.:: Like Beautiful Robots Dancing Alone ::.

I've Got My Own Hell To Raise

2009-04-20T20:40:00.000-07:00

So, it’s been a few days since I last wrote something. I’ve had some really necessary things happen and some really unnecessary things happen. Let’s go back to last Wednesday….

• On Wednesdays, the station does this thing now where we take lunch to an office. One of our spring goals was to get The Bull into more offices as an at-work listening station. Listeners register on our website and we bring lunch for them and up to 15 of their co-workers. After last Wednesday’s lunch hit, I was standing in the parking lot with Bill & our friend Jimbo and we SPONTANEOUSLY (Yes!!!) decided to make the hour and fifteen minute drive to Bill’s dad’s lake house on Lake Neely-Henry. It was an absolutely gorgeous day. We stopped and had fish tacos on the way up there. We took the boat out for a 3 hour tour. We smoked cigars and had a beer. We had bonafide country cookin’ on the way back. It was a much needed moment of spontaneity and clarity for me.

• With our paychecks/paystubs last week, everyone was given a $25 gift certificate to Texas Roadhouse. On Thursday night, I randomly decided to call my friend Alanna and she joined me for dinner. She also invited her friends Lori & David, both of whom Alanna’s insisted I need to meet. It was really nice to go to dinner with them and make new friends. They’re close to my age (both 26) and it’s nice to have a couple more gay friends that are chill, laid back and not involved in drama 24/7.

• On Friday night, I met Alanna over at Lori’s apartment. We had a few drinks and then drove downtown to David’s condo. We had a couple more drinks there and then headed to The Yacht Club for the Friday night show. After the show ended at The Yacht Club, we went dancing at the after-show spot, The Quest. It was good to just go out, let loose and be in that kind of environment…if you catch my drift. It’s something I hadn’t done in a really long time. There’s more to Friday night than I’m telling here but, after some reflection, I’m going to leave my recap the way it is because I’m not exactly proud of some of the events that transpired.

• There’s not much to say about Saturday. I had wanted to spend Saturday in Tuscaloosa because Saturday was Alabama’s spring practice game. Listen, give me shit all you want about wearing an Alabama cap & t-shirt but, at this point, Alabama is my home and Tuscaloosa is 45 minutes from my apartment. I love college football and I love the college football experience. Going to Tuscaloosa and cheering for Alabama is far more manageable than trying to drive the almost 5 hours to Knoxville to root on the Vols. Also, this whole “Tennessee or Alabama” dilemma that I’ve created in my head really speaks to my existence in general. Torn between the place my heart calls home and the place I actually call home. To some of you that may be way too deep for college football but, again, it really speaks to my experience. Anyway, I’d wanted to spend Saturday in Tuscaloosa but, from what I could tell, no one I knew seemed to be going. Then, I logged on to Facebook on Saturday and everyone and their mother was there. Thanks for the invite, peoples.

• Sunday, originally, was meant to be spent hiking at Oat Mountain with Alanna. However, if you saw the news Sunday night or Monday morning, we had some fairly severe, tornado producing weather hit north and central Alabama. Alanna & I spent the day at the movies instead. We saw “17 Again” – which was hilarious (sorry Ben, haha) – and then we snuck in to “Hannah Montana: The Movie.” Yeah, we both wanted to see it so stop laughing and suck it.

The past few days have been a nice and needed distraction from reality but, like usual, Monday rolls around and you have to come back down to earth. I feel really bad for Bill & Madison at times because, sometimes, I’m just really selfish. I know I keep saying this but I’ve really fallen out of love with my job. Granted, I still come in and I still do it to the best of my abilities. I need to keep the job, you know, and I still care about producing a quality on-air product, not just for my sake but for there’s. Every day, though, it gets more and more difficult to get out of bed and actually go in. You know, if this were a different time, many of you might suggest that I quit my job but, as we all know, that’d be the dumbest thing I could do right now.

You know, there are radio people out there who believe that – no matter what you get paid or what kind of hours you turn in on your timesheet – radio is a 24/7/365 job. Unfortunately, my boss is one of those people. However, truthfully, he gets paid to be one of those people. I do not. There was a time, though, that I felt that way. However, the work environment has so changed over the years and I’ve become cynical and jaded. On my time sheet, I put down that I begin work at 4a and I end work at noon (I don’t take a lunch break). That’s all the time I’m willing to devote to my job. If you want to pay me some more money outside of those hours to devote to the job, well, I’ll do it. Otherwise, we’ve agreed that my services are to be provided to you (the company) for five 8 hour workdays Monday through Friday. If you need me outside of those hours, tough shit. Also, what I do between noon and 4a are none of your concern.

However, where do I find myself at 10:39 p.m. on a Monday night? Sitting at work returning e-mails from a boss who eats, sleeps, lives, breathes and shits radio 24/7/365. A boss who doesn’t seem to understand – after I’ve told him repeatedly – that I don’t have internet or cable at home because they don’t pay me enough to afford it. A boss who doesn’t seem to understand – after I’ve told him repeatedly – that unlike him, I’m not going to eat, sleep, live, breathe and shit this job 24/7/365. I’m not paid to do that.

Today, at work, I snuck downstairs to have a cigarette. I’ve been good with the whole quitting thing but when I’m feeling down, it’s just nice to have one. It’s like having an old friend around, haha. A co-worker happened to be downstairs and she engaged me in conversation.

Co-worker: “How’s it going?”
Me: “Eh, it’s Monday.”
Co-worker: “I know the feeling.”
*awkward silence*
Co-worker: “Are you okay?”
Me: “Eh.”
*co-worker raises an eyebrow*
Me: “You know, I really probably shouldn’t be saying this to you [because of her position in the company], but it’s just getting more and more difficult to get up every morning and come in here. They’ve sucked all the fun out of everything. There’s no passion anymore.”
Co-worker: “Do you think it’s the industry as a whole or just the company?”
Me: *sighs* “I don’t know. I want to believe in my heart of hearts that somewhere out there radio is still fun. At the same time, I don’t hear people at other companies bitching the way we do. I don’t want to come across as ungrateful because I’m so very grateful to still have a job but I just wish I could feel some excitement about it again. However, we can’t always like what we do and there are plenty of other people not enjoying what they do because they need a paycheck.”
Co-worker: “True …but life’s too short for that.”

I agree….but life’s also full of bills.

Express Yourself

2009-04-15T08:49:00.000-07:00

Last night I made skrimps fleurnteen (Shrimp Florentine) for dinner…but I made it the patented Sandra Lee Semi-Homemade®©™ way. Well, I didn’t use a Sandra Lee recipe. I just kind of made it all up along the way but it was Semi-Homemade®©™ in that it was 70% store bought and 30% fresh. Okay, that’s a bold faced lie. It was all 100% store bought but it was Semi-Homemade®©™ in that I still made it up as I went along and it was three separate things that I put together to make one meal. Capice?

Now, let me get all Food Network-y on you and explain why this is considered Shrimp Florentine. In Italian cooking, when you prepare a meal Florentine, it means the meal consists of a white cream sauce and it uses spinach. I’m not an Italian major but I’m guessing Florentine is probably from the Italian/Latin word for “flora,” meaning flowers…but that’s just me making an educated guess.

A white cream sauce is NOT the same as an alfredo sauce because a white cream sauce doesn’t use cheese. A white cream sauce is generally made by creating a roux of butter and flour and then adding heavy cream to the roux and then bringing it to a boil and letting it simmer. I didn’t have flour at my apartment or heavy cream and I’m scared to death of making a roux. In case you’re wondering, a roux is equal parts butter and flour and you mix it all together as a thickening agent for sauces. However, if you don’t keep a careful eye on it, it will burn very quickly and I’m afraid of that happening so I’ve never attempted it. Instead, I just used a pre-packaged pasta and sauce mix. It’s much simpler.

At this point, I’ve told you way more than you want to know so I’m just going to hop into the instruction part, haha.

Here’s the ingredients I used:

• a bag of frozen 50-70 count skrimps (deveined & peeled; my package – unfortch – still had the tails on)
• a package of some sort of pasta side dish with a white or cream sauce
• a 9oz bag of fresh baby spinach

Also, this is literally a :30 meal. I started at 6:15p and it was on my plate by 6:45p.

If you have time to do it beforehand, you’re supposed to take the skrimps out of the freezer and let them thaw in the fridge for 8-10 hours. However, I impulsively decided to make this meal for dinner so I had to use the quick thaw method on the back of the package. You simply put the shrimp in a strainer and run them under COLD water for 7-10 minutes to thaw them. You should occasionally rotate the strainer for an even thawing process.

Once the shrimp are thawed out, I use this opportunity to go ahead and cut off the tails.

However, if you want to leave them on, that’s totally your call. Just let the shrimp chill in the strainer while you make the rest of the meal.

Next up, you need to simultaneously start working on the pasta and the spinach.

The pasta is a piece of cake. Make the pasta according to the directions on the package. I mean, seriously, how much easier can that be, D.A.? haha

For the spinach, you, essentially, just want to wilt it. So, while the pasta’s working, I’d put about a ¼ cup of water in a small-ish pot and bring it to a quick boil. Then, you just put as much spinach as you can into the pot a load at a time until it all wilts down.

An entire 9oz bag, honestly, wilts down to, maybe, 2 cups of spinach. You’ll be surprised.

Once the spinach is done, you want to strain it or drain it somehow. You don’t need all that extra liquid in your pasta sauce.

The final step is to bring it all together in one pot. Add the shrimp and the spinach to the pasta pot and stir it all together. The heat from the spinach and pasta will warm the shrimp through.

As you might have figured, it’s deliberate that this entry is called “Express Yourself.” I’ve chronicled here that I’m missing passion in my life. I’m missing a rewarding creative outlet. At time, I find it tragic that I’m such an arts-centric human being. I’ve never once had an ounce of skill at any sort of art (drawing, sketching, painting, sculpting, etc). My most favorite form of expression is through music and dancing. I’m by no means a phenomenal dance and, sadly, I can’t carry a note in key to save my life nor can I play an instrument. I’m a (overly)confident writer but, most of the time, I lack motivation, inspiration or the patience to see anything through. I’m lazy. I know it. However, amidst all this, over the past two years, I have managed to find one creative outlet that I’m extremely passionate about and exercises in that outlet that I can see through from start to finish. That creative outlet is cooking and in a time when I need to feel just a *little* passionate about something, cooking a meal brings me that passion and satisfaction.

Bon appétit!

P.S. I’d totally like to give a shout out to Pam Beesley for COMPLETELY summing up my state of mind last week during “The Office.”

Pam: “I can’t do this.”
Michael: “What’s that?”
Pam: “I can’t do this. I had a REAL job. I sat ten feet away from my fiancé. I had health benefits! I was just feeling impulsive! I should have gotten a tiny tattoo on my ankle! I just keep getting bored and I let things build up and build up and then I..I do something TOO big…like this! Who does this?!”

Thank you, Pam. That’s exactly how I ended up in Birmingham and, now, I intend to stay for a while.

Come On And Dig Your Hooks Instead Of Dirty Looks

2009-04-14T11:18:00.000-07:00

I promise I’m not all doom, gloom & melancholy.

• I’ve been smoke-free for five weeks now. Well, technically, it’s been three weeks but I’m on week five of the process. Week one I cut back from a pack a day to 3-4 a day. Week two I cut that back to 1-2 a day and since week three I’ve been smoke-free, except for one night at a bar. I’m still having trouble giving up smoking when I’m in a bar or when I drink but it’s still better than the pack a day I was at because, you know, I’m not in a bar or drinking every day…or am I? haha

• “Parks & Recreation” has been getting mixed reviews. I, however, thoroughly enjoyed the first episode and don’t think it’s very fair to write it off after one episode even if you didn’t like it. Sure, it’s from the creators of “The Office” and it’s the same kind of mockumentary format BUT it’s not supposed to be “The Office” or even like it…except in the way its shot. Personally, I think Amy Poehler’s Leslie Knope is Michael Scott’s soulmate, though I don’t think they’d ever work out because they’re too much alike. Also, I like anything Rashida Jones is in.

• A couple of months ago, we did a bit on my morning show where we all tried out an “As Seen On TV…” product. Madison tried out the ShamWow, Bill tried out the Snuggie and in the past week and a half, I’ve finally gotten around to trying out my GT Express 101…and I love it! However, I was a bit disappointed to see an infomercial over the weekend for the new GT Express RediSetGo. It’s red, it has a timer, and it had interchangeable cooking surfaces so you can have the two wells like the original or one big open space. I kind of wish I had that instead, haha.

• I’ve developed a really bad habit in the past six months or so of playing the crap out of new music and getting sick of it way too quickly. Lady GaGa’s album didn’t come out in the States until, like, October but it came out in Australia & the U.K. last summer. I’d had her album since August and had played the crap out of it by the time she released it here. As much as I love her, I’m sick of hearing her on the radio because I’ve listened to the album so much. About the time I was growing sick of her, Britney released Circus. It came out the first week of December and, honestly, I was over it by Christmas. In mid-2008, James Morrison released his second album – Songs For You, Truths For Me – and I was late to the party. He managed to bridge the Christmas – February gap between Britney and Lily Allen. Lily Allen’s album came out the first week of February and by the end of February – and it was a short month even – I was over it too. Any time she comes up on my iPod, I just hit skip because I’m sick of hearing her. About the time I was wearing her thin, I saw that The Ting Tings were coming to town. I’d had their album for MONTHS but had, really, only listened to the singles. That bridged the gap from Lily Allen to me seeing them week before last. I’ve sat now for about a week and a half with nothing new to listen to and then the new album from Peaches, I Feel Cream, leaked, so, yeah, I’m all about some Peaches right now. If the album title makes you raise an eyebrow, know that past album titles have included: The Teaches of Peaches, Impeach My Bush, and Fatherfucker. Past song titles have included: “Shake Yer Dix,” “Fuck or Kill,” “Tent In Your Pants,” “Rock The Shocker,” “Slippery Dick,” “Fuck The Pain Away,” “Cum Undun,” “Diddle My Skittle,” “Hot Rod,” “Lovertits” and “Suck & Let Go.”

You can check out her latest single – “Talk To Me” – below. As is the standard, this entry’s title is a lyric from that song anyway and, don’t worry, the song is totally safe for work. It’s very, very tame compared to past standards, haha.

Show Me That Someone That I Used To Be

2009-04-13T10:37:00.000-07:00

I went home for Easter weekend but lied to friends from back home about it. I had a handful of people text me to see if I was in town but I said I wasn’t. It was the first time I’d been home since Christmas and when I’m only in town for 36-40 hours, it’s hard to juggle visiting everyone without someone (namely Mom) feeling slighted.

I always have bittersweet feelings about going home for a weekend visit but this one is resonating with me more than usual and I’m trying to pinpoint why.

There’s the juxtaposing feelings coming and going. On Friday, I couldn’t wait to hit the road and get the hell out of Birmingham; yet on Sunday morning, I couldn’t wait to pack up and get the hell back to Birmingham.

Weekend visits take a toll on the psyche and the emotions and longer trips – like the 11 days over Christmas – do even worse damage. It’s always nice to be back in familiar surroundings and in the place your heart calls home. However, so many of the people that used to give it that feeling – Mariah, Michelle, Tiffany, Audra, Heather & Andy – aren’t there any more. But, then again, so many of the people that did make it feel that way – Mom, John, Kerri, Stephen, Jesse, Cynthia, Melissa & Brad – are still there. It’s just always so odd to me that I look so forward to going there and then, when I get there, I look so forward to getting so far away from it.

Weird and uncomfortable conversations come out of trips home. Some of the folks on Mom’s side of the family have – to put it crassly – been dropping like flies lately and it’s got Mom realizing her own mortality. Being the only child, I’ve had to sit through two awkward phone conversations and, now, one in-person conversation about her will and her funeral arrangements. On Saturday morning, my Mom suggested we go visit her mother in the nursing home. The suggestion came as a total surprise to me because, honestly, neither my mom nor I have seen my grandmother in a good 5 or 6 years. I guess my reaction – one of complete noninterest – came as a surprise to my mother as well. I get that my mom wanted to go while I was in town because she needs me there for moral support and I know it was a completely selfish thought but I found myself thinking, “Wow, what a complete and total Debbie Downer way to spend a Saturday.” So, we didn’t go. Instead, on Sunday morning, I had to sit and listen to her tearful guilt trip while I tried to watch “Barefoot Contessa.” I’m a horrible human being, I know.

My whole deal is this, though. The last time I saw my grandmother was at my grandfather’s funeral. At that time, she was still semi-mobile and mostly cognitive. Over the years, she’s deteriorated in health. She’s been bed-ridden in her house and now is in a nursing home. I’m guessing, in all honesty, that Saturday might have been my last chance to see my grandmother before she dies. I, however, do not want to remember my grandmother that way. I don’t want that to be the last memory I have of my grandmother. I choose to want to remember her the way I currently remember her and the way I see her in photographs.

Speaking of photographs….When I go home, it’s not uncommon for my mom to remind that, while her home will always be my home, I’m living on my own now and I’m almost 30. I need to be responsible for my own stuff. So, little by little over the years, less and less of my stuff is at her house and more and more of it is with me. This weekend, I brought back with me albums upon albums and boxes upon boxes of photographs.Truthfully, looking back at them hasn’t been easy. They recollect moments, events and people in my life that, sadly, I’ve forgotten over the years. They bring back a painful sense of nostalgia. I look at the pictures and wonder, “Where did that kid go?” They make me mourn the loss of innocence and naiveté because someone cynical and jaded now exists in that shell. They also make me realize just how rotund I’ve become over the years.

Last week, I had a conversation with my friend Ben about Drew. Drew has been weighing heavily on my mind lately. I’m not sure what’s happened to bring thoughts of him to the forefront of my mind but something’s triggered it. Perhaps it’s because next month will mark the second anniversary of his death. Anyway, as I waxed pathetic with Ben, he asked me where I thought Drew & I might be if Drew were still alive. I said, “Hopefully a little more mature. Hopefully a little more wiser. And I’d hope that he’d have come around, like he was starting to before he died, and we’d be epic.” That, naturally, sent my mind catapulting in a million different directions. I can’t deny that Drew had a profound impact on my life. I had never loved anyone, before, the way I loved Drew and I’ve never loved anyone, since, the way I loved Drew. I have these Taylor Swift-esque machinations that Drew is who I’m meant to be with; that Drew is to be my one true love in life and I’m to never love anyone else ever again; that though our time together was brief, my love for Drew will be eternal. Again, all that sappy stuff that’s the meat of a Taylor Swift song. That’s the Bachelor of Arts in me.

However, the little bit of the Bachelor of Science that dwells in me tells me that I’m an idiot. It tells me that, initially, when I opened myself up to Drew about how I felt, and he didn’t feel it back, that I was terribly crushed. The Bachelor of Science tells me that I continue to use this pain and fear of rejection to keep myself closed off from anyone else and that I’m delusional for having not let Drew go after all these years.When I got back to Birmingham and unpacked, I started going through the mounds of photos I’d brought back home with me. Again, all the moments, events and people in my life I’d forgotten about came flooding back.

For one brief moment, the great Arts vs. Science battle took a day off as both sides united to shed a tear for a lost and forgotten photo I’d taken of Drew at Coolidge Park.

Tumbling Blindly Across The Universe

2009-04-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

I’ve struggled with whether or not to write these words for a couple of days now because I don’t want to garner the reputation of being a Debbie Downer but I’m hoping getting these words out there will help me feel better.

After my conversation with my friend on Friday night, I’ve just felt an enormous weight on my shoulders. I’m drowning under a wave of overwhelming thought. I’m being crushed by the weight of inconsequence. I thought I had already conquered this gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, heart-breaking mental madness several years ago. Is it possible to go through a quarter-life crisis a second time? Or, who knows? Perhaps this is my mid-life crisis?

There’s no passion in my life. There’s nothing to be excited about. There’s no motivation. All that exists is an acute sense of my being and how, in the grand scheme of things, inconsequential I am. There’s a feeling of a lack of purpose; a feeling of not feeling utilized. Perhaps it’s best summed up by saying, “Hi, I’m Robbie. I’ve peaked at 27.”

The last time I felt this stagnant, God…the universe…whatever you want to believe in…shook things up for me. I was laid off from my job and two months later I packed up my stuff and moved to a completely new city where I knew no one and no one knew me. I don’t want that this time around. I want to make the most of what I already have. I want to be an extraordinary machine. (Fiona Apple reference, anyone?)

I’ve haphazardly spent the past few months thinking/hoping/wishing a person would help fill this passionless, purposeless void in my life. Not a particular person, mind you. However, I’m starting to feel that’s a misnomer. At least I feel something at this point.

Yesterday, on Facebook, I had my status set to: Robbie thinks it’s a “Pleasantville” kind of day. If you’ve never seen “Pleasantville,” I highly recommend you check it out. Any time I have to put together a list of my all-time favorite movies, it will undoubtedly make the list. If you have already seen it, I recommend you see it again because if you take it a just face value, you’re missing out. The cast (Tobey Maguire, Reese Witherspoon, William H. Macy, Joan Allen & Jeff Daniels) is stellar. Visually, it’s absolutely stunning with its use of creative angles, symbolism and color.

My favorite scene from the film – simply for the visual aspect – is the scene where Bud takes Margaret to Lover’s Lane for the first time. The events that take place at Lover’s Lane seem to be the impetus that initiates the change from black and white to color in the kids. Bud and Margaret have yet to experience their “change,” therefore their existence is still in black and white. As the car makes its way around the corner and approaches the lake at Lover’s Lane, a breeze floats through the black and white world and all these beautiful pink dogwood petals begin to float through the air. Bud smiles as Margaret reaches to turn up the volume on the radio. As she does, the DJ says, “This one goes out to all you kids up at Lover’s Lane,” and you hear Etta James rattle out those first two words – “At Last.”

As I said before, though, if you take the film at face value, you’re missing out on so much more. It’s much more than “an ingenious fantasy,” which is what The New York Times called it when they reviewed the film. Thematically, the film deals with so much more. The film is about consequence, purpose, passion, change, independent thought, progression vs. the status quo. Hell, it’s even about antidisestablishmentarianism. Honestly, I was just looking for an excuse to use that big word but, really, that theme does run throughout the film. I guess, at this point, it’s not hard to figure out why I felt the need to watch the film yesterday.

In an apparent case of art imitating life, after this particular viewing of the film, this scene lingered with me the most:

[Bud is behind the counter of the soda shop writing Mary Sue & Skip’s order]
Bud: Two cheeseburgers and two cherry Cokes.
[Mr. Johnson is on the floor behind the register]
Mr. Johnson: There aren’t any cheeseburgers.
Bud: I thought we talked about this. I thought we said…
[Bud pulls Mr. Johnson into the pantry]
Mr. Johnson: What’s the point, Bud?
Bud: You make hamburgers. That is the point.
Mr. Johnson: No, I know…I know I do. It’s…it’s always the same, you know? Grill the bun, flip the meat, melt the cheese. It never changes. It never gets any better or worse….
Bud: OK, just listen for a second….
Mr. Johnson: Like the other night when I closed by myself? That was different…
Bud: Well, forget about that!
Mr. Johnson: Well, OK….I really liked it, though.
Bud: Come here.
[Bud sits down with Mr. Johnson at the pantry table]
Bud: Look, you can’t always like what you do. Sometimes you just gotta do it because it’s your job. And even if you don’t like it, you just gotta do it anyway.
Mr. Johnson: Why?
Bud: So they can have their hamburgers!
Mr. Johnson: Oh.
Bud: I’m sorry.
Mr. Johnson: You know what I really like?
Bud: What’s that?
Mr. Johnson: Christmas time. See, every year on December 3rd I get to paint the Christmas decorations in the window and every year I get to paint a different thing. Here, I’ll show you.
[Mr. Johnson pulls out a photo album]

Bud: Wow, that’s pretty good.
Mr. Johnson: Thanks, but this morning I was thinking and I realized that I look forward to it all year. And then I thought, “Gee, that seems awful silly. It seems like an awfully long time to be waiting for just one moment.” Don’t you think?
[Bud stares at the photo album]
Mr. Johnson: Well, don’t you?
Bud: I think that you should try not to think about that anymore.
Mr. Johnson: OK. I’ll try that, then.

I’m feeling incredibly like Mr. Johnson right now except I’ve yet to find anything to look forward to.

Naturally, I have to tie music into this somehow as well. For the film, Fiona Apple recorded a beautiful version of “Across The Universe,” which was originally a song by The Beatles. It’s perfectly apropos because the lyrical content and meaning of the song works on multiple levels in the film. It works to support the work of those fighting the “change” in Pleasantville. Things are to remain pleasant and nothing will change that world. It perfectly captures the renewed spirit of life in those that become colorized as well. They don’t want to go back to the way things were. They like this new existence and nothing will change their world.

It works for me as well as it seems that nothing – internally or externally – is going to change my world for the time being.

P.S. You can all stop worrying. After getting these words on paper about 13 hours ago, I feel fine today ;-)

I Guess We're Just Made Of Dreams

2009-04-03T22:56:00.001-07:00

1. I desperately need a haircut...unless this is a look we all think I should continue rocking:

2. It's incredibly late. It's 1:00 a.m. CST and I'm at work writing a blog entry. However, a 5 hour afternoon nap, a Diet Dr. Pepper and a mocha frappucino from Starbucks at 8:30 p.m. will, most likely, keep you awake until 1 a.m. as well.

3. Keeping that music is such a big part of my life and such a spiritual experience for me, I'm just letting you know that - thematically - all of my blog entry titles will be lyrics from songs and I'll always post the video to the song at the end of the journal entry.

4. If you'd like to comment on the blog but don't want to sign up with Blogger for an account, that's cool. You can drop me a note in the same way that I told you about the blog.

5. I'm not going to write every entry in a numbered list, haha.

6. Finally, the heart of the matter...

In my head, this specific entry was going to be a much different entry earlier than what it is about to become. However, I'm not annoyed by the change in the train of thought because life is serendipitous sometimes. There's an overall theme of unhappiness in my life right now. It's almost like I'm going through my quarter-life crisis all over again. It's not a crippling depression, "I-don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed-or-even-live" kind of unhappiness. It's the kind of unhappiness that Britney Spears actually talked about during her MTV documentary. It's the kind of unhappiness that stems from lack of spontaneity; the kind of unhappiness that stems from a lack of passion and an overwhelming sense of complacency. Then, of course, there's unhappiness in the romance department but that's neither here nor there and is a completely different entry itself, haha.

One of the great qualities that God has blessed me with, I think, is my ability to be empathetic, sympathetic and relateable. I love forming relationships with people and making new friendships. I'm interested in people because I'm interested in perspectives. While we all may take different paths to the same destination, I feel that no matter which path we take, we all hit the same road bumps and hearing how others navigate the path's potholes helps us to gain perspective and understanding about ourselves and why we handled our potholes the way we did. I hope I'm making sense.

Tonight, I came into work the intent of quickly voicetracking my Saturday shift and then throwing back some brewskis with some friends. Had that been what I'd actually done, I wouldn't be here writing this. Anyway, I was in a studio by myself voicetracking when a coworker, who - as of late - has become less of a coworker and more of a valued friend, stopped by to check on my progress. Two hours later, I had still only tracked about half an hour of my shift but I'd gained another relationship that brought massive perspective into my life.

For two hours, I listened to a friend talk about dreams, passion and complacency. She told the story of how, every night for the past six months, she's gotten little to no sleep because she's been pursuing a dream - a dream that's so very close to the cusp of reality but is also so very close to the cusp of dying because of lack of confidence and faith in herself. The dream isn't practical. It will be a lot of hard work to see this dream come to fruition. As I listened to her talk, I could see the passion in her eyes; I could her the love in her words and I could also hear the desperation for validation and for someone, anyone to believe in her. And in that moment, I realized I did believe in her and I told her so because, you know, sometimes all it takes is for that ONE person to believe, you know?

Anyway, I left the conversation feeling completely envious of my friend. Envious that she had something in her life that she was passionate about. I used to have something like that in my life but over the years, that something has turned me into a jaded cynic. I've settled for complacency in my life for far too long. I'm ready to find my passion and chase some dreams.

Any idea where to start?

- R

I Know A Heart Shouldn't Beat So Hard

2009-04-03T09:50:00.000-07:00

This is an experiment, I suppose, in privacy, though it's very idea is a failure.

Livejournal.

Myspace.

Facebook.

I've got them all and what I have done, unfortunately, is created an inescapable existence for myself online. I consider Livejournal my sanctuary because so few people know about it but, sometimes, I need to even escape those confidantes.

I need a place to go that I can say what I feel; say what I really want and need to say. I need a place that's completely uncensored and I'm hoping that's what I have/I am creating for myself here. A place to be free.

The address to this blog will be held dear to my heart. If you're reading this, please do not betray my trust. You've been given access because I value your opinion and I hold your thoughts dear.

I know all of this is kind of deep for an online blog but, again, I just need some freedom/escapism right now.

Anyway, this is just a quick introductory entry. It's a placeholder if you will.

I'm 3 minutes away from having put in my 8 hours today and I've got to come back tonight to take care of some other things. I'll write more then.

If you're wondering where the blog title ("...like beautiful robots dancing alone...") and the blog address came from, it came from one of the most brilliant songs I've ever heard.

Some of you that have this link know how much I love Girls Aloud and how much their music means to me. On their most recent album, Out Of Control, they've got a masterfully crafted, sweeping epic of a brilliantly produced pop song called "Untouchable." It's now been chosen as their new single and the blog title and address come from it's lyrics.

Check out the video below and I'll catch you guys later.

- R