Semi-typical question asked of me at work:
You: Do you have any rooms available?
Me: No, sir (ma'am), we're sold out tonight.
You: Aww, come on. Don't all hotels always keep one room aside just in case the President needs a room?
Me: (wanting to say) One, no. And two, unless you are the President, wouldn't selling you the room defeat the purpose?
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Robin Crow (and other Rock 'N Roll ruminations)
Working at a record store in 1992 meant listening to Robin Crow for about a month or so over and over again. His promoters were all over retail to play his CD in-store. Either through bribery or other tactics, they ensured that our little corner of record retail played his entire release about 3 or 4 times a day. The shame was that it wasn't that bad of a record. But after a while I would welcome the music of Kenny G or Michael Bolton just to shake things up.
I wonder what Robin Crow is doing now? I think he wanted to be the next Satriani or Malmsteen, but it's likely that he's just selling insurance somewhere like one of the guys from Dramarama.
In fact, it was around the same time that I thought Dramarama was just a step away from making it big time. They had 3 or 4 CDs under their belt, a few hit singles, and a great sound. But somewhere along the way, it just didn't happen. I forgot all about them until I saw their name mentioned as a band featured on VH1's Bands Reunited series. I was all pumped about following their path back toward relevance, but discussion boards and email updates from band members proved that it just wasn't going to happen.
It seems that the big problem was that they had scheduled a big "We're Back Together" show somewhere in L.A. but it had to be cancelled. The reason behind the cancellation was that one of the main guys couldn't make the trip out west because he was working for an insurance company back east and didn't want his boss to give him a hard time about needing time off. His wife and kids couldn't afford for him to take that risk. He went from rock star to this?
Reminds me of when I saw Drivin' N' Cryin' at JackLegs Speakeasy on 2nd Ave. This too was years since I had heard anything from them, and years since I was a regular part of the Nashville nightlife. So it was good to feel young again, rocking out to good music, among a cool, fun crowd of people who were into it just as much as I was. All was going well, the songs felt good, the band was tight, and the vibe was electric. Kevn Kinney, lead singer, was delivering the goods just as he had done ten years earlier when I roadtripped to see them in Knoxville at the Bijou. But then, he turned to the drummer and I saw it. We all saw it. Right in the middle of all that long rock 'n roll hair was the biggest bald spot. Nothing wrong with that I suppose. Rumor has it that I am cultivating my own "no hair allowed" spot, too. It's just that rock 'n roll doesn't easily prepare us for these realities of life. We just take and enjoy what we can.
As for me, I am listening to Drivin' N' Cryin' right now, on my laptop, hours before I go to the job that I don't love. But I go in because of the health insurance, because I have that obligation to those I love, my wife and my kids. I bet all of the guys mentioned above are doing the same. If you can't make a million bucks doing what you love, you gotta do what you gotta do for the people who love you. No shame there.
I wonder what Robin Crow is doing now? I think he wanted to be the next Satriani or Malmsteen, but it's likely that he's just selling insurance somewhere like one of the guys from Dramarama.
In fact, it was around the same time that I thought Dramarama was just a step away from making it big time. They had 3 or 4 CDs under their belt, a few hit singles, and a great sound. But somewhere along the way, it just didn't happen. I forgot all about them until I saw their name mentioned as a band featured on VH1's Bands Reunited series. I was all pumped about following their path back toward relevance, but discussion boards and email updates from band members proved that it just wasn't going to happen.
It seems that the big problem was that they had scheduled a big "We're Back Together" show somewhere in L.A. but it had to be cancelled. The reason behind the cancellation was that one of the main guys couldn't make the trip out west because he was working for an insurance company back east and didn't want his boss to give him a hard time about needing time off. His wife and kids couldn't afford for him to take that risk. He went from rock star to this?
Reminds me of when I saw Drivin' N' Cryin' at JackLegs Speakeasy on 2nd Ave. This too was years since I had heard anything from them, and years since I was a regular part of the Nashville nightlife. So it was good to feel young again, rocking out to good music, among a cool, fun crowd of people who were into it just as much as I was. All was going well, the songs felt good, the band was tight, and the vibe was electric. Kevn Kinney, lead singer, was delivering the goods just as he had done ten years earlier when I roadtripped to see them in Knoxville at the Bijou. But then, he turned to the drummer and I saw it. We all saw it. Right in the middle of all that long rock 'n roll hair was the biggest bald spot. Nothing wrong with that I suppose. Rumor has it that I am cultivating my own "no hair allowed" spot, too. It's just that rock 'n roll doesn't easily prepare us for these realities of life. We just take and enjoy what we can.
As for me, I am listening to Drivin' N' Cryin' right now, on my laptop, hours before I go to the job that I don't love. But I go in because of the health insurance, because I have that obligation to those I love, my wife and my kids. I bet all of the guys mentioned above are doing the same. If you can't make a million bucks doing what you love, you gotta do what you gotta do for the people who love you. No shame there.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
What A Difference A Day Makes
My last post found me in a foul mood. My version of a midlife crisis took a powerful hold of me, but things are better now. It took listening to a lot of Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, and John Prine, but I finally found my peace.
The frustration I shared is really just based in the thought that I am meant for better things than what I am doing. Call it arrested development or a crippled career, but with each punch of the clock I know that I am letting myself down and not pursuing my potential. Not to compare myself to a superhero (although it is fun), but I really identified with Bruce Willis' character in Unbreakable. He played the role of a man destined to rid the world of evil with superhuman strength. The problem was that he had no idea that he had such powers within himself. And so he found himself somewhere in his late 30s, working as a security guard and unhappy and unfulfilled while having no idea why. He was here to be doing greater things but hadn't figured what.
And that's where I am. Listening to Dylan sing "Maggie's Farm," I type this while at my happiest. Music in the background, my fingers to the keys, I call myself a writer and seek to be a person who is of value to many. But for 40+ hours a week, I belong to the greedy and the malcontents. They come to town to open the beers and close the deals. And they emote loudly with vicious disdain while I work to cater to their wants and needs. Business is business, I understand that. But I am looking for the compassion in the world. I can always count on finding it between midnight and 2 a.m. while listening to good, good music.
I thank Dylan and his fellow bringers of good songs for getting me through. I also thank my wife for the hand that she put on my shoulder when I was feeling so low yesterday. She's my "everything's gonna be alright." She's my "so pretty that you're lost in the stars." She gets me through. Now I just have to find the man I'm supposed to be. I bet I'm closer than I think.
The frustration I shared is really just based in the thought that I am meant for better things than what I am doing. Call it arrested development or a crippled career, but with each punch of the clock I know that I am letting myself down and not pursuing my potential. Not to compare myself to a superhero (although it is fun), but I really identified with Bruce Willis' character in Unbreakable. He played the role of a man destined to rid the world of evil with superhuman strength. The problem was that he had no idea that he had such powers within himself. And so he found himself somewhere in his late 30s, working as a security guard and unhappy and unfulfilled while having no idea why. He was here to be doing greater things but hadn't figured what.
And that's where I am. Listening to Dylan sing "Maggie's Farm," I type this while at my happiest. Music in the background, my fingers to the keys, I call myself a writer and seek to be a person who is of value to many. But for 40+ hours a week, I belong to the greedy and the malcontents. They come to town to open the beers and close the deals. And they emote loudly with vicious disdain while I work to cater to their wants and needs. Business is business, I understand that. But I am looking for the compassion in the world. I can always count on finding it between midnight and 2 a.m. while listening to good, good music.
I thank Dylan and his fellow bringers of good songs for getting me through. I also thank my wife for the hand that she put on my shoulder when I was feeling so low yesterday. She's my "everything's gonna be alright." She's my "so pretty that you're lost in the stars." She gets me through. Now I just have to find the man I'm supposed to be. I bet I'm closer than I think.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
It's Not Supposed To Be Easy
But damn. I need a few more waves of pleasantry and soon.
Overwhelmed again. Not even trying to be the perfect dad and husband, but while trying to juggle those familial obligations with the workplace, it's hard to even feel average. The last week or so has seen all at Chez Bez passing around viruses and colds. Lovely wife and I try our best to share the "stay at home with the kids" responsibilities as evenly as possible while trying not to test the patience of our employers too much.
Today, they sent her home because she was so sick. I volunteered to call in from work today and let her sleep, rest, recuperate. So I made the dutiful call to one of my multitude of bosses to gauge his thoughts on that. He was very generous and kind and told me to do what was best for my family and to not feel guilty about it (as I often do). Early in the conversation we had talked about me coming in late but by the end it was my interpretation that I would stay home all day and they would call me if needed. I ended the phone call feeling pretty good about things.
Come 8:30 or so and I see voicemail awaiting my attention on my cell phone. It was as I immediately suspected. My boss shared the first decision from our call with other bosses of mine and they were angry and wondering why I still wasn't in. I hate to admit that I lost my cool a bit in returning that call but this has been a day of exhaustion anyway. Adding to the day now was frustration and good old guilt again. I was a breath away from quitting right on the spot. Good for me that I hung up before I got around to spouting off with words I would have regretted. Still, it could happen soon.
I just feel so pushed and pulled so often. Where are the well paying, low stress jobs for nice guys like me who never went to college? This one is killing me. As is the case for so many workers nowadays, I am where I am because of the health insurance. The family needs that. And they need from me so much more than they receive. Familial obligations make me a less dependable employee and the workplace demands make me less of the dad and husband I want to be.
It gets better, right?
Overwhelmed again. Not even trying to be the perfect dad and husband, but while trying to juggle those familial obligations with the workplace, it's hard to even feel average. The last week or so has seen all at Chez Bez passing around viruses and colds. Lovely wife and I try our best to share the "stay at home with the kids" responsibilities as evenly as possible while trying not to test the patience of our employers too much.
Today, they sent her home because she was so sick. I volunteered to call in from work today and let her sleep, rest, recuperate. So I made the dutiful call to one of my multitude of bosses to gauge his thoughts on that. He was very generous and kind and told me to do what was best for my family and to not feel guilty about it (as I often do). Early in the conversation we had talked about me coming in late but by the end it was my interpretation that I would stay home all day and they would call me if needed. I ended the phone call feeling pretty good about things.
Come 8:30 or so and I see voicemail awaiting my attention on my cell phone. It was as I immediately suspected. My boss shared the first decision from our call with other bosses of mine and they were angry and wondering why I still wasn't in. I hate to admit that I lost my cool a bit in returning that call but this has been a day of exhaustion anyway. Adding to the day now was frustration and good old guilt again. I was a breath away from quitting right on the spot. Good for me that I hung up before I got around to spouting off with words I would have regretted. Still, it could happen soon.
I just feel so pushed and pulled so often. Where are the well paying, low stress jobs for nice guys like me who never went to college? This one is killing me. As is the case for so many workers nowadays, I am where I am because of the health insurance. The family needs that. And they need from me so much more than they receive. Familial obligations make me a less dependable employee and the workplace demands make me less of the dad and husband I want to be.
It gets better, right?
Monday, February 06, 2006
Van Morrison Is Singing "Into The Mystic" To Me...
...because I am sick and good Van Morrison songs always go a long way in making me feel better.
What songs do you turn to when you are not feeling as you should?
What songs do you turn to when you are not feeling as you should?
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Note To Self: Wood Burns
When cooking,
a) if the pot is on the front burner, don't turn on the back burner.
b) if disregarding previous instruction, try not to have wood pot handle extended over back burner.
That's all.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Rain And Monsters
The other night it rained
like a motherfucker.
And my son discovered
fear.
Never before had he
exhibited this emotion.
Not of imaginary
sources.
But here it was.
Crying for protection,
and me arriving for his
comfort.
And he settles down enough
to tell me why he's crying.
Scary monsters, scary
dinosaurs.
And thunder.
Me, answering his call,
I comfort him
and talk to him until
he feels better and drifts off
to sleep.
This morning I begin
another day. Wondering
what awaits me and I miss
only fearing scary monsters.
like a motherfucker.
And my son discovered
fear.
Never before had he
exhibited this emotion.
Not of imaginary
sources.
But here it was.
Crying for protection,
and me arriving for his
comfort.
And he settles down enough
to tell me why he's crying.
Scary monsters, scary
dinosaurs.
And thunder.
Me, answering his call,
I comfort him
and talk to him until
he feels better and drifts off
to sleep.
This morning I begin
another day. Wondering
what awaits me and I miss
only fearing scary monsters.
Hey Right. Your Guilty Conscience Is Deafening.
from Reuters:
Lawmaker's wife told to leave during Bush speech
Thu Feb 2, 2006 10:43 AM ET
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The wife of a senior House of Representatives Republican was told to leave the House chamber during President George W. Bush's State of the Union speech for for wearing a shirt bearing words of support for U.S. troops.
"Shame, shame," Rep. Bill Young of Florida said on the House floor on Wednesday, condemning the treatment of his wife Beverly by the U.S. Capitol Police.
"She was ordered to leave the gallery, because she was doing ... what the president said we should all do," Young said. "She had on this shirt. A very conservative shirt, long sleeves, high neck, but it says support our troops."
Also on Tuesday night anti-Iraq war activist Cindy Sheehan was arrested in one of the House galleries before the speech after she refused to cover up an anti-war slogan on her shirt.
Young, who chairs the House Appropriations defense subcommittee, said his wife "supports our troops on every day, every hour," visiting wounded soldiers at military hospitals and helping their families.
Young said a guard at the House chamber called her "a demonstrator and a protester."
Her shirt said "Support the Troops Defending Our Freedom."
A U.S. Capitol Police spokeswoman said the matter was still under investigation, and declined to comment further.
Lawmaker's wife told to leave during Bush speech
Thu Feb 2, 2006 10:43 AM ET
WASHINGTON (Reuters) - The wife of a senior House of Representatives Republican was told to leave the House chamber during President George W. Bush's State of the Union speech for for wearing a shirt bearing words of support for U.S. troops.
"Shame, shame," Rep. Bill Young of Florida said on the House floor on Wednesday, condemning the treatment of his wife Beverly by the U.S. Capitol Police.
"She was ordered to leave the gallery, because she was doing ... what the president said we should all do," Young said. "She had on this shirt. A very conservative shirt, long sleeves, high neck, but it says support our troops."
Also on Tuesday night anti-Iraq war activist Cindy Sheehan was arrested in one of the House galleries before the speech after she refused to cover up an anti-war slogan on her shirt.
Young, who chairs the House Appropriations defense subcommittee, said his wife "supports our troops on every day, every hour," visiting wounded soldiers at military hospitals and helping their families.
Young said a guard at the House chamber called her "a demonstrator and a protester."
Her shirt said "Support the Troops Defending Our Freedom."
A U.S. Capitol Police spokeswoman said the matter was still under investigation, and declined to comment further.
Have Bus, Will Travel. Just Not There.
A few days ago at work, I was busy driving the airport shuttle. We had a lot of hotel guests who were meeting at our full service hotel but staying at one of our less expensive brands in the area. And so I knew that I was in for a day of shuttling people around between the two hotels.
Two good ol' boys ambled up to my bus as I was about to leave my hotel for the airport. Wearing ballcaps, comfortable bellies, and shit-eating grins, they clearly had been enjoying their early afternoon with more than a few nice beers. I was in a bit of a bad mood, but they were smiling so big that they won me over with their happiness. They looked like my town's physical equivalent of Buddhas. I assumed that they were going to our sister hotel but politely asked them where they were going anyway.
"Hello, Chief. Can you take us to the Purple Onion?" OK, these funny rednecks had me at hello. The Purple Onion is a local adult bookstore, not anywhere near the area of my route though. I played along with their joke.
"Sure thing. I was going there anyway!," I smiled.
"How about that? This is our lucky day," they answered as they boarded.
Now, as I pulled away from the main drive on the way to their hotel, I asked again just to make sure, "So, you're going to "Hotel B" right?"
A small but telling pause followed.
"Um, you mean you can't really take us to The Purple Onion?"
"Uh, sorry. I thought you guys were joking. I can only go to the airport and a couple of hotels."
"Hell, we're sorry man. No, we're staying at this hotel. We just wanted to get out for a bit. That's cool though. Just let us off and we'll catch a cab."
"OK, sorry again guys. Be cool."
And off they went. Two real men, going to the adult book store together on a Friday afternoon. The Brokeback Mountain reference was not lost on me.
They sure improved my mood for the day. I loved those guys.
Two good ol' boys ambled up to my bus as I was about to leave my hotel for the airport. Wearing ballcaps, comfortable bellies, and shit-eating grins, they clearly had been enjoying their early afternoon with more than a few nice beers. I was in a bit of a bad mood, but they were smiling so big that they won me over with their happiness. They looked like my town's physical equivalent of Buddhas. I assumed that they were going to our sister hotel but politely asked them where they were going anyway.
"Hello, Chief. Can you take us to the Purple Onion?" OK, these funny rednecks had me at hello. The Purple Onion is a local adult bookstore, not anywhere near the area of my route though. I played along with their joke.
"Sure thing. I was going there anyway!," I smiled.
"How about that? This is our lucky day," they answered as they boarded.
Now, as I pulled away from the main drive on the way to their hotel, I asked again just to make sure, "So, you're going to "Hotel B" right?"
A small but telling pause followed.
"Um, you mean you can't really take us to The Purple Onion?"
"Uh, sorry. I thought you guys were joking. I can only go to the airport and a couple of hotels."
"Hell, we're sorry man. No, we're staying at this hotel. We just wanted to get out for a bit. That's cool though. Just let us off and we'll catch a cab."
"OK, sorry again guys. Be cool."
And off they went. Two real men, going to the adult book store together on a Friday afternoon. The Brokeback Mountain reference was not lost on me.
They sure improved my mood for the day. I loved those guys.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Go Ahead, Ask Me The Words
For two days straight, I stayed home with the young victim of a little thing called pink eye. I had fun recalling Reservoir Dogs and referring to my sweet cherub as Mr. Pink. Sadly, he didn't know the script and wouldn't repeat back to me Steve Buscemi's famous lines from that cinematic classic. Albeit, like the movie's Mr. Pink, he also will not tip at restaurants.
Anyway, from these past days of super parenting, I now can recite entire passages from Dora The Explorer episodes and the theme song is deeply embedded in my rich and wondrous mind. For those of you familiar with Dora (you poor things), you will appreciate that I went about my worknight last night as if I was in one of those animated adventures.
Thinking to myself as I worked (because doing this outloud would be entirely unacceptable), every bellrun and errand and airport shuttle trip was handled just as Dora would have handled it. "We've got to get to room #1506! How do we get there?" "We've gotta go to the red carpet, past the bar, and up the elevator!" And then I put this to music and it plays over and over.
Or my personal favorite from last night, (singing) "Where are we going? (clap clap clap) "To make some money!" "Where are we going?" (clap clap clap) "To make some money!" "Where are we going?" (clap clap clap) "To make some money!" Oy vey. I used to be cool.
With Dora and her infectious theme song refusing to release me from this infantalizing grasp, I felt comfort in knowing that I would soon be clocking out and driving home in my car. I keep my car stereo there and also a nice collection of CDs by cool people. Chris Whitley, Bruce Springsteen, Nina Simone, and Nine Inch Nails were all waiting for me. "Pick me! Pick me!," they all say. I can't go wrong with any of them. Life is good.
And with the turn of my key, I hear a weird pop come from the speakers. And then the light that illuminates from the stereo itself went black. Consensus? A wire went bad. There will be no music accompanying me on my drive home. Well, no music from the stereo anyway. The music in my head played just fine. All the way home.
Anyway, from these past days of super parenting, I now can recite entire passages from Dora The Explorer episodes and the theme song is deeply embedded in my rich and wondrous mind. For those of you familiar with Dora (you poor things), you will appreciate that I went about my worknight last night as if I was in one of those animated adventures.
Thinking to myself as I worked (because doing this outloud would be entirely unacceptable), every bellrun and errand and airport shuttle trip was handled just as Dora would have handled it. "We've got to get to room #1506! How do we get there?" "We've gotta go to the red carpet, past the bar, and up the elevator!" And then I put this to music and it plays over and over.
Or my personal favorite from last night, (singing) "Where are we going? (clap clap clap) "To make some money!" "Where are we going?" (clap clap clap) "To make some money!" "Where are we going?" (clap clap clap) "To make some money!" Oy vey. I used to be cool.
With Dora and her infectious theme song refusing to release me from this infantalizing grasp, I felt comfort in knowing that I would soon be clocking out and driving home in my car. I keep my car stereo there and also a nice collection of CDs by cool people. Chris Whitley, Bruce Springsteen, Nina Simone, and Nine Inch Nails were all waiting for me. "Pick me! Pick me!," they all say. I can't go wrong with any of them. Life is good.
And with the turn of my key, I hear a weird pop come from the speakers. And then the light that illuminates from the stereo itself went black. Consensus? A wire went bad. There will be no music accompanying me on my drive home. Well, no music from the stereo anyway. The music in my head played just fine. All the way home.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
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