It’s “New Music Monday” again. I once used to be on top of my game knowing when new releases of my favorite artists were going to drop. It seems as time passes in the hour glass of life, I’ve become more preoccupied by other details and obligations like children and employment. However, my unwavering hunger for new music hasn’t faded. Once again, I missed a vital piece of information that an old favorite, an old friend if you will, released a new album. But again, as fate would have it, I was alerted to its existence only days after the release by the wonders of the internet and all of its glowing informational fruitfulness.


The godfather of emo music, Chris Carrabba, and those ‘three other guys’ of Dashboard Confessional have released their latest studio album “Alter the Ending.” I have adamantly denied the value of mainstream emo in previous posts. Now that ‘emo’ is the whiney, mascara wearing, ‘my parents-don’t-understand-me’ variant. Dashboard Confessional is alternative rock but is absolutely soul-bearing and the pouring of heart felt emotion. And because I am an emotional train wreck, this resonates with me. I was looking for something deeper and wrenching rather than my typical ‘I hate the Man’ music.

Get it here at Lala.com

In a digressional moment, I owe thanks to my cousin and his family for the iTunes gift card which afforded the purchase of “Alter the Ending.” I’m pretty anti-Apple, specifically iTunes and its Gestapo-like DRM. It’s like visiting the Matrix. But with a gift card, I was all about taking advantage of economically risk free music. Unfortunately, iTunes had “Alter the Ending” for $12.49 when it was only $9.49 at my secret love, Lala.com. This further supports my stance against the evils of iTunes.

Onward. If I’m counting correctly, this is the sixth studio release from Carrabba as the front of Dashboard Confessional. In honesty, the record is a little more overproduced than past releases. Now, that could have killed the record, because what makes Dashboard Confessional truly intimate is Carrabba’s songwriting, earnest voice, and minimal acoustic guitar work. This record is almost a polar opposite of that. Lots of echoes, string arrangements and layering. But all of the production suits many of the songs. Let it be known that true purists will blast this level of ‘poppiness’ and yearn for the old days of Dashboard Confessional. In that case, I would recommend buying the Deluxe version which is two discs. The first disc is all of the material in glorious Technicolor and full production sound. The second disc is all of the same tunes in naked acoustic pleasantries. That bares Dashboard Confessional down to the underground emo-heartbreak phenomenon they once were.

“Alter the Ending” is a very deep record emotionally. For me, it is what I needed right now. Less about the music and more about the message. Less about destruction of the institutional constructs of the ‘Man’ and more of about the dive into feelings about the world around me and the struggles inside me. Okay, so I may be a little biased but I will say that the songwriting on this album is truly intimate, and beautiful. Carrabba is a master at capturing hurt and joy in an audible format that you ‘get.’ Despite my favoritism of the band and my connections to the messages swirling around from listening to the album, this is truly a special record of beautiful tunes. Typically, Dashboard Confessional albums were more about darker feelings and retrospective but “Alter the Ending” is much more upbeat and the lyrics lift and are hopeful.

All of the songs are near-epic on this album but there are three marquee songs which make it purchase-worthy:

Belle of the Boulevard – When I first heard this song, I had the vision of sitting in my garage with my sons reflecting on life and passing on advice about persevering through disappointments but knowing they both aren’t listening and would rather draw with sidewalk chalk. The beauty of the song is in the message and how it is delivered. Uplifting and lyrically soaring. In brief, it’s pretty much about rubbing dirt on your emotional wounds and moving on.

Hell on the Throat – If I had to pick one song that typified the sound of early Dashboard Confessional, this song is it. It’s delicate and intimately sung over an acoustic guitar and piano. The tale is an analogy of the harshness of the cold of winter being equated to the long road of life and roadblocks along the journey. This is Dashboard Confessional at its best.

Everybody Learns from Disaster – The title of this song is fairly self explanatory. Lyrically, it wonders through lessons learned through the years of growing up in a highly metaphorical story. It is very vivid and you can almost see the story visually playing out in your mind as you listen. It harkens back to the those long warm summers while you were in high school and felt indestructible but are now old enough the appreciate the lessons.



“Alter the Ending” is a lyrical adventure. The songwriting and musicianship are top shelf but the true beauty of the work is in its message and its delivery. This is what makes Dashboard Confessional a great group. It’s their ability to channel emotional feelings in a way that the listener can relate. Most of the songs are very metaphorical requiring the listener to digest what is being said. The cerebral nature of the lyrics creates a visualization that adds to the ambiance and the experience. Music that makes you see a vignette of a short story of life is what you will hear on “Alter the Ending.”

I’ve taken the opportunity to glance back on a few of my last posts recently and see a trend starting to continue through many of the entries. This blog has become a medium to disseminate family news as well as an emotional platform for deeper discussions. At times it’s become my diary or a thoroughfare to my heart. I’m writing this paragraph after the entry below almost in an effort to qualify its existence and its meaning. It’s a finger waving, you better listen to what I say article edited to fit here.

“A line of strands to mark the trail; No one said it would be easy. I must admit I thought the risk was better waged in younger seasons.”

The well-worn traveled path of life has been broad and well lit at times. But more often then I care to count; it’s been cold and winding through a dark dead wintery forest. Maybe it’s the current weather pattern or maybe it’s precisely the way I feel it. Despair. On dark, stormy nights like tonight, I can’t help but think of the blatant metaphorical imagery represented in the wind and rain ravaging the trees like my hurt tearing through the fabric of my being. I have to wonder and question whether or not I am capable.


Writing my feelings here, I’m praying that I don’t come across as preaching or telling you what to do. That’s really the last thing I want to be portrayed in this scribbling. I hope that you both can take what I’ve written here and know the depth of my feelings and the honest hope I have in the both of you. My life has been less than perfect and is blemished with poor decisions and indiscretions. There have been a fair share of disappointments and failures along the way. I just hope you both know how much you mean to me despite my inability to effectively communicate my love.

My heart and health have deteriorated over the years. There will be a day that my creative, emotional edge will be gone and I’ll be nothing more than a fragile pile of bones. It just seems like so much has been lost over the years. So much so, that the incremental positive additions sometimes get passed over in lieu of focusing on the painful regret. Two gleaming positive examples are the both of you. Too much time and emotion has worn me down over the years to dull off my once knife-edged personality. The both of you are pillars of purity that I can turn to when I’m lost or confused. I can hang my hat on the coat rack of your existence knowing success has come my way twice in life.


Please don’t let the horrible acts of people morph you into something different. My faith has been worn and my hands have been tied over the years. I feel like I’ve lost an important part of me along the way. Almost as if it is that one item a person forgets to pack after so many blurry nights in a hotel after long business travel. The days and nights blur into each other and time is lost. Packing for the next stage becomes tedious and details are lost. More importantly, personal essence is lost. Just like the cell phone charger you leave in the Motel 6, I forgot to pack my resilience.

Both of you are what I will leave behind; an incomplete legacy, unwritten for you to develop and partially conclude until you pass it on to your children. I pray that you discover that I’ve given you all the tools you need to handle the mistakes and heartache in front of you. No matter the how isolated either of your feel, you must always remember that there’s no one more dedicated to you than your brother. It’s easy to feel like you’re trapped in a dream or alone in a world of million of souls where you are without hope. When there is no one else, there is each other. I don’t know how I can empress how important this point is for the both of you. Lack of recognition wasted years of hope.


It’s very easy to ignore the signs as they’re revealed but you must keep an eye on the winding road ahead of you. The vast majority of the time, there’s very little time to react to the curves that come up blindly. I’d imagine that my words here are going to be viewed as preaching. Knowing that you both are aware of your father’s inability to be succinct or my inability to NOT discuss my opinions, I hope you both are open to hearing my heartfelt words. Thinking back, I can unfortunately not remember much of the encouraging advice from your grandparents. I know it was there, but all the changes in direction along the path have affected the line of sight I can see through the rear view mirror. So you tend to forget all with time.

I am finally coming to grips with the obscure point that the sun is setting for me. Now I pass on the incomplete legacy to you for your generation to continue. Know that no matter the redirection of the path or the obstacles that pre-empt your travels, I am with you and more proud than any father could be. You both are better.

With all that I can give, your dad.

“And when the path I have made from the grass to the grave, I will love you still. And when the sand turns to glass and all that’s left is the past, I will love still.”

In honor of the first birthday of Son #2, I’ve decided to discuss the childhood development of this aforementioned child (or maybe it’s the lack of development). Don’t get me wrong here; he’s a fantastic, but defiant kid. He seems to have his own schedule on when and how things are accomplished. I can only wait to see what he’s like in high school and college with this “I’ll do it when I’m ready” view on life.


While I’m not a believer in the second child phenomenon, I think that some of Son #2’s development has been a result of my wife and me not artificially coercing him. Son #1 was in daycare at the current age of Son #2. Because all of the kids were mobile, he wasted no time in figuring out that there was Darwinist stimuli in the classroom. A lack of mobility meant he was late to the snack table and snacks were a huge motivator. Likewise, food is a huge motivator for Son #2. However, the difference is that Son #2 is at home and not in daycare. There’s no “Ya, I took your snack. So what are you going to do about it?” I like to pretend that Son #1 had to fight to survive. It’s much easier for Son #2.

Son #2 has an interesting position on mobility. “Why move when you will move me?” He’ll crawl when it’s a matter of urgency. Crawling in a classical sense doesn’t apply. It’s really more of a ‘dragging’ activity with the occasional erratic kick of a leg to propel him further. In all of this, I don’t know why this really comes as a surprise to me and my wife. The damn kid has pretty much set his own pace since he was born. As a matter of fact, he was born on his own schedule and not his due date. This should’ve been a shot across the proverbial bow that Son #2 was doing things his way.

Another example of Son #2’s self-fashioned schedule of development is the manner in which he eats. Now I hesitate to say that my wife and I may be culpable for the preference of method which he consumes sustenance. It seemed like in the early months we could’ve been more deliberate about making Son #2 take a bottle. In his relatively short existence, he has successfully ingested two complete bottles of milk. Two. He decided early on, with our lack of bottle delivery emphasis, that he’d only feed in two ways; by his mother or by his hand. The first is obvious and has taken months to untie this insatiable need to connect with his mother. The second, which is more interesting, is his need to use his prehensile extremities in an unorthodox method of feeding.

Son #2 did not only skip (read: refuse) the bottle phase, but he also skipped (read: refused) the baby food phase. Admittedly, we tried harder with baby food than the bottle. But ultimately, He vetoed our actions with defiance. Not only did he not like eating baby food, he disapproved of eating from the spoon. This resulted in a scream, a spasmodic head movement, and the infantile plastic ware toss. So Mommy and Daddy had to learn; let Son #2 eat with his hands. The interesting thing was that it was not only about the method of nourishment delivery but also the nourishment itself. He didn’t want baby food, he wanted our food. For the last six months, we make meals in accordance with what Son #2 can eat with his hands. He enjoys bananas, meat, pizza, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, pasta of any variety, bananas, waffles, tortillas, toast, eggs, fruit, crackers, avocado, and bananas. Did I mention he likes bananas?

Never show a banana to Son #2 unless you’re ready to let him devour it. Otherwise, his air raid siren like howl will sound in displeasure. If there’s a banana in the room, house, neighborhood, or city, he’ll find it. There are infrared and heat seeking weapons manufactured by my employer, but I’m certain that if we could channel his banana-sensing abilities in a smart technology format, we could license it the U.S. Government, develop a new homing technology, and find the latest terror cell, or at least find a banana crop in South America. We have learned that if you give him the whole thing, he will put the entire banana in his mouth. He’s like a human banana blender. But to successfully forego choking on the mushiness, we give him half at a time.


Today is Son #2’s first birthday. Unfortunately, no celebrating for me as I get to enjoy the consumption of the finest beverage in the form of chilled PEG-3350. That’s pretty much antifreeze. Son #2 was a miracle child that we were never expected to have. Psychologically, we began to accept that there wouldn’t be a second child. It took me well over a year to get it through my thick skull. At the point of acceptance, my wife had an appointment to begin medical improvements on her health only to find out she was pregnant. I can vividly remember the tears of that day. Son #1 and I sat in the waiting room of the women’s clinic playing cars, when my wife emerged crying. Son #1 asked at the top of his lungs the reasons for her tears. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out but we had to remove ourselves from the public eye so the information could be fully disclosed. Although unexpected and unfounded, Son #2 was miraculously growing in my wife.

Unexpected and difficult, that’s Son #2’s modus operandi. Adjusting to the surprise news, having another little boy, dealing with the demanding new mouth to feed, and handling all of the changes has led us through a new chapter of lessons. This year has been a journey. Happy birthday!

There’s always some sort of angst and competition between the two largest institutes of higher education in our state. That can be in the athletic arena, the education arena, and more often than not, in the familial arena. In the state of Washington, you pick sides, play favorites, and ultimately, talk shit. Families are divided and curse words are thrown. I have had the fortunately and unfortunately dubious honor of attending both for each one of my degrees.

In my humble opinion, which is always correct here, is that you declare your allegiance to the institute where you earned your undergraduate degree. Why? You spent the most time on campus and in the classroom for that milestone in your life. You are a part of the culture and the fabric of the university. My second degree, while arguably harder due to time commitments and personal/professional obligations, came by taking night classes on a branch campus in one-third the amount of time as my undergraduate degree. Proud of this advanced degree I am, but ashamed that I had to ‘slum’ at the other university to achieve its accolades.

All competitiveness aside, both universities do much for the local and the global community. It would be hard to deny the immense value that the Medical Sciences colleges at University of Washington has created with its relentless pursuit of medical and life science breakthroughs. But inarguably, one of the greatest innovators across multiple sciences and a diverse cross section of industries is Washington State University. Of course, I am somewhat biased in this regard but I would strongly suggest that before you cast my assertions aside that you research and do your homework on both schools. The resumes of community involvement and technological innovation at both are world renowned. However, WSU has a pride and tradition in pushing the boundaries and raising the bar of expectation in a diverse set of researches that are well recorded.

Equally so, Washington State University is extremely creative in their branding and promotions. Their work is classic in design and efficient in communication. The creative marketing group at WSU works extremely hard to deliver the key messages of the University in all of its collateral and at all touch points. The brand identity of the university should be that of the classical topics addressed by HBS. Below are the Ad Spots which play on television to illustrate many of the projects in which the university is currently involved. Each succinct, very relevant, and poignant:

ORIGINAL AD SPOTS

Economies of Developing Countries


Bioremediation of Water Resources


Bone Replacement


NEW AD SPOTS

Drought-Tolerant Crops


Antimatter


Animal/Human Health


Biofuels


I am very proud that my undergraduate alma mater is heavily involved in the betterment of societies around the globe. The university is truly focused on leaving this planet better than it found it. I applaud my fellow alumni, the classes of students in all of the colleges, the world-class faculty and facilities, and the donors and sponsors who provide the means to execute on the fundamental goals of the university. While I’ve had the opportunity to attend both major educational institutions in this state, my heart and passion still lie with the university where I spent my most collegiate days, learned life lessons, studied extremely hard, developed life-long friendships, built a brotherhood of men, and bled crimson over every related activity. There is something indescribable and indisputable about the culture and atmosphere of the university and its surroundings. This can not be duplicated easily, or even worse, described accurately to do it any justice or explain to the uninitiated. Go Cougs!

In lieu of a lack of time and creativity at this exact moment, let me use an overused sports cliché to summarize my latest entry in this blogosphere. I dropped the ball. This is “New Music Monday” but unfortunately, and strangely uncharacteristically, we didn’t acquire any new music albums to our catalog. Over the month, I’ve spent an inordinate amount creative energy on the scripting of the entertainment for Son #2’s upcoming birthday. That project left me in a lurch for time. I searched out new music, even added to my spreadsheet. At the end of the day, I just didn’t buy anything new.

However, I thought back on a group which has seen a lot of play time in my car, MP3 player, and laptop. On occasion, I have used their tunes on this blog to help set the mood and audibly tell the story of my feelings. This album isn’t new nor is it innovative or epic, but it does have listenability and is moderately entertaining.

The band is The Becoming and their debut album is “Vol. 1” released in 2008. I suppose it’s a little presumptuous to call your debut album “Vol. 1.” It almost begs for failure resulting in no chance for a “Vol. 2.” I suppose in a fickle and bureaucratically driven industry like music, you have to be a little confident in your abilities and continually sell yourself as better than the last version of you.

Two words. Christian. Gothic. Now, you wouldn’t expect to use either of those in the same context unless you were a member of one of the groups and were complaining about the intolerance or deprecation of the other. I’ll use them both together here. I estimate that The Becoming is a Christian Gothic heavy metal act. I remember when I saw photos of the band. I was hesitant to buy the album based on their look even though I had heard one single. One thing I’ve lived by in my years is not judging a book by its cover. With enough eyeliner to fill a makeup counter, more body art than an ambitious tattoo artist can do in a week, and an array of perfectly crafted emo hair styles, The Becoming can certainly stand out. But the music is good.

What makes them Gothic? The Becoming borrows everything that is typical and predictive in gothic music. Over-orchestration of strings. Heavy guitar work. Processed ethereal synthesizers and melancholy piano work. Dark and brooding choral sections. A daring and lingering lead voice. Stock in Maybelline.

What makes them Christian? The Becoming has a religious-themed message. This doesn’t necessarily constitute this labeling nor have the band claimed this genre. Typical gothic music is about funerals, blood letting, death, vampire-like ideals, graves; you know, the bright stuff. None of that exists here, just lyrics about heartache, self deficiency, letting go of it, and embracing something pure.

It’s almost paradoxical being a gothic band entrenched in philosophical messaging. Confusing, yet strangely intriguing. The album does have its imperfections and the music is formulaic. Verse/Chorus/Verse/Chorus/Break/Chorus. In this instance, it’s acceptable. It’s not one of those albums that you need to listen to 20 times to have it grow on you. The melodies used on here are enough to hook you after one listen. But the thing I noticed that had me coming back are the vocals. The lead singer’s abilities and tone are the perfect accompaniment to the music; Dark and heavy, but linger with every word sung. It’s very ‘Johnny Cash’ in how it’s sung/spoke.

For review, let’s take three distinctly different songs in terms of topic, arrangement, and energy to give a cross section of the album.

Dressed in Black – The opening track starts with a punch to set the tone. There is heavy use of distorted swelling guitar filled in with a synth track very Depeche Mode meets NIN. It’s somewhat of a sonic explosion within the different sections; use of samples, synth-created choir voices, strings, and piano accompaniment. Overcoming the darkness of grief we all experience from loss is the message here in the lyrics.

Your Love – There’s no question that this song could easily classify The Becoming as a Christian band. While close to being denominational, the lyrics touch on the concept of ‘is there more out there?’ Something we all grapple with. Musically, it reminds me of older glam rock with the crunchy distortion and the grinding of the guitars during the verses. To accompany the driven guitar and drums, there is ample synth work to fill out the sound.

Somebody Didn’t Come Home Last Night – This is the most solemn song on the album. It is a melancholy song about regret accompanied by only a piano and a minor amount of strings toward the end. This song shows that the over-processed gothic feel of the other songs can easily share the message with songs of minimalism and elegance.


(enjoy the low-budget, 1980's-feel video)

Depending on your perspective, you may find The Becoming offensive and a disappointment, or creative and genre-bending. The hardcore gothic followers will approve of the appearance but will detest the sappy ‘hope’ lyricism. The Christian music followers may disapprove of the excessive iconography and makeup but will relate to the essence of the message behind the music. The professional music reviewer may point out the predictability and the lack of anything musically innovative on the album. It’s not memorable or epic.

I’m none of these and agnostic when it comes to my musical interests. I listen to music that I can find a message in, music that shares the identical feelings as me at that moment, something that lingers with me after the music ends. “Vol. 1” may lack the energy or the fabric to make it a truly memorable album in the mainstream. But, the reason for listening to music is not because ‘everyone else likes it, so I should’ or because of a band’s stock in Maybelline, but to connect and resonate at a personal emotional level.

On an unrelated note. It's been a quick year of blogging and have a large backlog of entries to post. That, combined with a busy December, suggests that this last month of the year will be blowin' up the family blog. Watch out for some new family stuff coming soon!

One thing my wife and I have talked about over the years is the need for a person to exist in a ‘comfortable’ place. And when I say place, I don’t mean physical surroundings. I’m referring to the metaphysical place of existence for spiritual beings. Comfort in your skin, if you will. For example, we all grow up change clothing styles, change our hair, try to be preppy, try to be a jock, try to be Goth, whatever. We changes friends, change cities, and change our thinking along this path of discovery of self identity. We’ve watched this in both ourselves and our friends. Self identification is a funny thing. Most people don’t like who they are so they stay in constant motion to try and become ‘who they are supposed top be.’ I’m not being judgmental here. I’m no different.

Over the last five years I’ve been inarguably returning to my inner teen. If you are following on the calendar, this directly coincides with the knowledge of the impregnation of my wife with our first born son. Now, my wife would have you know that I’ve always been grounded in a little immaturity, both in appearance and in behavior far earlier than that. In fact, we stopped at a bar in our old neighborhood of Belmont Shore a few years back. The bouncer imperatively asked, “ID?” My wife was flattered until the happenstance of this event actually registered with her that it was me, and not her, that was being requested of said ID. In her defense, our ages are not significantly different. Yet, my board shorts, Fox tee shirt, and backwards cap may have had something to do with the inquisition.

All appearances aside, I typically gravitate toward more youthful interests. It’s just my thing. But I think this characteristic is a function of what I’m speculating at here. It’s that we all gravitate toward the comfortable points in our lives. We’re always trying to find who we are, and along the way, the light clicks on and its beams are shed on that period where you felt the most comfortable in your skin. Strangely enough for me, it was when I was an angst ridden and confused adolescent skateboarder.

As my interests and behavior come full circle and settle back into my early teen years, I find old memories resurfacing and a need to resuscitate some of the old me. It’s not that I had it all figured out then (or now for that matter). It just felt good to be alive. Now in this phase of my life where I’m a father figure, I’m channeling the old spirits of me to validate this new existence. Not to misconstrue my feelings on my current life, what makes it great is that the past spirits are actively involved in this new existence. I’ve settled back in to the punk rock skater that defined me as a youth.

As you re-embrace old interest/habits/vices, it’s important to have a supporting cast. My wife has been hugely supportive in my excavation of the early teen me. She advocated my purchase of a new skateboard five years ago, smiled as I skated off to work and laughed under breath, and she snapped pictures of our boys standing on my board as they grew. More importantly, she patiently listened as I blasted kids these days trying to skateboard, not understanding the history and the sacrifices, and using it as an image.

In that early teen stage, skateboarding was my basis of existence. Everything revolved around the next hand rail, launch ramp, or shred session. School, homework, girls, family, and even eating were behind skating. I have so many great memories from that era of my life. As cliché as it is, these memories are a coming of age story where I was learning about how the world viewed me. In the mid 1980’s, skateboarding was not fashionable. We were outcasts and defiant youth. That got us in to trouble but it also strengthened our resolve. We didn’t need to be ‘accepted.’ I learned early on that peoples’ dismissive thoughts were nothing more than their perception and not my reality. As long as I was honest and committed to myself, the world would begin to comprehend the true identity of my existence. Skateboarding gave me an outlet and irrefutable evidence that I can define my own identity and not have to exist in a predetermined rule set categorized by detractors.

So my new thing, while rediscovering my comfortable self, is trying to obtain the old skate decks I rode over the years. However, this is no small order as both the industry and the world have changed. I’ve been casually looking around and have come up pretty empty handed. There are two big challenges here: One, I can’t remember all of the decks I’ve ridden. And two, how can I find decks that are from an era long since past? Is this really a value-added activity in my home? Probably not, but it is yet another reason to create an elaborate spreadsheet to capture research information, availability, and pricing.


While my excavator efforts in reclaiming the depths of my action sports history may have no relevance on your life, I caution you in prematurely writing off my madness. Take a step back and consider what I am suggesting here. We, as adults, have settled in a ‘stage’ that is reminiscent of a life in our past. This postulate may not be entirely true for everyone. Some people just grow old and become curmudgeons who wear Birkenstocks and socks and whine about the youth of today and their parents. Those folks just try to avoid being happy anyway. But most of us, the free thinkers, the livers, and the vibrant souls, have grown up but not old. We have found something at our core that brings us peace and we treasure that. It’s a small thread of a great woven fabric that makes up our existence. It’s why there are cougars. It’s why grown men wear professional sports jerseys. It’s why adult women read teenage vampire stories. It’s why 35 year old boys skateboard. There is a piece of purity and immaturity in all of us from years back that we embrace.

BEFORE WE GET STARTED, THERE SEEMS TO BE TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES WHICH ARE CAUSING MULTIPLE EMAIL UPDATES. MY APOLOGIES ON THIS MATTER.

In honor of the most recent Hallmark holiday which has so effortlessly sucked time, energy, and finances from our home while delivering intrigue, entertainment, and creativity to all, I’ll modestly opine about our latest seasonal extravaganza. All Hallow’s Eve has just passed through our home like a cold autumn wind.

I would strongly assess that this holiday is my lovely life-partner’s favorite. All though, I could easily be incorrect on this based on the volumetric inventory ownership of other holiday décor. Our garage is full of polymeric containment bins full of her seasonal adornments. Christmas probably has the highest inventoried level of accouterments based on my objective assessments. But her pride in procurement and precision in the execution of Halloween ornamentation conclusively suggests that it reigns supreme on our household Hallmark holiday objectification.

I typically detest and avoid most imperatively acknowledged holidays prescribed on the calendar. Halloween in particular, I’ve been quite aloof in the observation of its existence. Don’t get me wrong, I support my wife in her bliss in preparation for said holidays, but I do not share the same, or any, enthusiasm. Moreover, when it comes to donning a guise in some sort of grandeur, I usually participate on a timeline 1/7 that of Halley’s Comet. Uncharacteristically, I chose to unleash a new course of behavior for this holiday to accompany the spirit of the season (and to make my wife happy).

COSTUMES (YOUTH):
The standard of excellence was set this year when my wife and her consortium crafted the Hollywood-equivalent wardrobe plan for the costumes of the children. In total, there are seven disruptive boys in our circle. The ‘board of directors’ for costume design voted and it was unanimously decided that the boys would be the seven dwarfs. And conveniently, my niece would be Snow White. With a quick addition, the son of my brother-in-law’s female partner would replace Son #2 as a dwarf. Son #2 thus became the more appropriate bad apple from the literature.

All of the costumes for the dwarfs were crafted in homemade fashion by my mother, including the apple for Son #2. Needless to say this was a large scope of work and kept everyone busy up until the day before the festivities. My wife burned the midnight oil to stitch on patches and adjust belts. And with the last stitch and poke of a finger, all of the dwarf costumes were fitted, complete, and ready for exhibition on Halloween.


PUMPKINS:
One can’t celebrate or observe Halloween without the acquisition of pumpkins. On a trip to a local market, I discovered the existence of white variety. Without any concepts, I claimed we would ONLY carve white pumpkins this year. Needless to say, the best laid plans never seem to work out as we ended up with orange ones. I had hoped to take the boys to a local pumpkin patch to burn off some of the seasonal exuberance. The local farm had all of the fixings one would want for the season; a corn maze to lose your children in, hay rides for the allergy-challenged, activities for the un-budget-minded consumer, and fields of billions of multicolored Cucurbita Moschata for your picking pleasure.

Needless to say, we never made it to this epicenter of seasonal love due to the affliction of disease in our domicile and the oh-so-often working demands of ‘The Man.’ With two days left before Halloween; we sucked it up and visited the church where Son #1 attends pre-school. This religious facility had its own makeshift patch of pumpkins. We were left with the scrapings and leftovers but were able to narrow our selection to two orange orbs of carving goodness.


COSTUMES (ADULT):
The gauntlet had been thrown down with the execution of the dwarf costumes. My wife informed me that she and her consortium were going to dress as she-devils. Is this different than every day? She concluded with saying that she’d entertain wearing a costume that could be partnered with me, meaning I would need a costume. Knowing my abhorrence for a certain vampire movie based in Forks, Washington, my loving wife suggested that she and I could masquerade as the main adolescent couple of the film. No.

To conform to the predetermined and partially assembled dwarf theme, she and I agreed to follow the Disney lead. However, with a twist and a reincarnation of character, I decided to add my own tinge to our selection. The choice was Alice and the Mad Hatter. But instead of the colorful cartoonlike adornments created by the mouse-eared conglomerate, I chose to take my character along a darker path while my wife morphed her costume into a version consistent with the most popular perused electronic content on the internet. The understatement of the year: she looked ‘very’ good. The Mad Hatter took a turn a la Johnny Depp with my creation of the character in honor of the upcoming Tim Burton release. Goodwill, JoAnn Fabrics, and a moderate amount of construction led to an astonishing product that impressed others, scared kids, and won a costume contest on the Seattle Times.


PARTY:
Our annual observation of All Hallow’s Eve concludes with our hosting of family and friends at our home with dinner, trick-or-treating, and adult beverages. This year was no different except for the number in attendance may have doubled from prior year. At one point during the evening, there were approximately 10 children under the age of seven in costume. Now, multiply that by the accompanying adults and you have a small village. The masses were fed this year with a cornucopia of festive edible selections. Everything from chicken, to ghost cookies, to mummy dogs, to pumpkin seeds were served for consumption. There was no shortage of youth and adult type beverages for drinkability. I too partook in the jovial consumption with a tea cup continually filled with carefully crafted home-brew ales.

We paraded the dwarfs and accompanying children through the neighborhood to pillage families for confectionary sweets and treats. In character, the dwarfs sauntered up and down the walkways of the neighborhood singing the Hi-Ho tune at the top of their lungs. Back at our abode, the dwarfs inspected and consumed their pirate booty. And as for the rest of us, we drank and ate then drank more. It’s always interesting to observe how party patrons disband through out the night leaving the core hard core celebrators left. This is a role I, and others, embellish. So much so that Alice’s blond wig made the rounds for proper photogenic opportunities.


Another successfully executed holiday. Hallmark holiday or not, I admit I had a great time in costume. I will be renting it out next year. You know, it is an award winning concept. All that being said, the stakes will be much higher for next Halloween, both in party execution and costume design.

For this review on 'New Music Monday,’ I was left with a challenge of picking one of the three albums we gained in October. In September, it was a fairly easy choice. I opted to pick the album that I enjoyed listening to more than one that may have been more musically challenging. For me, the experience of listening isn’t always about the cerebral dissection of the arrangement. A lot of the time, I just want to be entertained without trying to write a thesis. This month, there are no odds on favorites to get my attention. Each is strong in the merit of music and entertainment. So how do I pick?

Here we go: All three were eagerly anticipated. One of them, I felt completely humbled as I listened. It was like a ghost was talking to me. My feelings for that band run pretty deep. Because of that, I think my normally oh-so-objective writing may be tainted. The remaining two, one is a pet project of one of my favorite performers and the second is a relatively unknown EP release from a female-fronted hardrock band. I am a sucker for all female bands and bands with female lead singers. Winner: female-fronted band. With the choice made, I can move forward on this hotly anticipated review I’m sure you are all on the edge of your seat to read.

The Letter Black is a Pennsylvania-based band signed on the local Tooth and Nail Records. Having an acquaintance who once worked at the label put me in earshot of some of the most poignant musicians I had ever heard. I occasionally peruse the T&N website to see the latest releases. Upon one enchanted visit, I read of band to which I had never heard, The Letter Black. It used to go by the name Breaking the Silence which is coincidentally the name of the EP. If you know anything about Tooth and Nail, the label very rarely signs a band out of alignment with the label’s “directives.” This is a band firmly in line with those. It’s hugely uplifting despite the heaviness of the music.


It has one of those important characteristics that a good record must have. I can relate to it. TLB talks about faith, poor decisions, moving on, and believing in something Divine. It doesn’t hurt that the lead singer is easy on the eyes. As I said, I like female-fronted bands. TLB is the husband and wife team of Sarah and Mark Anthony with Sarah doing the lead vocals and Mark doing the lead guitar work. Saying this album is heavy musically and has a female lead singer will immediately get comparisons to mainstream acts like Paramore, Flyleaf, and Evanescence. The difference here, in my opinion, is the sincerity of The Letter Black.

Find it here: http://www.lala.com/#album/576742229319526817/The_Letter_Black/Breaking_The_Silence

There are significant musical differences here, specifically in production direction, when compared to those three. TLB is rawer and doesn’t have the overdone multi-tracking on guitars and vocals to fill out the sound. It’s rougher and darker and less nu-metal than the others. I would call this emo-Christian metal if I needed to put it in a filing cabinet. Listening to just the music, TLB sounds a bit like Dogfight. But as you listen to the EP, you pick up on subtle influences from genres other than just metal. The appealing characteristic here is the urgency in Sarah’s voice. There is a level of sincerity, almost pleading, in her singing. I was a fan of Amy Lee but got tired of the operatic flight in her voice. Sarah’s singing, while shrill, is convincing and is bent more to a punk rock ear.

With only six tracks on the EP, you don’t get too much material to evaluate their musical chops. Interestingly, this is enough to get a feel of what’s important to the band and to know it’s hugely motivated by Faith. This, to me, is refreshing to hear, and has a huge place in my heart and musical catalogue. So this is less of a review and more of ‘this is why I like this band.’ So let’s pick two songs to give a cross section of the EP Breaking the Silence by The Letter Black. For the record, neither of these are the best on the EP nor are they my favorite. (It’s ‘Perfect’ I suggest a listen to this one LOUD)

Collapse – The most obvious trait here is the honesty of the lyrics. There’s no metaphorical code to decipher, no waxing poetic, just flat out telling it like it is. Like I mentioned above, there is an urgent and fragile sound to Sarah’s voice. I would say that this song is ‘on brand’ for TLB. The drum line is heavy and marching but not at a break-neck pace, just a steady punch to the soul. The power chords drip over the beat in a dark melting wax type of way. I get the vision of a dark room, dimly lit with candles, and the lead singer staring out of the window further in to the darkness of the night.

Best of Me – If there was a math theorem for the creation of a hit alt-rock radio song, it was used here in the writing of this song. Let’s see; use of strings + formulaic repeated chorus + anthemic lyrics + multilayered vocals + acoustic guitar. It’s pop-alt-rock borderline emo-country-something-or-other. Again, there’s a massive amount of sincerity in the lyrics and their delivery. But musically, it’s addictive like crack to listen to. It’s an ‘I-can-relate-to-this-song’ type of song.



I’ve never been outwardly religious. Let me rephrase that. I’m not a formal practitioner of brick-and-mortar-church-sanctioned-religio-indoctrinated followings. Mostly this was because I don’t like being told what to believe and not being allowed to interpret meaning. But I’ve been fortunate to have individuals in my life that have encouraged me to find and explore my spiritual beliefs in a way that was most beneficial to me. These same people introduced me to bands like Third Day and Jars of Clay. Yes, these are NOT punk bands but they are bands I recommend for their spiritual depth, musicality, and lyrical poignancy. The Letter Black is one of those bands.

Opportunities to learn more about yourself always seem to crop up at the most inopportune times. I suppose that’s what makes these moments the most poignant. They stay with you longer when attention is brought at the moment of inconvenience. For example, if you like to drive with no pants on while texting your Uncle Bob and get in a car wreck doing it, the next time you’ll probably consider wearing trousers so that when you get out of the car to inspect the damage in your ill-contrived desire to be temperately ‘cooler’ when driving, you will not be embarrassed by your bare white behind in plain sight.

I digress. Now I don’t drive without pants nor do I have an Uncle Bob. Regardless, I had one of those moments today where I was educated by the universe on what matters.

A typical Saturday in my house is usually triple booked. There’s never a shortage for activities and obligations. This was the final weekend of operation of the Whistler Bike Park before winter. Wanted to hit that one last time. It was Homecoming at my undergrad Alma Mater. Despite my college football team’s inability to field a successful squad, I still held on to the hope of making the trip to Pullman. Beer flavored water. Lastly and most importantly, Son #1’s weekly ‘soccer’ game was on the schedule.

In the essence of full disclosure, I wasn’t too excited to head to the Panda soccer game today. I didn’t get too much choice in the matter. For one, I wouldn’t want to disappoint Son #1. In fact, he was concerned this morning that I wouldn’t be back in time from my bike ride to make it to his game. And second, I’m the assistant coach on the Pandas’ team. You see, the Pandas haven’t been real competitive over their three games. But the head coach and I continue to work with them on learning to dribble, pass, and score goals. I keep telling myself that they’re only four years old. This point alone has given me an unwanted lesson in learning patience and the appreciation for the purity of fun while playing sports long before winning, losing and statistics.

We’ve taken some beatings. Last Saturday we were trumped by a score somewhere close to 6-0. But we don’t ‘keep score.’ Today no bike jump or keg could have satisfied the unparalleled joy experienced while helping coach the Pandas to their first ‘un-scored’ victory. We saw our team mark their opponents, steal the ball, save goals, change directions, and score literally a dozen goals. There’s a kid on our team that you watch and just know he’s going to have a ton of success in whatever sport he chooses. He’s a great little kid who plays hard, takes instruction, and always gives you the thumbs up for approval. Today, he came uncorked and scored seven goals.

Four year old kid soccer is more like a swarm of bees than a soccer game. All of the kids, minus the ones who are dancing, singing, or not paying attention, create a scrum around the ball with elbows thrown, shoving, and body blows. But today, there were break away goals where our team decided that wrestling for the ball was passé. It was a break through. Son #1’s teammate had those seven goals, but he made many great ‘team style’ plays. Defending and passing to his teammates. But the big picture was that EVERY Panda wanted to play and participate. My position is on the sideline making the substitutions and keeping the kids who are not playing energized. Today, took very little effort to keep them fired up. All of the kids were ready and were constantly asking me to put them in the game. A complete team playing well and having fun is infectious and breeds more fun and excitement. The kids played so hard and had so much fun. As a coach, and a father of a player, I don’t think I could be more proud of our team’s success today, scoring or not.

That leads me to the lessons today. Son #1 had a rough morning. His latest thing is to try and negotiate when he ‘should’ do what he is told. That, getting him to eat his lunch, and getting him to get dressed were all challenges. My wife and I asked him, “Who is going to score a goal today?” God forbid we put too much pressure on our unfocused child. He responded with a despondent, “I’ll try but it’s just so hard.” That remark made me wonder if he was even having fun. I was worried that I was ‘that parent’ focused on pushing his child too hard to ‘ensure’ that the kid was having fun. Pushing to have fun is not right. Lesson #1.

We all wondered what the 7-goal Panda was eating at home to cause this. But he wasn’t the only one that surprised us. Son #1 scored today. As a matter of fact, he scored three unanswered goals and was the second highest scorer on the team. This is the beginning of Lesson #2. No matter what’s going on, when the unreal expectations you have set for your child are beat like a pack mule and are completely blown away, you feel totally throttled with emotion.


After stepping into the scrum and liberating the ball from its oppression, Son #1 broke free at midfield and headed toward the goal. All by himself, he booted in his first goal of the game and the season. Watching this happen was surreal. I wish time would have stopped for me to just cherish that small moment. It happened so fast. That first goal. I was on the other end of the field with the rest of the team but I saw the play develop and was beside myself. As he headed toward the goal, I worried he’d stop dribbling and start dancing. That’s his thing. But he kept on and booted the ball into the goal with authority. When the ball rolled over that line and hit the back of the net, my arms raised high and my eyes welled up with the largest tears of joy. For the next few seconds, I struggled to wipe the tears from my eyes and remain composed. There was cheering but I was so lost in my son’s action that I heard nothing but the silence of a smile all the way across the field. Absolute, undeniable joy and pride.

Son #1 went on to score two more goals today. After that third goal, he ran over to me during the game to inform me of his feat. Three goals. While I haven’t written too much about how I felt, know that no alternate activity could have compared to the purest sense of pride a father can have in his son. Yes, it was only soccer and only three goals, but his actions blew me away today. Lesson #2 is there is nothing more valuable than seeing your child succeed and knowing that he is enjoying that moment in his success. I will always love that.

For those of you who frequent the ramblings on this blog, you may remember that I deemed the last Monday of every month to be “New Music Monday.” My theory was that on this epic day, I’d incrementally increase the volume of our music catalog. Then, I would spend some time listening to the new addition, or additions, let the sound percolate and bounce around in my head, and eventually write up my own little review. What I found is that I am not patient enough to wait until the end of the month to buy new music. So let’s retool here. I am going to ‘try’ to write my review on the last Monday of each month and buy music whenever. I’m all ready late on my first issue. Shit.

September was a great month to be a music listener in my house. One word that describes how I feel about music: Substance. It’s like a friend you can always count on. Everywhere you turn, it’s there. I like that kind of reliability. I encountered a lot of new ‘friends’ in September. So getting to know each album was a daunting challenge. However, one record stuck out more than any other. The reason, as I will describe in further depth below, is because it encompassed many of the great things I like about music. I could hear so many influences on the record, artists and groups that also influenced me, so that I felt like I was listening to a family member talk to me.


The SoCal punk group Orange has been around for some time. There have been some changing of the guard through the years but the front man, Joe Dexter, and the vision of the band are still intact. Orange released its new album, Phoenix, on September 15, 2009. I wasn’t expecting it. As a matter of fact, my overall exposure to Orange was very limited. Like zero. However, I was listening to satellite radio when it got my attention and I scribbled the name of the band and song down on a post-it. Thanks to Lala.com and high speed bandwidth provided by the nation’s largest cable provider, I downloaded the latest Orange record.

Find it here: http://www.lala.com/#album/360569445168190460

So what is Orange? Do you mean the color? No, as I said above, it’s a SoCal punk band. It’s not as angry as Pennywise, as political as the Dead Kennedys, as comedic as the Offspring, or as fabricated as Story of the Year. Orange sits nicely in between these groups. It’s an entertaining almost-pop melodic punk that encourages the punk rowdiness through the music but lifts through its lyrics. No bashing the ‘Man’ here. Most of these songs are about feelings. So that makes Orange borderline emo on this record but the rest assured, the sound is confidently punk. I was giddy to listen to it as each track was upbeat and flowed into the next. The energy easily carries you through the record front to back. But there was no “Oh my God, this is the most amazing album I have ever heard.” It was more along the lines of being easily entertained by stories I could relate to or feelings that I have had. The songs, while not overly different musically from one another, allowed me to sit in the passenger seat of life for a minute and get an alternate take on the whole ‘feelings’ concept.

Phoenix has 12 tracks, covers a broad range of the musical spectrum, and draws on the diverse influences of the band. While I have listened to very little earlier Orange albums, I can say that Phoenix stretches the band both musically and lyrically as they try to develop their signature sound and mix genres. There is definitely a common Orange ‘theme’ through the record but each song pulls on its own uniquely creative strings. However, in lieu of time and wordiness, I am going to evaluate four of the songs which I feel give a fair slice of objectivity through the band’s recent release.

Standing Still – I would say that this is probably the most un-punk song on the album and was the first single off of it. This song has the most instrumentation of any of the other tracks. I personally like the whole xylophone action on it. I hear a lot of influence from the Cure on this song and I think musically that’s what catches me.

Everything I Need – This song just jumps right in like any good punk song should. You are immediately hit with a driving beat and guitar riff. The lyrics are introspective which is dangerously close to emo. The difference, no whining like a teenager who thinks they’re misunderstood. In my opinion, this is the best song on the record as the music changes direction multiple times and the message is right on.

Never Going Out Again – This song has such and east coast punk feel to it. It really reminds me of the Ramones. The chorus is an anthem and I can just visualize arms raised as this song is played in a club. Lyrically, the irony of not wanting to be like others but then following the herd is pretty accurate.

Catching Up – This song has the random chanting at the beginning that reminds me of a soccer game. I just want to slide tackle someone. The guitar work on this song is proto-typical crunchy SoCal punk. The lyrics are delivered with authority which reminds me of Rancid or the Misfits. I am sucker for SoCal punk.

If I had to set out must haves in a record, Phoenix by Orange would have hit most of them head on. The biggest one, does it keep my attention? The answer is yes. The big thing is that you can hear the diverse influences of the band. But it’s one thing to be influenced and it is another thing to copy. Orange does a great job pulling together their influences and using them appropriately in their music to yield an exceptional result. Most of the songs have outstanding choruses and all are anthemic and optimistic. Seems a little counter-intuitive for punk, right? Well there are several songs that are darker and there is even a cover of a Lou Reed piece called “Perfect Day.”

Overall, I would recommend Orange and their newest album Phoenix. It may not be innovative in its exploration of new themes or challenging when it comes to complex time or key changes, or even complex arrangements. But the music is energetic and the lyrics are encouraging. I personally like the fact that the band is not afraid to show an emotional side with a punk-type sensibility. I guess I can relate to this being the handful that I am.

Over the last two weeks, I have been inundated with and overly excessive amount of daily work activities which have kept from even thinking about my next entry here. It was one of the first times in my life where I was completely unable to fabricate some small piece of time to outlet a little creativity. For the most part, I have been pretty unhappy with how demanding life has been recently. There has been no shortage of obligations, commitments, and responsibilities. The incredible vacuum like sound of time being sucked right out of life has become the topic of discussion here.

This entry will definitely be more of a plethora of thoughts and happenings that have bestowed both positive and negative inspiration on me these last few demanding weeks. Based on pre-described rules I’ve mentioned in another post, I can’t discuss the near nazi-like, soul-clenching, life-draining demands of employment. Needless to say, the activities in the office have put a strangle hold on the neck of creativity for a many days. Just the amount of time needed in the day to meet deadlines was so excessive that I couldn’t even approach a topic shyly like a twelve year old at a junior high dance. To make matters worse, there was what is called a ‘Reduction in Force’ in the work place. Despite being worked like a pack mule, we were all waiting for our one-on-one meetings with management only to learn of our no longer needed useless skills sets. There is strange irony in working your ass off only to find out your position is a ‘surplus.’ To make a long story longer, I wasn’t reduced. This comes as both good and bad news. There’s a piece of me that needed the ultimatum to be reached. Then there is the responsible side that has the voice of my mother whispering in its ear about playing along and appreciating that I have steady income and healthcare from a global conglomerate.

Now that I’ve broke that rule, on to my next topic. I’ve mentioned that I am now the proud father of a soccer player. Son #1 is on a soccer team for four year olds called the Pandas. The name alone inspires fear in the masses, or at least scares the shit out of bamboo trees. To date, they have had a total of four practices which range in the volume of focus by the players and the amount of water breaks given by the coach. I have to keep reminding myself that these kids are only four years old. But I feel like we needed an hour (or ten) more of practice to explain some of the subtleties of teamwork and, I don’t know, maybe the game of soccer. So I volunteered to assist in keeping these hellions focused, enthused, and running. The first game has come and gone and if we were keeping score, I would estimate that the final score was 4-0. Pandas on the losing end of it. But because this is for ‘fun,’ we are not keeping score. I will say this based on my observations: While tough to communicate field boundaries, direction, teamwork, passing, competition, and the overall ‘feel’ of the game, the one thing that transcends and is totally understood is the purity of fun. Smiles. It is obvious in the Pandas’ smiles.



Next up: wedding anniversary. As a husband/male you are bound by some sort of rule set or societal obligation to fulfill some sort of ‘Oh he is such a sweetheart’ comment issued by your wife’s friends. I hate this pressure. When I am planning something for my wife or out shopping for her, I am constantly playing the ‘What did he do for you?’ track in my head. Because if your wife can’t answer this question with a beaming smile and equally beaming piece of jewelry or latest in fashion couture, you’re worthless drudge of slime found under the salty docks of the tide flats in Commencement Bay. Believe me, I’ve been there literally and philosophically. In the weeks leading up to our anniversary, I repeatedly thought about traditional and modern gifts and how I could assemble something meaningful that would successfully answer the above womanly questions, score me points with the wife in order to build credit toward my next two-wheeled purchase, and ultimately eclipse others and shine the light of inadequacy on the significant others of my wife’s friends. Good plan, right? Well, I had intended on multiple research and shopping days to execute on this plan. The Man got in the way with professional obligations, meetings, projects, and the general exercise of killing your creative soul. Needless to say, I nearly ran out of time but I was able to squeeze some research in on one day and then made five total stops during my lunch break and after work the next day. I couldn’t show up to my own anniversary without a gift(s). Crisis avoided. Wife happy and the anniversary was a good day.


The overarching theme here is about time or the lack of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so consumed with every second of the day. They feel like they are just slipping through my hands. Think: cliché sands of time through your fingers here. I have always felt like I could handle everything thrown at me no matter the volume of responsibility or level of commitment. I would always find ways to milk a little more time out of the day. It’s like the enacting the Toyota philosophy upon my schedule management. For those of you who are not engineers or geeks like me, this is a reference to the Toyota manufacturing Lean philosophy of removing waste (not poop, but extra processes and useless handling) from the manufacturing system. As I grow up, I realize that it is a little more effort to manage the ever-slipping time resource. Man, where has the time gone.

On a positive note, I’m having a hard time feeling the effects of a downtrodden economy on my God-given ‘consumerial’ propensity to spend my hard-earned scratch on musical entertainment. That being said, I have a long list (read: spreadsheet) that continues to grow as I discover new music to add to our all ready expansive catalog. I seem to add music to the list faster than I can acquire it. Hence, the reason for the spreadsheet.

So I have decided to add a little bit of structure and form into my typically chaotic world of creativity. Now, I am pretty particular when it comes to music. Ask my wife about how I organize our catalog and she explain to you that my methods, while unorthodox, are completely unfounded and make no intuitional sense to anyone other than me. She is wrong. Read the past entries about our catalog and it totally makes sense. Anyway, back to the structure I mean to talk about.

I was talking to Son #1 the other night. I find his opinion on most of the stately issues around the house are pretty educated and spot on. I’d guess this is because he spends nearly every minute of his existence within the walls of his cage. We only let him out for feeding time and potty breaks. In the one-sided conversation, I brought up how Daddy has a plan for music in our house. He looked at me like, ‘What the hell is a plan, and why are you interrupting Yo Gabba Gabba.’ I explain to him that it’s important to have new music that we can enjoy and I am dubbing the last Monday of every month “New Music Monday” in our house. On that glorious day of existence, we will add new music to our catalog. He seemed unimpressed with my declaration and now was annoyed that I stood between him and the glowing digital screen of animated entertainment.

Yes. New music is released on Tuesdays from the industry. I know this and was reminded of this detail by my never-be-wrong loving partner. In my responsible young adult past, I used to refrain from attending pre-arranged educational settings (read: skip class) to be at Sam Goody, Musicland, or Budget Tapes to pick up that must-have album on its release date. Those places are gone these days. But we gots the internets now. So why not pick Tuesday? Well, it’s all about alliteration. New Music Monday not New Music Tuesday. It just doesn’t roll off the tongue. New Tunes Tuesday sounds like I should be watching the Disney Channel and pissing my pants over the Jonas Brothers. But more importantly, it is ‘new’ music being added to our catalog. This doesn’t mean it was just released and is the classic Merriam-Webster definition of ‘new.’ It could very well be this, but I am talking about ‘new’ to us.

Here is where I am going with this. If I’ve lost you in my rambling about Son #1, please let me steer you back on to the dilapidated track of my mind. On New Music Monday, I am going to procure new musical items for the catalog and plan delivering a creative yet compelling opinion of our latest addition for you, the reader. Why? One, I like to tell people what I think. Second, music is very important to MANY people in my life. I hope that I may be able to convey the slightest bit of inspiration to you and maybe influence you to try something new or consider something different when it comes to music. Besides, it’s pretty fun to talk about music anyway.

Don’t think of it as a review. I am not a professional musician or critic. I just know what I like and what resonates with me. At this point, you still must be confused where Son #1 fits into this decision. To be honest, I don’t really know. I just told him I was going to do this and he didn’t argue or whine about it. Knowing Son #1, this means that he doesn’t disapprove of it and by default, I consider this approval. So let’s go with that. So the plan is this: I completely intend on retaining my emotional right to continue to post my inner most thoughts and feelings on life’s impending disappointments. However, I am going to sprinkle in a little more editorial in the form of musical evaluation once a month.

DISCLAIMER: I wasn’t ready to add another entry today, but sometimes you don’t have control over the path in front of you. So I am writing on the tails of the last entry.

Intensely emotional moments happen to you at the most inconvenient yet poignant times through out your life. I consider them waypoints of growth and realization. I’ve been beginning the story board on Son #2’s 1st birthday music video. As I was looking for the appropriate music to tell the story I wanted to tell, I created a spreadsheet categorizing songs, artists, emotions, genres, and etc. that would aid the creative process and help me converge on a solution. During the research, I stumbled across an irregularly insignificant song only to be rediscovered today.

The interesting point is this: I downloaded the song well over a month ago, listened to it, and thought ‘yup, that’s a pretty good song.’ But it didn’t resonate with me. Partially because I was consumed in other projects and because you have to ‘be there’ at that moment to get it. This was just passing research to stay proactive on a project that I would normally wait until the last minute to start. So fast forward to today: I am at work, in my office, working for the Man, and trying to find new ways to get the mundane work day to pass with greater speed so I can get home to start packing for our vacation (or at least have a beer). As usual, my MP3 player is belting out the regularly scheduled music. Punk. Until that one moment.

That song came on that I initially dismissed and forgot. It was that song from a month ago. It’s not a Grammy winner, introspective, or even musically challenging. As the earphones were stuck in my ears, I turned the volume up, and was drenched in the music and the lyrics. The corporate world faded out of view for that almost four minute song. There was nothing but the message at that point. Love.

I need to find composure and strength as I write this because I’m sitting in my office literally balling over this song. I encourage all of you to listen and reflect on your lost loved ones. While I am a father and have not lost my own, I'm very fortunate to still have my hero in my life. But this song is dedicated to any father out there. Whether you have lost your own or look at your children as the next wave after you leave this Earth. Even more importantly, I really believe that anyone out there who has ever lost a piece of their heart when a loved one left suddenly will truly relate and connect with this song. It's the emotional shockwave that rocks the essence of your core.

I don’t care if you don’t like rock music, listen to the first track of this playlist here at the highest volume possible and tell your family you fucking love them before they are gone and you can’t say goodbye.

That’s all I have to say today. An intense emotional moment at an inappropriate time. It’s strangely inconvenient to cry in the office at a Fortune 500 company. Oh well. To my brother and my father, just like the song says, “I hope you always know the car that we built will always roll.”

In more ways than one.....

By nature, I have a limited tolerance for people. This makes it challenging to be a father of two radically different, yet defiant boys. Considering that, at times I have been unreasonably hard on Son #1. It’s hard to look at him and not see a youthful, passionate version of myself glaring right back at me. So much of his personality and behavior are identical to my own. My wife says I am horribly impatient with him and alternately, I am all goo-goo-ga-ga with Son #2. She may be right on with this assessment. Son #2 doesn’t talk back to me. I think it’s hard at times when you are aware of your own deficiencies and see those in your child. You want with every fiber of your being to shake them and explain to them that those attributes will get them no where. But you can’t. For one, the ‘authorities’ seem to think that shaking your kid is inappropriate. Second, nature has to run its course and evolve in your own offspring.


I suppose I’m writing this entry because of my guilt and pride in an ever conflicting combat to find balance. Son #1 is a daredevil, a go-getter, and an exhibitionist. But he is also impatient, introverted, and in fear of failure. He wants so bad to impress, succeed, and be considered great. This is nothing like me (sarcasm). It’s easy to take for granted how special he is in our life. He’s a product of the pain and suffering of the past and the fortune and the future for a family that needs stabilization and a something to gravitate its last remaining positive energy. The pressure of this on his soul is unfair.

“I never tell you how much I think about you. I have so many hopes and dreams for you. But there are two things that scare me. The first is like any young father, I live with a fear that I’ll never be able to provide an environment where you can extend yourself and attain your dreams. I scratch and claw at everything to enable you to have a peaceful childhood. The second fear is much more difficult to explain. My expectations are so high for everything and get easily disappointed when they are not met. I have this vision for you that is fairly nebulous with no hard boundaries or distinct outcomes. It worries me how hard I could push you to push yourself to reach these levels and alienate our relationship.

I don’t want any elements of intolerance to morph into resentment. I really worry that I could be the oppression in your life that I have always fought against. In an effort to get the feeling out there, I want to simply explain how proud I am of you right now. It’s pretty easy to lose focus on the aspects of life that are most important. Cars, bikes, evenings out with friends, jobs, and vacations are just a couple of things that distract us. I don’t want to lose that focus on you. I am trying to do my best at taking stock in every moment with you because our days together are finite. For over five years, the vision of you and what you mean to me has carried me through some of my darker thoughts. You’ve given me a lot of hope.

My mornings are rough before work, and everyone who knows me knows that I am not a morning person. Some people need coffee, I need punk rock. But each morning, I wake you up and take you to the bathroom to pee so you don’t have an accident. It has been months, and I could probably stop this routine in my before-I-go-to-work procedure, but I find that there’s something peaceful about being annoyed by waking you up EVERY morning. Here’s why: I woke you up this morning and things were no different than normal. You rolled over, rubbed your eyes, and sat up on you knees throwing your arms out signaling me to lift you up and carry you to the bathroom. You went about your business and walked under your own power back to your bed. I pulled the covers over you and gently rubbed your shoulder and told you ‘good job’ as always. Then, like one million times before, you smiled at me. And that’s it. That never gets old.

Moments like that remind me that no matter the setback or the accomplishment, I’ll always love you for everything you are and everything you are not. I may not always want to hear you ramble about the toys in the sandbox or the fact that your one billion Lightning McQueen toys are building a trail in my living room. But I’ll always want to see your smile and will always take stock in you being my son. I am hard on you because I know you are every bit of me inside that little body and behind those blue eyes.”

Son #1 is on to his next activity. Soccer. I’ve always felt it was the sport for the paraplegic because you didn’t need arms to play. But I have a new appreciation for the sport with the Sounders being in town. I’ve been watching the games, asking questions, and even attended a match. So I’m learning. My wife has been explaining to me that soccer is a great sport for learning teamwork and camaraderie. So is the Hitler Youth Brigade. I just see a lot of running and I have one rule about that. Only run when you are being chased by the cops. September 19th I will be a soccer dad. I’m kind of stoked about this and I’m now wondering what it would take to be a coach. Probably knowledge of the game, more patience, and less tattoos. I can work on the first of those. So maybe I set my sights a little lower and volunteer to assist the ‘real’ coach. No worries, I can still work with the players to carry a swagger. I’ll even supply some temporary tattoos for the kids (since they are not of age) so we can give them all sleeves. They’ll look like hooligans and we can scare the opposition into pissing themselves.