amazing video

This is beautiful...just beautiful

Happy Thanksgiving

I feel the following video gives insight into the family that raised me and has had a huge impact on making me who I am.

This "Thanksgiving Celebration" occurred the day before Turkey Day at my parents house.

Enjoy...

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

This makes me happy

This will make you happier than you are now...

You are welcome...

The complexities of irony

So my friend and I are at our bar for our weekly fluid intake. I am nursing a Fat Tire as I am being lectured on how Alabama football is mentioned in the Bible somewhere and even though Tim Tebow is a nice Christian boy, it does not mean my friend would not take advantage if he had the opportunity to run him over with a H2. I am not paying much attention because I have heard this argument at least once a week since 2006 and because I am listening to the music being played over the speakers. I find myself bobbing my head to the beat and luckily I stop myself before I begin to sing along. I stop because I am ashamed.

Maybe it is the alcohol from the previous 3 beers or because I feel that I can say about anything to my friend of over 20 years, but I stop him mid-sentence to make a confession. "I just love Christina Aguilera."

My friend about spits out his Vodka Tonic. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me, I think Christina Aguilera can sing so much better than Brittany Spears and I think she is overlooked. Just listen. This is an amazing song."

"Seriously...you just said that. You. You who listen to the most obscure Indie bands out there."

"Yeah, I'm not proud of it. But what can I say? It's a guilty pleasure. Everyone has them."

My friend nods in agreement and then proceeds to look around the bar to see if anyone is listening. He leans over to whisper, "I have a guilty pleasure too. I really like John Denver and Barry Manilow."

I begin to laugh. "Those aren't guilty pleasures. They are too ironic and obscure to be a guilty pleasure."

"What do you mean? No one really listens to Barry Manilow under the age of 40."

"That is exactly why he can't be a guilty pleasure. Because no one listens to Barry Manilow then there is no reason why you should be ashamed to like him. As a matter of fact, you have more cred because no one listens to it. It's ironic."

My friend told me to shut up and continued to discuss why the Anti-Christ will be a Florida Gator.

As a result of that conversation, I feel the need to define guilty pleasure and irony and how they work. I might be wrong, but I don't think so.

A "guilty pleasure" is something, be it music, food, clothes, television, etc., that you enjoy that you would not like to admit to others out of fear as to how you would then be seen in their eyes. I will be discussing music primarily. You feel that their view of you would decrease as a result of learning that you like your guilty pleasure. This is not a question of what you like, but how others view what you like.

This is an important distinction to make. I feel in some ways you are not in control of what you like. I have tried to make myself like Metallica for years and just cannot do it. I just don't like Metallica. I apologize Mr. Keuller. Metallica obviously has talent because so many people who I respect love them, so obviously the issue is with me and not the band.

A guilty pleasure is something that you enjoy that causes you some degree of shame if those around you discovered this pleasure. Obviously those around, whom you care about their perception of you, also play a part in the definition of a guilty pleasure. If you don't care what your pastor thinks of you, then you would not mind if he found out you liked Lifehouse. However, if you cared what your emo girlfriend thought of you, you might care if she found out you liked Lifehouse since they are probably the band that defines the place furthest from emo.

However, just because something is uncool, that does not make it a guilty pleasure. Things that are uncool can become cool once they have reached such a degree of uncoolness that they begin to take on the glorious luster of irony. Time is a factor and so is obscurity. The more popular something is, in your environment - the environment and part of society you care about, the less irony it has.

A perfect example is the band Journey. Journey was very popular in the 1980's with Steve Perry screaming out lyrics of love and loss. I listened to Journey a lot as a young teenager and felt Mr. Perry's angst come through my Walkman as I sat on the church bus alone and mourned my current "ungirlfriend" state. Journey was awesome and it rocked.

However, once the grunge scene hit in the 1990's, we all put aside our RAWK cassettes for the Alternative CDs. And as a result, we left Journey behind. It would have surprised me to hear Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam declare that Journey was an amazing band during their tour of their first album "10". Journey's popularity was too close in time and proximity, and there were still some uncool people singing the line "I smell a wine and cheap perfume" at the top of their lungs. These were older people having children at that time and joining the beige middle class. The cool kids of the day pushed back against Journey because they were once popular and defined them as "old". As a result, it existed only on your Classic rock radio station.

However, about 4 years ago, enough time had lapsed in which it became acceptable to like Journey again. Journey's music had not changed over the years, but the perception of their music and it's place in the musical landscape had changed. Now you had indie hipsters talking about how awesome it was that Tony Soprano ended his television career to a Journey song. Independent music blogs put up old videos of Journey and for a while, Journey was the number one most downloaded band on iTunes. So Journey came back. It became cool to tell others of your affection of the song "Faithfully" because so much time had passed and no one liked them anymore.

Only once the masses use something up and then cast it aside, can that thing begin to grow irony. Once the irony has had enough time to grow, then it becomes available to be "rediscovered" and become cool once again. It needs to become so uncool that it becomes cool again. It is like Cabbage Patch Kids or Pugs. Each one is so ugly that it becomes cute. Something can become so uncool that it once again becomes cool due to the mighty power of irony.

For instance, Nickleback has zero irony, while Nelson has some irony. I would rather be known as a Nelson fan than a Nickleback fan. There is a big pushback against Nickelback in my corner of society. My dad listens to Nickelback. As a result of that and their immense popularity for their canned soft rock music, I can't stand them. However, Nelson was cool, went unbelievably uncool and so after 20 years, they are starting to grow a little irony.

Look at Cindy Lauper and Madonna. No one would question that Madonna has more talent than Cindy Lauper, but given Madonna's popularity for so long, there is a necessary backlash that must take place, and has taken place. However, the backlash against Cindy Lauper happened over 20 years ago and as a result, I feel it is better to be a Cindy Lauper fan and sing along to "Time after Time" than be a Madonna fan right now.

Facebook and Twitter have no irony, and they are still popular and I have no shame in using both. Facebook is starting to lose its appeal to me just because it is so overused and is so obligatory for all aspects of society. I think we are a few short years against a Facebook and/or Twitter backlash and the cool kids of the day will cast it aside. Maybe then enough time may have passed so that MySpace becomes cool once again.

Wearing a horrible Christmas sweater is so wonderful because of the fact it is so bad and you drop small ironic Christmas bells with every step. Wearing Dockers and a golf shirt has no irony at all. I would rather wear the horrible Christmas sweater.

Dave Matthews has zero irony while John Denver just oozes irony. However, I like both Dave Matthews and John Denver. Dave Matthews has not experienced a massive backlash due to his popularity, yet. Therefore I do not consider Dave Matthews a guilty pleasure.

I would be accepted more as a Miami Vice fan than a CSI-Miami fan.

Pabst Blue Ribbon is the best ironic beer in the world and I pick it over Coors Light every time.

Guns N' Roses were about to become ironic enough to be cool again until they release "Chinese Democracy" and now it is easy to hate them again. Give it another 10 years.

In about 20 years, James Blunt will be at the center of musical irony. He rose so high and was so popular, but his fall was as quick as his ascent. There was a huge James Blunt backlash so it will make the irony even more sweeter.

For me, Christina Aguilera is a guilty pleasure. I really like the way she sings and while she is not as popular currently as she once was, we are not far enough removed for their to be any irony here. The majority of society has pushed back against Ms. Aguilera and I understand that. However, to be true to myself, I like her and for that I am ashamed.

I have been in certain company in which I felt they would agree with the amount of irony associated with a certain band. However, I was wrong and in their eyes, there was no irony at all and I was mocked openly. Once in the middle of a conversation, I used a line from the House of Pain song "Jump Around". I thought it was pretty funny and ironic, but the others did not see it that way. They thought I was a huge fan and they made fun of me. They asked if I had closets full of Irish Hoodie Sweatshirts. Lesson learned...

Other guilty pleasures for me (with no irony) are as follows: The Clothing Store Old Navy, Five for Fighting, The Fray, John Mayer, Black Eyed Peas, Owl City, Plain White T's...alright that's enough. I am embarrassed now.

To summarize, a guilty pleasure is a function of what you like, what those you care about like, time and the amount of irony. It is different for everyone and once we all can look each other in the eye and admit that you do sing along to Sarah McLachlan, the more free we all will be.

Do you have any guilty pleasures?

God cannot expect me to remain sane

I had this whole idea for a blog about my son and how he does not have patience and how he got that from me, but I need share what is going on right now in my little house...

Today was a cold rainy Sunday and we decided to stay home from church so as to ensure the kids stay healthy for Thanksgiving. Church is a place where viruses and bacteria must find the Holy Spirit and grow in strength and purpose because most of the times my son gets sick after church. That's a whole nothing topic. So we decided to stay home and have a quiet and relaxing Sunday before the chaos of Thanksgiving week.

My wife had an awful headache this morning so most of the day consisted of me downstairs with the kids while they watched television and played games while my wife rested. A few hours ago, my daughter said she saw brownie mix in the pantry and she asked if she could make brownies. Why would a loving father reject such a request from his lovely daughter? My son, being bored of pretending to lead the Rebel Alliance against the Empire asked if he could help.

Sure, why not. They learn a little about cooking and working together and I get brownies out of the deal. Everything is going great. They scurry off to begin baking a wonderful bounty for their father. They are getting along and I am starting to get hungry. All of a sudden I hear an, "oops" and silence. I throw my book down and run into the kitchen.

This is what I find...

I take this in stride. No big deal. I still get brownies and now I have the opportunity to show a little grace to my kids. I get my dad voice working and command "Now you two have to clean up once you are done." Problem solved. Win-Win...

With a little help from their old man, the brownies enter the oven and now we need to clean up. As the future Father of the Year, I spot another growth opportunity for my son. I tell my daughter to clean up the counter and my son will clean up the floor. My son will learn how to mop tonight.

I quickly sweep the kitchen floor (more points for me with the wife) and I show my son how to use the Swiffer mop. In case you do not know what that is, it is a mop that is just a pad at the bottom, but the cool part is there is a bottle of cleaning fluid attached to the mop stick. When you pull the trigger at the handle, it squirts a bit of fluid out at the front of the mop and makes clean up a pleasure and a joy. I tell my son to pretend the sticky brownie mix on the floor is bad guys and he needs to shoot them with the mop stuff. He loves it and I leave him to grow. Again, my wife gets a clean floor, my son learns how to mop, and I get brownies. This is a great night. I am a genius.

I fall back into my book and only look up when I detect that wonderful smell of brownies being taken out of the oven. My wife came downstairs at some time during the last 20 minutes. I run into the kitchen ready to receive the hugs and kisses from my wife due to her clean kitchen floor, see the pride in my son's eyes as he knows he is a better man today, and also score a couple brownies while they are still hot. My first step into the kitchen is almost my last. There is some sort of liquid all over the kitchen. It has dried to a film in some spots, but most of the kitchen is a mess.

"What happened here?" I ask. I don't let this get in the way of my brownie pursuit. I look up with a mouth full of chocolate goodness and see my wife without the look of adoration I had expected.

"Well, your son thought it was cool that you could just hold the trigger down on the mop and the bullets would just keep coming out. He's right, it just keeps coming out."

I have no response to this.

"Don't worry, I cleaned up most of it, even though I still have a headache," my wife continues.

Again, no response comes to mind. I am left standing in the kitchen with handfuls of sweets feeling like an idiot. This was not in my plan.

I slink back to my office and decide to write a bit to get my mind off my failed plans.

About an hour later my son is playing a video game with him mom. For reasons I do not now understand, this requires the television volume to be at an ear splitting level. This particular part of the game he is on now includes a large Lego plane flying around dropping bombs that create loud obnoxious explosions. Also it appear he must shoot something that makes a very high pitch noise when hit. My son is shouting instructions to mother since he has already played this level 46 times today. Since it involves explosions and ammunition, it is his favorite part of the game and therefore he is now the expert in our house. When he thinks his mother is not listening to him, he decides to loudly spell out his instructions. This is just a sample of what I have heard....

"Look, mom, you gotta shoot the bad guys over here like I am doing. OK?"

My beautiful wife responds with, "uh huh, sure baby" and then proceeds to play the game as it was designed to be played.

"No mom, when you are over there you are supposed to jump. See like me. OK, mom? Jump. J-U-M-P. Like this. Just do what I am doing. Like me. M-E."

My wife ignores the Hooked-on-Phonics lesson and proceeds to collect colorful coins. Currently she has about 25-times the amount of coins my son has.

"Mom, I need to destroy the bad guys with fire. F-I-R-E. OK? Meet your doom. You want some of me? I like this game, Mom. It's fun don't you think. I think the plane is fun. Plane. P-L-A-N"

I hear a new sound and it appears my son's character has died.

"OK, now I am going to start over, OK? That's the way you play this game. OK, Mom? I gotta go back to base and get a gun. G-U-N."

I attempt to block this out by listening to some strange British based indie band on headphones. This works well for a time and I am able to concentrate and get some writing done. However, after about 10 minutes the music spilling into my ears begins to change. I have to stop what I am doing and listen intently. When did British Sea Power change this song? What instrument makes that noise? It comes in and out of the music. It doesn't even go with the song. I try to ignore it but the high pitch wobbly noise cuts through the dark guitar and pounding drums. I begin to question my taste in music and begin to think that all my friends are right. I am told that I listen to strange bands. I should listen to more Michael Buble and Lifehouse (who is fine, by the way. No comments about how I am an idiot since I don't love Lifehouse).

In an act of frustration I rip the headphones off and realize my daughter has decided to practice her flute in the same room that my wife and son are playing video games. In her defense, my daughter has only been playing the flute for a few months and she has improved drastically during this time. However, it is hard to describe the sound as continually pleasant. I now understand my son's need for his screaming and the volume emanating from the television. I have been listening to a Mash-up of British Sea Power's Atom and Happy Birthday by my daughter. I do not recommend this. Pitchfork would give his a 0.0 for sure. No indie street cred there.

I go in the other room and see my wife greet me with a weak smile. Her headache has reached epic proportions. How can she play a video game, get yelled at by a 7 year old boy all while listening to my daughter fumble her way through her 15th version of Happy Birthday on a flute? I smile back, give her a quick wink, grab another brownie and almost jog back to the computer where the headphones go back on and the music gets turned up a couple of clicks.

This is our relaxing Sunday evening.

Oh...as I was finishing this with the music destroying what little hearing I have left, my son decides to say "Goodnight" by sneaking up beside me and trying to scare me. It worked.

This is the family God gave me. How can He expect me to remain sane?

Lord, save us from Your followers

I don't know what to say after watching this. It reminds me of the quote from Ghandi...

I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." - Mahatma Gandhi

We who are disciples of Christ need to stand up against this sort of thing. While we cannot keep people from using religious ideas for evil (even Satan quoted scripture), there is no way this should go on with there being a loud collective voice speaking out against this. I mean really...I cannot see how this fits in a Christian world view. It makes no sense to me at all. It does make me very sad.

I wasn't going to post this, because I did not want to deal with any sort of backlash. It's amazing how scared I am of people who follow the same God I do and who read the same Bible I do and who profess the same faith that I do.

Forget politics in this discussion. We who profess this faith have much more important matters to deal with than politics. We are to be concerned with the redemption of the world and bringing hope and love to those who need it. That is our highest calling. We are called to love God with everything and then love others like we should love ourselves. That our highest calling...not politics...

How does this make you feel?

Where is the line?

I follow a lot of blogs. Some on graphic design, some on God-stuff, some just because they are funny and make me laugh (www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com) but a lot on commercial real estate, architecture and structural engineering.

I do this because being a structural engineer who designs the structures of buildings and whose clients are predominately architects, I need to stay up to date on the status of the industry. Also, being the Marketing Director for our firm, I am frequently asked by other Principals as to the outlook for our industry.

So I read a lot of blogs, and right now, the vast majority of these blogs are filled with nothing but bad news. Supposedly the weakest sector in the American economy is commercial real estate, and it is going to do nothing but get worse in the next year. This is according to a lot of supposedly smart people who get paid to predict these sorts of things.

I hate reading all of this bad information. Fear is not a virtue. God specifically tells us not to worry and to not be afraid, so every time I read all this bad news, I am forced to deal with fear. My fear for my job, my company, and my family is rational given the economic circumstances, however, I have a tendency to let fear control me. I can easily let fear and worry change the way I act, treat my family, react to stress and affect many other areas of my life. I need to stay away from those things that bring about fear.

So what am I to do? Do I quit reading the news and become uninformed? So when I am asked, "How's it looking out there?" do I just ignore the question or say that I have no idea because I am too scared to find out?

I feel that my ignoring or selectively reading the news, I am just sticking my head in the sand and not confronting the truth. However, this approach does lead to more happiness and peace in my life and in my home. Maybe I think that being informed is important, but I do not know where I get that from.

The pragmatic side of me says to unsubscribe to all those blogs and just go about my day in an ignorant blissful daze. But the theoretical side of me says I should continually confront those things that cause fear so I can grow and learn to trust.

Where is the line?

FF's

It comes over our family like a virus. It cannot be predicted. It can strike any time of day or night and it does not care which member of the family it infects. Once one of us gets infected, it spreads throughout the rest of the family in a matter of hours, if not minutes. We used to rebuke the one who first catches it, but now we have learned that this is part of being in this family. This possible genetic deficiency is part of who we are. We used to fight it, but now we know our struggle is futile. My wife was the last to resign herself to it and now she is like me and the kids in our weakness. It's debilitating. It affects how we talk, what we eat, what we wear, what we discuss. It affects our television viewing, what music we listen to and what pictures my kids draw.

This "virus" causes such an ache, almost a physical hunger, in us and when we all get it, we are done. We look to each other for support, for tips and tricks to curb our pain. We take solace in the fact we are in this together and soon we will each have our hunger temporarily satisfied.

We call this crushing virus - Florida Feelings. My daughter calls them FF's for short.

We were in the dead of winter a few years ago. We were all getting out of my wife's Explorer to all go into Publix when my daughter was infected. "Dad, I just had a Florida Feeling." Without any time to react, I feel what she feels. We all go to Publix at the beach and we always take my wife's car. While we have gone to Publix in her Explorer many more times in Georgia than in Florida, our time at the beach is so special to us, that those memories win.

Now I am done. Instead of buying groceries for soups and starchy casseroles, I am begging my wife to let me buy ingredients for tacos. I find myself picking through mealy tasting strawberries and oranges, trying to recapture the tastes from our favorite place. I remind myself to change into shorts the minute I get home, in spite of the 40 degree weather.

My daughter and I giggle as we smell the few bottles of tanning lotion in the grocery store. I tell her that I used to put a little on my upper lip so I could smell that wonderful scent wherever I went. She joins me in this family ritual and I question my actions. It's like giving a shopaholic a credit card and a used bag from the mall. I see her eyes light up as she breathes in the sweet coconut smell. It is times like these that I know she is my daughter. We are created from the same stuff.

My wife's attitude begins to turn as as all start to sing along to the Jack Johnson CD in the car as we go home. She begins to imagine the smell the skirt steak coming off the grill. When she asks how many weeks of vacation I can use this summer, I know she has come over to the other side. Her eyes are wide and clear and she is gone. I love her so much.

As we sit down to eat our grilled steak tacos with homemade salsa, I dig our copy of Surf's Up and we all enjoy our summertime feast. My son is the last to be infected. However, when he sees the computer animated penguins surfing on the beautiful sun soaked beach, he speaks the collective thought of our family, "Man, I wanna go to the beach."

Yeah, bud. We all do.

Resting is difficult

The kids finally go into their rooms. The previous 30 minutes was filled with giggles and approximately 3 arguments as my son and daughter prepared for bed. For reasons I cannot begin to understand, the tasks of brushing teeth and changing into pajamas cannot be completed without some discussion over toothpaste or who needs privacy in the bathroom again or some other random and insignificant topic. It is like they have never gotten ready for bed before and have no idea what is required. Typically at some point in the evening's preparations, laughter pours down the stairs. What brought on this hilarity is unknown and us parents prefer it that way. After the fifth time asking the kids to settle down and just go to bed, each finally retire to their individual rooms.

It's quiet. My wife is on the computer or having some conversation with a friend. I used to try to listen and see if they were talking about me, but I soon realized the discussion centers around other female friends and children. These topics do not interest me, so I sit and look for relaxation.

It would seem that the act of relaxing would be easy. I am under the impression that to relax is the act of doing nothing. Just letting yourself be and setting aside the stress and worries of the day and do nothing. So this is what I attempt and I find this impossible.

I am so conditioned by my life to "do" that I now cannot "not-do". My mind will not quit racing. It does not know how to not worry about finances, the roof that needs repairs, the marketing plan that is due on Monday, the plans for this weekend, the sudden changes in my daughter now that she is in middle school, the sinus infection that is now afflicting my son, my wife's burdensome job, my long term career hopes, this little blog, the oil change that is needed in my car, the lunch meeting with a client tomorrow, the phone call on Friday, and this list goes on and on. It is almost deafening.

What I find most disconcerting is the speed and intensity that appears to be normal for me. As my heart begins to slow from an surprising rate, I cannot stop the feverish compulsion of my thoughts. I can almost feel my mind and soul getting the cold shakes of withdrawal as I try to take away the stress and worry. I cannot will it to be still and calm and any effort to do so increases the intensity.

Is this how I operate throughout my waking hours? Is this what I accept as normal? Is this me? This cannot be good. No one can sustain this level of intensity and not be affected.

I need a distraction, so I go to television, or my Blackberry to see what is happening on twitter. It's another fix and my mind is temporarily satisfied. However, I feel the call of God asking me to turn the TV off and put down the Crackberry and just be still.

I relent and try to calm my mind. I can't. My ears almost ring with the silence and my brain craves stimulation to distract from the bombardment of thought. I am scared of what I accept as normal now. It is only by sitting still do I see the turmoil and frenzy of my internal life. There is no room for peace and tranquility in me. All of me is filled with worry, deadlines, stress, and planning, and this I accept.

God, teach me to stop. Teach me to relearn what I now consider as normal. May I live out and experience Psalm 62:5 "Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him."

Does anyone else struggle with this? Does anyone take the time to be still and find they can actually pull it off? Any advice or discussion would be appreciated.

This can be overwhelming

It's been a while since I sat down to record my thoughts on the blogspot servers for all the interneters out there to read and critique. I have missed it greatly, and have thought about it every day, but recently I have found myself a bit intimidated. I follow this person on Twitter who gives great advice for writers. She sent a lot of tweets about rules all writers should follow and things writers should never do. Some of these pieces of advice were obvious and helpful, some were confusing to me and a few of these guidelines I knew I have violated in the past.

While I did appreciate the concepts, I was overwhelmed with the amount of rules and guidelines I needed to learn and remember and apply to be successful. Then there were other rules that did not match how my brain works and the voice I hear in my head when I write. I guess my voice is wrong.

That was a bit disheartening. I have worked at turning off the critical editor as I write. For years I had this voice in my head that made it's pure hate known for every word that my little fingers pecked out. That voice was so critical and took all the fun and creativity out of writing. That small bald angry editor's voice was debilitating and I did not write for years. I could only get a few sentences out on the screen before I would stop and agree with the small angry editor and delete it all and start over.

There were a few brief beautiful moments in which the words came forth with such speed and clarity that the editor could not keep up. He was furious at the amount of words pouring onto the screen and he would cringe with disgust as he would hear me giggle at the story that was taking shape before my eyes. If there as a way to capture that feeling, I would need nothing else in this world, and God does not want me to be that self sufficient.

So this post is my attempt to regain the fluidity I enjoyed in September and some of October. I hope this would help to quiet the editor and send him back to his dark office, only to be let out when I allow it.

Let's see how it goes...