Close me up and pull the lid tight...I don't want any air getting through.

Looking for a glimmer of light

in the nightmarish dark of life

is not a way

to approach

each day

but it's happening.

Even when you win

you lose...again.

Sometimes saying something

just to avoid the silence

is the worse idea imaginable.

You can take a day off

to lie in bed and do nothing

but it only makes

things worse.

Compiling,

complacent,

you just avoid

getting up.

Your sick days

are shit days

and no shower is ever going to wash them off.

Even when you win, you lose

It's so pathetic that politics must seep into everything. Something that is supposed to be so innocent and fun as the Corporate Challenge has been befouled.

Recently, my team competed in the trivia portion of the challenge and won the bronze medal. Not only did I hear grown men quarreling over answers, but also pouting like little babies with their little baby lips stuck out. You're a grown man! You're a major financial force in this town!Grow up!

So, apparently, the powers that be wanted to take away our medal and points because there was "confusion." When our liaison asked them to explain confusion, they could not.

Also, my agency won the executive relay by a landslide but were not awarded the gold. They later received points for it, but the agency that should have received silver points got to keep their gold points.

Regardless, my agency is still number one in the corporate challenge standings and I hope to be at the end as well.

It's just too bad that some of the largest employers in town have to get butt-hurt over losing fair-and-square. Do you think you deserve some type of special treatment? Do you think you deserve more than the rest of us? I know how to settle it. A foot race. Yeah, the 5K. Bring your "A" game, but don't expect to crawl like the babies you have been acting like and get a medal.

I am the little man, the other man, the one you fear. Initially, it was about fun until you got tired of sitting in your soiled diaper and made a fuss.

Now it's about showing you that even when you think you've won...you lose.

A Pilot Light Ignites, but for What?

Sometimes I'll start writing a blog for an unclear reason and finish writing about something completely different. That may happen today.

I was enjoying my non labor time on Labor Day yesterday by flipping through the channels on television. I stopped on MSNBC when I saw our president giving a speech in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Lately, all I have heard about in the news is Obama's inability to enact anything and how is approval rating decreases slightly each week. That's great news to all those piece of shit journalists that make their money by running any trash that is going to cause a stink. I am not one of those cockroaches. I must get back on track here.

I'm watching the segment of the speech when Obama inserts that campaign anecdote about the little woman in South Carolina at the town hall meeting when Obama running for the presidency was still considered a joke who supplied inspiring words.

Obama was wet, tired, and not taken seriously, and here he was at 8 a.m. in a room of about 30 people listening to a woman chant "Fire it up, fire it up, fire it up." Obama indeed got fired up. And kicked major campaign ass. His message was one person can influence a group, one group a town, one town a state, and one state a nation.

What are you fired up about? Or better yet, what fires you up? Is it change? Is it self-inflicted drama? Is it adversity? Is it complacency? What will it be today that makes life worth living for you?

Spring to your Feet

I started having night terrors in middle school, or at least that's when I became aware of them and could rule out nightmares. For those of you that don't know, night terrors are psychotic smash ups of dream and hallucinations that come about in mid sleep. Normally, the terrorer is awoken with extreme fright and anxiety due to an immediate false doom-thus the terror. In most cases my terrors related to insects and snakes covering my bed or my room and I have to get out immediately.

Sometimes I would wake up and rip my covers off the bed and the pillows too, or I would run out of the room. In any case my heart pounds as adrenaline surges through my body and I have to catch my breath.

Last night at 3:30 I had a night terror. In a dead sleep I dreamt that I could see through the eyes of something entering my house and making its way to my bedroom. Terrified I sprang from bed and wrapped my blanket and sheet around my arm in one motion. I swung open the door to meet this entity head on in the hallway. Seconds later I realized that I was standing alone in the hallway with my blankets wrapped around my arm, heart pounding in the middle of a night terror. I calmly walked back to my room, fixed my covers, and lied down in bed. Whom or what it was I can't say. It was something. I haven't been that scared in awhile. The last terror I had I just sat up and felt as though I was having a heart attack. But this one was different. I was scared, but ready to face what ever it was trying enter MY bedroom. What can I face today?

More to Loathe is more like it

To FOX:

The comment has been made before that I don't like fat people. That's totally false. I love Santa Claus, The Nutty Professor, and Curly of the Three Stooges. Wait...all those people are fictional? Hmm, then don't take me seriously. I live to make people laugh and everyone deserves to be made fun of at some point in their life. I am a perpetual roast.

Now to the business at hand:

This new show "More to Love," has turned my stomach. I know, I know, the premise is that everyone has a chance for love, but this is exploitation.

You take one heavy set gentleman and supply him with a gaggle of heavy set women in hopes that true love will strike in the allotted weeks for filming.

This is what I noticed last night. These women have self esteem issues. Then, you put them in a contest where they are eliminated from the others for not being pretty or personable enough. Great, so they are no longer compared to skinny people, but now they are told they are not better than people of their own size. Way to go Hollywood. Has anyone killed themselves yet over being rejected on a reality show? Prepare yourself. You might be the first.

In addition Fox, you are perpetuating stereotypes. What does male suitor come home to from the ladies trying to woo him? A platter of nasty fluorescent colored cup cakes. What does one lady ask? "What's the way to a man's heart...through his stomach."

Gross me out. I will never eat another cupcake knowing that heavy hunk passed out that night frosting spackled on his face and crumbs on his stretched out wife beater.

Big people need love too, but do you have to parade them around like cows at the county fair for our enjoyment? I changed to Bizzare Foods, a show where the host eats foods that might be considered disgusting by our culture. Tell me there is irony in that.

Never will you know

I turned the light off in the living room last night before I went to bed at the end of a whirlwind day and noticed a couple of extra clicks.

The extra clicks resulted from the insignificant detail of the light requiring more clicks to turn it off that occurs ever-s0-often.

What is it?

Chance.

The tiny gears and tumblers turning and just happening to skip over the right slot to turn the light off all playing out randomly. So randomly operating in such a contrived device.

Don't we want it?

Don't we want everything to be in our control. Don't we want it all manufactured for a specific reason?

But we don't do we?

We never do.

Instead, life sparks and fires, and cools and goes out. And sometimes it takes 100 clicks to turn the light out and sometimes it comes on all by itself.

Luck?

Chance?

Design by a master?

Click it off tonight and listen for the extra click to see how many it took, but for what?

You Must Surrender

Some of you may not be aware that I have a heady past. At one time I was touring with Phish, had dreadlocks, and engaged in a drum circle or two.

That time of my life is over, but some aspects still remain. I will always love Phish. I experienced feelings with the music that I did not think were possible. And I'm not talking about just popping in The Moma Dance and getting down. I mean pure ecstasy. I don't know how else to explain it, but here it goes:

Some unforeseen force navigated some friends and I into Bacchus Friday night. Let me clarify. We had been there the night before thinking the band was going to be there, but wasn't. So, we sucked it up and tried again. The band was Namaste. They are a mix of blues, Zappa, Umphrey's, and Phish. Their original songs were impressive. Istrumentally, these guys kick ass. And the vocals weren't bad either. The band eventually covered Phish. And not whimpo songs like Heavy Things. Namaste went right for the throat, busting out flawless versions of Harry Hood and Mike's Song. It was somewhere during Hood that it happened. I surrendered. I let go of it all and felt it all. And I was in a bar in Owensboro. I looked over at Daniel and he had as well.

For one; you must surrender. You must be aware of everything and everyone around you, but you must also detach. The all becomes the one and you are every part of it. The music must move you and you within it.

Don't worry, I'm not going on the road anymore. And I'm not nattying my hair back up. I was just able to feel it all again and it was bliss. So let go. Let go. Let go.

Completely unrelated...As soon as Phish releases fall tour dates and Cincinnati is released I'm so raging there.