting the fucking like button and thinking that doing so will result in anything good. It's as if someone is saying "Isn't this sad? Doesn't this make you sad? If you said 'yes, it makes me sad', hit the like button and post it on your wall to prove it. Fuck you. And if you're bothered by my dropping the f-bomb a few times in this post, fucking get over it - because this kind of passive, pseudo-activism does more than make me sad. It pisses me off.

It pisses me off that some idiot out there thinks it's a good idea to post something like this as some sort of way to get people to prove that they have a conscious, a heart or a sense of empathy. Give me a fucking break. What do the idiots who originate this crap expect me to think? That if I don't click the like button and/or put it on my wall that I don't have any of those attributes? I'm waiting for the day some brain donor posts something like "Like this sad photo/fact or facebook will delete your account for your lack of decency/empathy/heart" - fuck you. You wanna know why I'm okay with dropping f-bombs on this subject? Because it pisses me off that you're asking me if something sad and unjustifiable towards another human or an animal bothers me. Sometimes there are stupid questions. Stop fucking asking them.

What do you want me to think, that there's some blue and white facebook van driving around neighborhoods like the Publisher's Clearing House van, that if enough people like and share your fucking sad photo, it'll result in said van stopping by the sick child's home, the poor dog's street or the veteran's house and saving the day? Fuck you. I don't know about you, but the only place I've ever seen a Publisher's Clearing House van, is on television. Matter of fact, I don't know anyone, nor do I know anyone who knows anyone, who has ever seen this van. If I did ever see one of these vans, I'd follow the fucker and take pictures to prove it. I don't believe one even exists - nor do I believe that posting disturbing photos with a disclaimer demanding I click like and share proves anything or does any real good. I think the next time I see one of these disturbing picture posts, I'm going to share it with the disclaimer Click like and share this if you think the bonehead who posted this and says you should like and share this should be banned from facebook - facebook says if we get a bazillion likes they will ban this asshole and fine them a million dollars". Dammit! I gotta run - the Publisher's Clearing House Van is driving down my street. I have a conscious. I have a pretty big heart and a sense of empathy. Clicking like and/or sharing something on a social networking site is not something I need to do to prove that. Have a great day people!

Knuckles...semantics

Talking with my nephew after Thanksgiving dinner was a laugh. He was telling me about a concert he went to and said the following:

Nephew: The singer from the band knuckle-touched me

Me: He what you?

Nephew: Knuckle-touched, he knuckle-touched me.

Me: What's knuckle-touching - you mean fist-bump?

Nephew: Yeah, same thing.

Me: I dunno - I've never heard the term knuckle-touching, fist bump...sure, I know what that is. Knuckle touching sounds like something some perv would get in trouble from Child Services for doing - like big trouble, hard time...you know, have to register with the authorites wherever he lives from now on kinda trouble.
"Can you show us on the doll where he knuckle-touched you?...Do you feel safe at home? Does anyone try to knuckle-touch you?...are you afraid of being knuckle-touched?...You know that knuckle-touching is wrong right?...it's not your fault, you can tell us if someone tries to....

Nephew (laughing): Yeah...I got it, it does sound kinda creepy.

Me: It sounds VERY creepy, you kidding??

This became a running joke the rest of the visit - and for the record, I still think it's hilarious. Then again, no one has ever tried to knuckle touch me. Fist bump, well...yeah, a time or two. I have another friend who is one of my coworkers, sometimes one of my bosses. She has a thing where you think she's going to fist-bump you, but instead she grabs your fist. I think she was confused, maybe trying to be hip - but I can't say for sure. She asked me once, "What's that fist bump that I do called?", to which I jokingly replied, "Awkward." I think I'd really rather people just shake hands. Oh well, what do I know?

Thankful!

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, the day before that was my birthday. Lots to be thankful for and lately my mantra is to be thankful every day, at least for something. Take a minute or two and give thought to someone or something that I'm grateful for. Funny thing is, when I do that, I always start thinking of loads of other things to be grateful for. Try it, it works.

I had a great birthday and the best part about it was that quite a few people took a minute to wish me happy birthday, whether it was in person, via phone and yes, via social networking. Each and every message I got only made the day that much better, so I'm grateful for all of them.

I had a wonderful Thanksgiving with family yesterday, and while the table wasn't as crowded as it has been on some Thanksgivings, it was wonderful - both the company and the food. I could go on about how much I enjoyed joking around with my family, but I'd rather just bask in the glow of a very enjoyable holiday and hope that others enjoyed their holiday as much as we enjoyed ours.

I got a very nice and completely unexpected text message from a former coworker yesterday too. I never talk to this guy these days and I was completely surprised to get a text from him telling me that he was thankful to have me as a friend and wishing me Happy Thanksgiving. That's nice all by itself, but then he thanked me for showing him everything he knows about bartending!

I don't think I'm the greatest bartender out there, but am aware of the fact that I do my job well for a number of reasons. My friend went on to say that he paid a lot of attention to how I did things back there and I thought it was really nice for him to say as much.

There you have it, a nice thankful post - minus my often sarcastic and smart ass take on things. I'm not going shopping on this Black Friday and I'm very grateful to work hours that allow me to shop when it's less crowded. I'll take deals when I can get 'em and be glad for them. I can do without the mass merchandising/marketing circus that the holidays have become. All I want out of the holidays as a grown man, is to be able to spend some time with people who mean something to me and I'm grateful to have so many people like that in my life. Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving, Happy Holidays!

The wisdom of the blues

A friend once told me that blues music was nothing but songs about a good man feeling bad. Said he was a good man feeling good and he didn't want to hear the blues. I disagree with that statement, at least in part. While there's more than a little bit of truth to the statement, the blues is so much more than that. For starters, somehow it feels better to sing about being melancholy than it does to simply talk about it - try it. Somehow the singing about it is really overcoming it and putting it behind you.

If you have any trouble getting your head/mind wrapped around that concept, not to worry - the lesson/pattern will be repeated. The blues is about repetition. Fine, don't listen - then I'll have to say it again. For those of you still wondering what I'm talking about, imagine any of the following scenarios:

1) A man or a woman troubled by:

              a) a car that keeps breaking down
              b) Man drinks too much, has no job
              c) Woman spends too much, complains a lot

Mind you I just pulled all of the above things out of thin air, not trying to offend anyone here, but let us imagine that our blues singer would lament over any or all of those things. I'll do the same thing with some on-the-spot-created lyrics here, keeping a tune in mind and hopefully maintaining at least some poetic meter:

Try to start my car, don't know what's wrong with it
Try start my car, don't know what's wrong with it
Get me a sputter or two, but then the motor just up and quit

Got a big junkyard, only a mile away
Yes there a big junkyard, only a mile away
But to push my car there gonna take me half the day

Ever been there? Hasn't everyone? What the hell? When I turn my key in the ignition, the motor is supposed to start. Not today - well, it started up...only to quit. I'm a little disappointed, so I entertain thoughts of taking the car to the junkyard, leaving it there for someone else to deal with - but then reality sets in and I realize that I'd have to push the car there. Oh Lord, I got them blues...'bout this car.
Why? It's messin' up my day.

Now take the unemployed dude with a bad habit - which might have a thing or two to do with his having no job (obvi)

Done told him once, won't say it again
Man got no job an he stank like gin
Said I told him once won't say it again...

Look man, your woman has told you before that she isn't happy with your drinking and not having a job - but you don't listen. You're still drinkin' and you still have no job. Oh Lord, she got them blues. Sooner or later, you're gonna have 'em too. She shouldn't have to tell you twice man, once should be enough - but it isn't.

Just listen would you? It won't take long before someone says, "One more time..." - but it won't be once more, more likely two or three more times - which is cool, because someone out there probably isn't paying attention. Shit need reviewed. That's what I'm talkin' about. You'll wonder what they talkin' 'bout - don't worry, they'll tell you. Because it feels good to sing about it, they'll tell you again too. Righteous. Tell it.

What about the woman who spends and complains? Thought you'd never ask, check it out:

Well here come my baby in her brand new Caddy, but she out of cash, come home to daddy
Baby flat broke nothin' good to say, got her pretty hand out for my take home pay
Ten, twenty dollar for my girl today kiss my cheek but then she drive away

Aw man, here she comes - driving up in her brand new car that I bought her. I think I'm glad to see her - but she doesn't look happy. What's wrong baby? Money? You need money? Here baby, here's some money...hey wait, where you goin'?

...or something like that. Any and all of those things would be a real drag to go through, not much fun to talk about, but if someone is singing about those things, it becomes soothing. If indeed the blues were nothing but songs about a good man feeling bad, people wouldn't be dancing in blues clubs. You wouldn't see a smile in the place. Nah man, the blues is about overcoming anyone and anything, any place that gives you the blues - it's gonna get better, it always does...always will. Dig?

Junk...

Junk - and by junk, I mean junk mail. By mail, I mean snail mail or email, and both annoy the daylights outta me. There are days when the email variety really gets me - because then I don't even have the luxury (?) of walking it to the recycle bin and bypassing the crap even getting into my home. Nope, this stuff has already made it to my desk and is right in front of me. Huh? I didn't ask for this shit!

Meanwhile, this being an election year, the fliers from both sides of the fence have multiplied like rabbits. Every day there is a pile of crap in my mailbox that is all of the following:  a) Nothing I'm interested in b) Nothing I signed up for c) annoying d) now my responsibility to dispose of. None of this seems right. It's also easy to lose important pieces of mail in the stack of things - so I do have to go through it to make sure I'm not throwing anything important away. Imagine a total stranger walking up to you on the street and handing you a stack of fliers. They tell you there might be something of yours that you want to keep in the stack, might be a thing or two you're interested in - then again, there may not be. The second the pile of crap is in your hands, they let go and immediately start walking away from you - goes a little like this:

You: Hey! I'm not sure I want ANY of this stuff

Stranger, turning around but still walking away: Yeah, neither am I...I mean I thought you might want to see some of it, maybe all of it, maybe none of it...there might be some important stuff in there - you know, a new credit card or an inheritance check....beats me.

You: No man, there's nothing here that interests me - I don't want this pile of stuff!

Stranger - yelling over his/her shoulder: Yeah, go ahead and throw it away then would you? Mind tossing it in a recycle bin? Go ahead and do the same thing tomorrow when the next shipment comes, k? Just take it, okay man?Thanks!

Why is a pile of junk that I didn't ask for to begin with suddenly my responsibility to do something with? If you threw trash on your neighbor's lawn and he saw you do it, he's probably going to tell you to clean it up and not to do that again. You should respect that. I get it - I'm not naive enough to think that anything will ever be done to stop this kind of thing and I suppose I get the whole logic of throwing a fist full of stones at a tree and knowing that at least some of them will hit it, but this is annoying.

Again, the email variety of this kind of stuff really bugs me - especially the numerous emails I received from The Catholic Association in the weeks leading up to the election. Dig how they start out:

Dear Fellow Catholic,

Who, me? You've got the wrong guy - you're way off. These emails had a very biased message that was blatantly trying to influence my vote - and like practically all things Catholic, there's a lot of guilt...implied/assumed...no thank you. The last email I read from them had them complaining about the mere possibility of government having any say in influencing who they might fire and/or hire - yet at the same time they were clearly trying to tell me who I should vote for. If that same complete stranger called out to me on the street, "Hey! Fellow Catholic...." if I even looked to see if he was talking to me, I'd walk the other way if he was. If he persisted, I'd tell him I'm not Catholic. If he asked me if I'd like to be Catholic, I'd tell him no...but if I did want to become a Catholic, I know where I could go to make it happen. Dear Fellow Catholic...really? You know what they say about assuming. I'm not trying to offend anyone here, Catholic or otherwise. Just saying.

Of course it can't be that simple/Unauthorized leave

I'm a dog owner, though the past year and a half of owning my current dog has been a tad reluctant. Some of the reasoning behind that is because my last dog was perfect. It's not that I want to compare Bentley, the dog I have now, to any other dog - let's just say that my last dog allowed for the perfect dog/owner experience for the entire 11 years I had her. Bentley has his good points - but he is constantly on the watch for any sign, however small and insignificant it may appear to me, that if he seizes the opportunity before him he will, at last, achieve alpha-dog status. As my good friend Oscar would say, Mi huevos. It's me who walks upright, puts food in his dish, takes care of him and the various and sundry things a dog owner signs up for that...well, no one likes to think about. It's me who takes him outside - unless of course we're talking about the other night when he decided to make a break for it and leave while I was at work. Crawled his lanky 65 lbs out a window that I didn't think he could get out of and aside for the tell-tale screen in front of the window on the ground, left nary a sign of his departure.

I'll be honest with you people:  If I could find a good home for this lanky beast, I'd bid him a fond farewell. While he's got his good points, it's a bit like having a party guest that everyone knows likes to steal things from people at parties - they may be somewhat enjoyable to have around for various reasons, but it's impossible to keep your mind off of the likelihood that they're going to take something of yours if you take your eyes off of them for long enough.

Bentley has been my dog for nearly three years now - the rules haven't changed, yet nearly every day he seems to think that they will change and it is his responsibility to watch for indications that he's getting a leg up on this whole gonna-be-an-alpha-dog-someday dream and act upon them. Mi huevos.

This month has had Spring arriving early - and some days have had Spring saying that Summer rode with it and was just getting a gift from the car trunk and would be along any minute. And so it was last Thursday when I went to work and thought I could leave my windows open a bit with the fan blowing and get some circulation of fresh air in the place. My windows are about two feet off of the ground and like any dog tall enough to see outside, Bentley does a lot of looking out said windows. Although the windows were barely open a foot - if that, at some point last Thursday, Bentley decided to go out for a bit - right through the window. I have no idea what time it was when he reached this decision - I was at work and while he was ambitious and smart enough to knock the screen out and leave, he is neither considerate nor smart enough to leave a note....

Master: went outside to sniff around, do my business wherever I wanted, chase a cat or a squirrel...maybe bark at a few things around the hood. back when/if I flippin' feel like it.

While I certainly didn't expect a note, neither did I expect to come home after midnight to one of the screens being knocked out and no sight of the face that greets me every time I come home in the window. Perhaps he's sleeping and hasn't heard me arriving home? That was what I thought as I turned the key and opened the door. No dog. For a brief second, I thought I would hear him get up on the kitchen floor and come running to greet me. Wrong.

In an instant my thoughts went to hoping that nothing bad happened to him - and a feeling of relief that if he had found another home...I'd be fine with that. Since it was after midnight when I got home, I couldn't call the dog warden to see if they picked him up. I walked up and down the parking lot, listening in the still of the night for any sound that might give up his whereabouts...nothing. I got back in my car and drove the loop around the neighborhood I sometimes walk with him...no Bentley. Once again I'll say that my hope was that nothing bad happened to him, but I had work to do with the writing class I'd started last week and a call to the dog warden would simply have to wait until morning. If anyone called, I'd say I was doing homework. If they asked about my dog, I'd say he was out...not sure what time he'll be back.

I'm not gonna lie - my imagination got the best of me and I thought he found a new home, though I knew that it just couldn't be that simple. I've had people talk about adopting this dog and once I even had a friend's daughter offer me $200 for him...and I've had moments where I'd take $199.95 less than that amount and throw in every dog accessory I have laying around this place. Again, it can't be that simple.

So I finish my work and call it a night. He's gone, I hope nothing bad happened to him. I don't know what time it was when I woke up Friday morning - perhaps around 4, not sure, but I thought I heard a dog barking. A bit foggy as I walked through the living room, opened the door and matter-of-fact say, "Bentley." - a few seconds later I hear my new next door neighbor walking up and Bentley coming up the walkway. Maybe he was out with the neighbor, though it might have been nice for one of them to let me know. You wanna go live with the neighbor? Don't let the door hit you on the tail when you leave. Bentley can't seem to understand why I'm not glad to see him - after all he's glad to see me. Translation: wow - it's not as easy out here as I thought, I mean sure I can go wherever I want, sniff around all I want, but I couldn't find anything good to eat and no place comfortable to sleep...

He's home, we'll discuss this when I wake up. I don't know where he's been - damn dog is neutered (though he refuses to believe this) and he didn't stink of booze, skunk or rolling in anything. There isn't a mark on him...fine. Save your tail wagging buddy, you'll exist the rest of your days on a very short leash...maybe even while you're in the house - but as I said, all of this will wait until morning, and yes, I'm shutting the window. Want me to leave it open for you? Allow me to remove your collar and tags first....

In the morning Bentley looks at me with wanting eyes, eyes that say he wants to go out. Eyes that show a love of outside  and a world of freedom. Outside? But of course, once I have my first cup of coffee. Freedom? Mi huevos.

While relieved that nothing bad came of my dog's night out, I can't help but feel a bit like the Kings of Comedy routine where one of the comedians, Bernie Mac, I think, says something about how black people wish for things to happen - as in, Shoot, I wish he WOULD have tried to HIT me, so I could eff his ass UP! - I go about my morning and afternoon looking at Bentley as he watches me excitedly every time I open the window a bit or go outside and I think, Shoot I wish you WOULD jump out the window and run away - so I can lock your ass OUT. Alas, it is not that simple. He's home - and grounded.

Red Envelopes

I've run the bar at a Thai restaurant for a little over three years now. When I first started this job it was a struggle adjusting to how things were done on a regular basis - and it still is a challenge, to say the least. Things are done differently here and no one believes the stories I tell them about how this place operates. Now I'm at the tail end of my employment with this place and I've come to realize that it is what it is. These people simply have a different way of doing things. It works for them, but at the same time it doesn't. This is always a source of amusement for me, even in retrospect.

Having said that, these people have endeared themselves to me and I know the feeling is mutual. They've also shared their culture and family values with me and for those things I'm eternally grateful. I find it completely heartwarming when my employers and their kids show me that I've made a favorable impact on them. Things like the owner's wife telling me that whenever she has her 8 and 10 year old daughters with her when she comes in, they always ask her if I'm working and they always come up to the bar and joke around with me or ask me to draw something or help them with their homework. Melts my heart every time. Then there was the time the owner's wife told me that a woman I was dating was very mean - which I took offense to because she never even spoke to this woman. I asked her why she would say something like that to me without even saying hello to her. Her response:

"I tell you because you have the very big heart - very big heart and you don't think about that."

While I'll always have an issue with someone judging another person without knowing anything about what that person's journey is like, she made her point to me because she was telling me that she noticed things about me and up to that point I hadn't given a thought that she paid much attention to me. I joked with her that my heart wasn't very big at all and that I'm pretty mean. She was having none of that:

"You don't fool me. Why you think my kids always come running up to you when they come here, they always say you so funny and want to know if you working, if you will juggle lemons or make pictures for them? Because you have the very big heart. Kids know that about you, I can see. You listen to me, I tell something important - your heart is very big and you need to value that."

There have been many times she's made remarks like this to me, but that particular evening sticks in my mind with absolute clarity because she grabbed my wrist when I replied to her and stopped me to make her points.

I've been blessed to be exposed to the culture that is so different than mine too. I find it fascinating, deep and very moving - things like the way they see New Year's as a huge celebration and the thought they put behind it. Every year they give their employees a red envelope with money in it. What strikes me as meaningful - and much more than the money, is that the envelope itself just seems like to hold it in your hand, you're holding a thought someone has about you. That may sound a bit melodramatic, but the envelopes I've been given are beautiful - never mind what has been inside them, particularly nowadays when we live in a time where the majority of children won't experience the warmth of getting a letter or a card in the mail.

I have all but one red envelope I've been given - and the one that ended up being thrown away was pretty much an accident. I still remember the first one they gave me - I held it in my hand and couldn't stop thinking about how powerful the thought behind this seemed to me, and I hadn't even opened it to know what was inside. I watched my coworkers open envelopes, count the money inside and let the envelope drop to the ground or they would crumple it up and leave it on the bar or toss it in the trash can. I suppose the logic is not unlike the logic I had as a child when I opened a birthday card or a Christmas card before I opened a gift - gestures like that may have meant little to me as a child but for the fact that I was raised to know the value of a sincere thank you when anyone gave me a gift or did anything nice for me. I wasn't just told to say thank you, I was taught to sincerely mean it - and if my mother thought a thank you from me, or my sisters wasn't sincere, not only did we not get whatever it was that someone wanted to give us, we were talked to about why a thank you is so important.

I know the little red envelopes are just pieces of paper, but I can't get away from the thought behind them. I'm not saying I save every Christmas or birthday card I get - I don't, though I do read them and give thought to what someone is saying to me. I have these envelopes on my bulletin board and I keep them because it just feels like I'm actually looking at someone taking the time to think of me - again, never mind what was in them.

As much as I joke around about how different the place is and how it could change for the better - and I don't mean simply for my benefit, these people have welcomed me into their culture and their way of looking at things and doing things, much of which is quite different than my own. They're not going to change this for me any more than I would change for them - it's taken me this long to see that what they want here is simply to show me that we can coexist.

A little over two years ago, one of the lead guys in the kitchen passed away. I'll never forget how painful his funeral was for all of us. I'll never forget how helpless I felt seeing my boss and his wife so heartbroken. My boss is almost always smiling, but on this day he was too sad to say a word and I could see that he'd been crying a lot over the days leading up to this service. I'll never forget what his wife said to all of us before we left the funeral home that day:

"Please listen everybody - we will see Papa John off and send him on his way. It's very important we leave all the sadness in this room, we can't take it outside with us. Please say goodbye for now and leave all your sadness for Papa John going away from us, say goodbye and leave all the sadness in this room okay?"

I thought about how days before Papa John passed, I complimented him on his hat - a red Chinese newspaper boy hat. The next night when I came into the kitchen, he walked up to me and handed me a bag with a hat just like his in it. I asked him what it was for and he looked at me and said it was for me, what did I think it was for? I asked him why and he said it was because I told him I liked the hat. In an instant that thought made it easy to leave my sadness in the room all of us were leaving. In that instant it became easy to see that Papa John was now in a better place after a life of hard work and being sick that took him from the people who loved him.

Two weeks later, I walked in the kitchen and John's older brother, Sam was working the line just as his brother did - only for a brief moment, my heart skipped because he moved just like John did. I used to bust both of them outside smoking during slower times at work. If I saw them outside with their back to me smoking, I'd sneak up behind them and tell them they needed to quit smoking because it wasn't good for them. This became a bit of a game.

I'm writing about all of this now because days ago I worked my fourth Chinese New Year party. This one was wonderful and completely heartwarming. It's amazing to see three different cultures of people come together as a bit of a family and it made me realize how small this world really is. Perhaps my favorite memory of this night was getting to see Sam after nearly a year of not seeing him. I was sad to hear him tell me he'd been sick with asthma. Sam quickly turned this around and told me that he quit smoking and how he never forgot how I always told him I wanted him to quit. He told me that he always used to get angry at me for telling him to quit, but now he said he knows why I told him that every time I saw him smoking - which was alot:

Me: why do you think I always told you to quit?

Sam: I know you told me because you are my friend. Thank you for telling me. I quit, I don't smoke now no more!

So now here I am about to stop working at this place again and knowing that for all the craziness this place can be, I'm actually a bit sad because there are wonderful people here and I've had some wonderful experiences in this place. I'm probably the most picky man on the planet with the food in a place like this - but now I associate the things I do like about this kind of food with some memories that I hope I will always have. There you have it - this is why I can't bring myself to throw away some little red envelopes. Silly isn't it?