tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15845814410081054242024-03-22T00:32:15.705-04:0029 to LifeThe last year of my 20's came and went.
I keep getting older and hopefully better. I don't edit the old stuff so I can see how I've grown and changed and developed. Revisionist history doesn't help anyone. We all used to do and say dumb things we didn't understand. What matters is we learn new things and try to understand why we were wrong and sincerely make the world we touch better for our lessons and mistakes.
So I was 29, now I write a blog here and there.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-78029051017381572212020-03-30T17:04:00.001-04:002020-04-01T09:41:35.508-04:00Coming Together In Quarantine - Or - We're Going To Be Quaran-fine<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">This whole new world is
fascinating to me. It's also scary and stressful and anxiety is running right
on that dangerous line, but man it has been such a wonder to listen and learn.
I've also done all of this connecting without Facebook or Instagram, as they
were really depressing me for a little while. <br /><br />I have wanted to write something since all of this started, mostly to process myself, but also to reach out and connect with whoever might want to read my ramblings... so with my mom, I guess.<br /><br />So far two things from this whole new world have really
struck me as wonderful - <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">1 - Nobody knows what "best" means right now, so doing our best just has to work. </span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Besides certain leaders who
insist on pretending they know what's going on, even our best medical
professionals are saying, look, we're learning as we go, all we can do is our
best, so hold on and help each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">This goes with folks who are
suddenly full time employees and home-school teachers. This is a restaurant owner
who is still doing take out and delivery, not to make a few extra bucks, but to
keep some people employed. This is a distillery, two weeks ahead of a national
launch, changing their entire model to make hand sanitizer. This is my brother in law working 13 hour days as a Nurse manager, just to check in on both of his staff's and keep things going as smooth as possible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">There's a lot of freedom in knowing
we don't have to be perfect. (This might be a "no shit" moment for
some of you, but it is really hard for some of us, even if our perfect just
looks pretty okay... like my former covid-beard). The hardest part is
accepting where we are and rolling with the new punches. Once we get there
though, the amount of grace, patience and acceptance just skyrockets. These
are, hopefully obviously, such better characteristics to lead with than
perfection, pressure and stress.<br />
<br />
I generally try not to lead from these characteristics, I think most of us try,
but it's really easy to see when we're not at our best when we are sitting in
these things alone. That's where the self-assurance and grace comes in. I haven't been very good at this lately and I've let the anxiety win too many times, but that's why I've been writing this for the better part of a week... I'm just trying my best. We
aren't in ideal situations, so it should be easier to forgive ourselves for not
being ideal, but we're a species of people who aren't classically very good at
forgiving ourselves or other, which is why point 2 is so amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">2 - People who can't come
near each other are getting closer!</span></b><span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Every day I've been trying to
reach out to at least one new person. Not a stranger or anything, though that
sounds fun, but someone I haven't chatted with in a while or someone I might
normally see casually, but won't have that opportunity. People are singing
songs together on balconies. Virtual happy hours are all the rage. Technology is bringing people together who might not have considered using technology a month ago.<br />
<br />
There are really positive and creative things happening to help support people
all around. From fund raisers and benefits for those out of work to musicians
playing daily or weekly concerts on their websites or YouTube. Ben Gibbard, from
Death Cab for Cutie, has done a daily concert for the last two weeks and it's
fantastic (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2TiCThAAcNM" target="_blank">here's
my favorite</a>). Tens of thousands of people are watching and he's using the
platform to share news and benefit information.<br />
<br />
This morning I learned that John Krasinski started a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F5pgG1M_h_U&feature=emb_title" target="_blank">YouTube news show called Some Good News</a>, where he's only
sharing the positive things happening in the world. Because yes, we're
surrounded by a whole lot of scary, frustrating and unsettling shit, but we're
also all in this shit together. I have no idea how he didn't full on cry during half of it... the whole show makes the air so dusty and your eyes so itchy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;">Life is never easy, but so many of us are realizing how lucky we
are or how much worse it could be. I'm one of the lucky ones. Through and
through. I have lost income. I have anxiety. I have family I'm scared for. I
have colleagues who are struggling to balance. I have family downstairs while I
work all day transitioning between doing their best and trying not to murder
each other, because it's hard.<br />
<br />
This is all hard and we're still the lucky ones. We have technology that brings
us together. We have stores that are still open. Maybe you don't currently have
a job. Maybe you're currently struggling, but if you are able to read this and
think about it, you're luckier than most and throughout it all I hope you know you have me.<br />
<br />
I don't know how many people are even still reading right now, but if you are
I'd love to hear from you. I'd love to hear your struggles and the good things that are happening. I'd love to do a video
chat or a call or text check in. I have food to share. I have heart to give and
to be honest, it's one of the only thing that's making me feel better throughout all of this.<br />
<br />
I've been struggling with the unknown, like most of us, but I know the things
that have made me feel better are these connections. Little things go so far. I
would love for people to share the good stories they have heard, either email
them to me (chewthomasr@gmail.com) comment here, or send me a text or call me
and tell me about it. If you are still on Facebook or Instagram or, I don't
know, Tik Tok (I hear that's a thing I don't understand), put something on your
page that is wholly good and positive. Shoot someone a message you haven't
talked to in forever. It doesn't need to be me, but reach out!<br />
<br />
Let's be intentional and use this time apart to come closer together. Let's
share the good stories and support our most at need any way we can, even if
that's a kind word or a hello. It could be a random $10 Venmo to a friend who
is out of work or a nurse who is working 60+ hours each week. Thank you for
reading this and being a part of my life. I can't wait to see you and give you
a hug, but until then, I can't wait to see your name on a screen and say
hello. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-37915990763763501252019-03-01T10:40:00.001-05:002019-03-01T10:40:37.399-05:00Crowd Sourcing Inspiration<h3>
Not surprisingly to me...<br />I'm not great at doing the things for me.</h3>
<br />
Self care is not something I excel in. Now I'm not a slovenly disaster or anything like that. This isn't a woe is me post. I don't take terrible care of myself. For the most part I really enjoy the vast majority of what I do. I love my job. I love my other job. I love walking my dog as soon as we're actually walking, I really hate getting ready to walk my dog. I love being with my family and getting things done around the house. I love listening to books and podcasts while I drive. That's the majority of my life.<br />
<br />
I have a pretty okay attitude about life and what it means to live happily. I make my own happiness and I communicate when I think I need to... sometimes.<br />
<br />
All this is to show that I rarely say hey, I'm going to do X because I really want to and it'll make me feel good.<br />
<br />
I always have an excuse, verbal or mental. I do love my work, but it does take my away from my family for the majority of their days. Jenna is doing all the things to keep them moving and on track and most of the "stuff" around the house. So when I get home from work I feel an unspoken pressure to help out and spend time with the kids. These are two things I love doing, I'm a helper by nature and my kids are amazing, so being around them isn't a task. I genuinely feel bad if I don't do the dishes or if the kids ask me to play and I say no.<br />
<br />
These are things my therapist* and I have delved into more times than we probably haven't. I'm a people pleaser with unsubstantiated guilt issues. I know I have the ability to make people happy and positively influence them, so I feel an unrealistic need to do so. I'm working on it.<br />
<br />
Lost in all of this is the self-care I started talking about before I went on one of my typical rants. I'm not the best friend in the world. I would do anything for anyone (the whole people pleasing thing), but I am not a present friend. I don't make time for interacting with my friends. I'm super happy when it happens, but I don't do it very often.<br />
<br />
This is something I value. This is something I feel. This is something I miss... yet this is something I don't actively do. I'm working on it.<br />
<br />
Writing is another outlet I full on heart-eyes love😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍. I think of things to write maybe 20 times a day. Movie plots. Characters. Stories for my kids. General thoughts and philosophies. Words that sound cool. But I rarely ever write them down. I don't put time aside to write at all, not even just highlighting the random thoughts that pop into my head. I have been setting daily intentions and weekly goals, which has me holding a pen and thinking, which feels pretty good, but it's not enough.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, as I'm reading <i>Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance</i> with my ears, for the first time, it had me thinking of the act of writing and reflection. Even with that, I really couldn't think of what to write about or how to write anything down. So, like any good 36 year old (I still forget I'm 36 sometimes, strange) I asked social media to give me some hints.<br />
<br />
Now, through this... whatever this is... I have decided to write something based on every suggestion that was given to me. Here they are, slightly edited for the sake of clarity and ease with brief commentary:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><i>Something Magical that happened that day!</i> : Probably makes me the most nervous</li>
<li><strike>Gratitude</strike> : One of my daily routines I'm poorly establishing is to think of 3 things/people I'm thankful for and tell them or write them down.</li>
<li><i>Simple household, non-mechanical tools</i>: This is the perfect suggestion from one of the most magnificent people I know.</li>
<li><i>The AIDS epidemic of the 70's and 80's</i>: Whoa... okay, that'll be "fun"</li>
<li><i>Kids Adventures - Stories for your kids</i>: I tell my kids stories almost every night. For probably 2 years I told Mabel a different story every night about either a superhero (she knows a lot about superheroes) or a street sweeper named Gary we made up. Gary was the best. I wish, so badly, that I would have written all of those down.</li>
<li><i>One Strange Rock Episode 1</i>: I don't even know what this is, but I'm going to assume it's a television show about a zany family who lives at 1 Strange Rock Boulevard!</li>
<li><i>Something fictional, like the sun</i> : This one has me thinking oh so much, way too much, I'm very excited. </li>
</ul>
<br />
I'm going to do my best over the next however long... I know goals should be timely, but I'm really bad at setting goals, it's another thing I've discussed in therapy. I'm a highly effective non-ambitious person who accomplishes massive tasks with very little purposeful planning. I'm weird, dudes, I know this.<br />
<br />
But I'm going to write something. Maybe it'll be a reflection like this. Maybe it'll be a poem. Maybe it'll be a short story. Maybe it'll just be a collection of Memes because other people are funnier than I am and memes make us happier... probably dumber... but also happier.<br />
<br />
You can see that gratitude is crossed off... as I close out this random post I'll bring it all back together. I am so incredibly thankful for the experiences I've had that have brought me the life I live. I am surrounded by grace and privilege. I work extremely hard for my luck, but it is not lost on me that I have also been inspired and supported by the world around me. I have been writing this for 25 minutes and my fingers are just flying. My brain is clear. My heart is beating. I was randomly smiling a few minutes ago when I wrote the list of topics. I'm so grateful for the people in my life to have responded to a random-ass Instagram story asking for inspiration.<br />
<br />
It's here and it's real and it's giving me life and energy. If you are interested, but don't see results, call me out. Do it nicely, I'm very sensitive, but call me out on my shit. I welcome it.<br />
<br />
Thank you John. J Instagram. Thank you for inventing Instagram and naming it after yourself. Thank you for working with Sally Google and her partner Mary Lou Blogger, who made this medium possible. You're the real heroes in this story.<br />
<br />
<h3>
* An Aside Regarding Therapy and Writing </h3>
<br />
I don't see any purpose in being untruthful when I'm writing or reflecting about my life in a venue where other people might interact. I write these things for me and sometimes people read them and that's nice too. I've mentioned therapy in conversation before and people have looked at me strange, like it's a dirty word or a secret I should be keeping to myself.<br />
<br />
This is my truth and I'm not worried about people who either don't understand it or believe the negative stigma they might have learned growing up. To each their own. This is my life to live and I'm going to make it as awesome as possible. I think you should too. Being self-reflective is nice, but it's also transformative. We all know people who spend all their time complaining about people or the world around them without taking any stock of how they can change it. It's hard, we do not live in a forgiving world, so we need to learn to forgive ourselves and move on.<br />
<br />
I see a therapist every few weeks because talking to someone completely objective about the 248,009 things going on in my life helps me understand that life and understand how my weird brain interacts with the world around me. It's amazing and I'm a genuinely better father, husband, colleague, friend and person with therapy in my life. Check it out, I'll share my counselors information with anyone who wants it, she's fantastic.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-64877042862771949222017-08-16T01:14:00.003-04:002017-11-09T14:06:56.906-05:00It's been a whileWhen I was younger, I used to write poems.<br />
They were not good.<br />
They were stuffed with youthful agony and strife.<br />
I was so emo. I listened to a lot of Dashboard and even more Bright Eyes.<br />
At first I was ashamed of writing them. I used to feel ashamed about a lot of things I shouldn't have. I used to not feel shame about a lot of things I should have.<br />
Growing up is funny. I'm one of the lucky ones for a thousand reasons...<br />
I hear people say my life is perfect and it brings me shame.<br />
I have strained relationships others take for granted.<br />
I work... and then I work... and then I work for what I have.<br />
I look a certain way, both my youthful visage and my general countenance and people make assumptions.<br />
I have it pretty good and I still question every aspect of it.<br />
I question... what if I didn't have my parents? What if I never met Father Dan? What if I never drank a drink? What if I actually said the things I wanted to say when I was growing up? What if I grew up somewhere else.<br />
<br />
I ask because I care.<br />
I care because I see<br />
I see fear and hate<br />
I see how easily they avoid me.<br />
<br />
We don't ask because we're scared<br />
We're scared of our shame<br />
We fear and we hate<br />
We're emotionally lame<br />
<br />
Nobody teaches how<br />
Nobody teaches why<br />
Until it's too real<br />
Until we accept the lie<br />
<br />
We're not special<br />
Our lives are not exempt<br />
Embrace this fear<br />
Fight the hate and lament<br />
<br />
Be scared<br />
Be sad<br />
Be better<br />
Be mad<br />
.<br />
Be lucky<br />
Be crude<br />
Be more<br />
Be youThomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-44308822646896276522017-05-25T12:12:00.000-04:002017-05-25T12:13:00.474-04:00Rainbow Flags and Neil GaimanI've been listening to a lot of audio books on my commute to and from work.<br />
<br />
It's pretty perfect. About 35 minutes each way and I feel like a literary genius. I've been at my newish job for 10 months know and I wish I would have tracked everything I have listened to. (Author's Note: I just decided to do this).<br />
<br />
There have been three highlights to this process for 3 very different reasons.<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li><b>Brene Brown</b>. I am in charge of my college's summer reading program and people are constantly suggesting books to me. I have actually listened to 9 or 10 of these things and it is stuff I never would have made time for before. So it's making me better at my job.|</li>
<li><b>Elmore Leonard.</b> Good god that guy could write a story. If you've only seen <i>Justified </i>or <i>Get Shorty</i> or Out of Sight, dive into any of his books. There is a formula and they shouldn't work, but they work so well and it will make you want to be so much cooler than you are. It has made me want to be so much cooler than I am at least. <br /><br />Stories are good. Stories are important.<br /></li>
<li><b>Neil Gaiman's voice</b>. Whoa baby. I had read <i>American Gods</i> a couple of times a few years <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4tRevBEl1rmKh5hDtfANTQ7oqNU9nNntVOR0vssSNUkCKi2LfN7UpD06FSdhscV6XWKvHMM4Z2X2OzG10Yh0AWt4tPIXJTxrOCuUFa0UiqCm9YcNmFycPr9HpshNJ9sOeaq5jU2pNl4y/s1600/TempleOfArt_NeilGaiman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1356" data-original-width="1015" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO4tRevBEl1rmKh5hDtfANTQ7oqNU9nNntVOR0vssSNUkCKi2LfN7UpD06FSdhscV6XWKvHMM4Z2X2OzG10Yh0AWt4tPIXJTxrOCuUFa0UiqCm9YcNmFycPr9HpshNJ9sOeaq5jU2pNl4y/s200/TempleOfArt_NeilGaiman.jpg" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Neil Gaiman's face</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
ago. Actually read it with my eyes, rather than my ears. It's fantastic. Everything about it. At this point I think I've read 7 of his books or collections, or he's read them to me to be more specific. Let me tell you, the four people reading this, god damn that man has the greatest fictional reading voice in the whole world. (President Obama wins for non-fiction... this is not a debate, this is truth. Nick Offerman is a close runner up in the fiction category).<br /><br />Besides his voice is his message. He writes for anyone and everyone and he talks about writing and reading a lot. I believe one of the reasons he has been so successful and stuck with so many people is because of his lack of assumptions and his honesty. Gaiman says things like, "No one has ever farmed on Pluto before. Well, maybe they have, but I haven't heard of it happening." That is probably a terrible example, but it shows my point. He doesn't make the assumption of knowing or understanding everything. He is constantly learning and simply living in the world around him, taking it in and hoping for the best from everyone without establishing expectations.</li>
</ol>
<div>
So this is my jump off to talking about my neighborhood a little bit. I've been thinking about expectations, how we create our own narratives in every situation, both good and bad (mostly bad), and general understanding. It's easy to find the negative in basically anything. It's easy, but it's also really boring. This is not a high horse conversation, I can get as negative as the next guy and I write my own internal narratives that convince me I'm ruining something, or someone hates me or everything is all my fault. Sometimes it's true, most of the time it isn't. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Challenging these narratives, like Neil Gaiman and his angel voice naturally does, isn't necessarily <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7KEfdj5DPXz-6K1nATgZPqoN9iwx52RaHQh9r06UyVHBNzTmL9eIeDtKSRN8WLmDRCSBbBiW2Sjb0KT3uo4Vva8way_AlZiKUP-KblYG7U5jt-LyynEkb4K5mtuH6D6W4VsFonY-bLPUT/s1600/Rising-Strong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1084" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7KEfdj5DPXz-6K1nATgZPqoN9iwx52RaHQh9r06UyVHBNzTmL9eIeDtKSRN8WLmDRCSBbBiW2Sjb0KT3uo4Vva8way_AlZiKUP-KblYG7U5jt-LyynEkb4K5mtuH6D6W4VsFonY-bLPUT/s200/Rising-Strong.jpg" width="147" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Stupid Good</td></tr>
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difficult, but it doesn't come naturally to many people. One of the books I just finished reading with my ears is "Rising Strong" by Brene Brown (It's stupid good). Many of these thoughts have come directly as a response to that book, even thought I'm not putting it at the forefront of this post. I'm still processing a lot of it. Processing is good.</div>
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The main lesson to steal from Brown and that book for the sake of this one sided conversation is that everything changes when we assume everyone is doing their best. </div>
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This is hard. It is important.</div>
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Important things are hard.</div>
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<b><u>Let's bring this all back together</u></b>: </div>
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I was walking back from the playground with my kids last night. I was pushing the double stroller and we were listening to "Say It Aint So" by Weezer blaring out of my phone. On each side of the street their was a rainbow pride flag hung. This is a big thing on my block. In the last year at least 1 has been burnt and 4 others have been stolen or ripped down in the night. There was a rally about it that was attended by hundreds of people on very short notice.</div>
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I started counting as I walked and listened to my kids singing along to some of my favorite songs that I've forced into their brains. In the two blocks on the way back to our house there were 9 rainbow flags, 7 American flags and 1 Blue Lives Matter flag. </div>
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Listening to other people's thought and ideas, fiction, research, interviews, essays, whatever it is, forces your brain to listen to another perspective. We're constantly writing our understanding of our personal stories, even if they never leave our frontal lobes (I know nothing about science, so I don't know if the frontal lobe is where this level of thinking actually takes place). We can look at a series of anti-LGBTQ hate crimes as a tragedy and snap shot of the shit world we live in. Or we can look at the rally and the fact that at least 5 of the pride flags hug on my block are hung by families of allies who are raising their children to believe in love above all else. </div>
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Responding to hate with love. Just like Gaiman responds to the unknown with the possibility over certainty. Just like Leonard let's you assume the best in criminals while they're committing a crime. Just like taking the time to listen to someone read to you allows you to question your world with wonder rather than scrutiny.</div>
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When I see those flags I think of rewriting my narrative. Choosing language that helps and encourages others to rewrite theirs. Finding the positive and focusing on that while I move forward. Assume the best in people, even the shitbags, and consider the possibility that they are doing their best, even if their best isn't all that great. I might not have been able to do that so easily or actively without the sweet sweet voice of Neil Gaiman.</div>
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Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-8259039986741085782016-07-08T09:43:00.001-04:002016-07-08T10:30:11.252-04:00Hopeful Fear In America<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="2k7d2" data-offset-key="9jnpk-0-0" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
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<span data-offset-key="9jnpk-0-0"><span data-text="true">I can typically walk down the street with my kids without being scared. </span></span></div>
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<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="2k7d2" data-offset-key="4ln44-0-0" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="4ln44-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="4ln44-0-0"><span data-text="true">I don't need to warn my kids about how to act around anyone besides strangers. </span></span></div>
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<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="2k7d2" data-offset-key="7es9v-0-0" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="7es9v-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="7es9v-0-0"><span data-text="true">I am privileged and I'm still scared. </span></span></div>
</div>
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<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3fknd-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="3fknd-0-0"><span data-text="true">Larry Whitmore said, while talking about the absolutely unnecessary death of </span></span><span class="_5u8n" data-offset-key="3fknd-1-0" spellcheck="false" style="background-color: rgba(88, 144, 255, 0.14902); border-bottom-color: rgba(88, 144, 255, 0.298039); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px;"><span data-offset-key="3fknd-1-0"><span data-text="true">#AltonSterling</span></span></span><span data-offset-key="3fknd-2-0"><span data-text="true">, "Thank God for cellphones." Some are still scared and making excuses, but the world can finally see systematic oppression, even if they choose to deny it. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="3fknd-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="3fknd-2-0"><span data-text="true">I have a lot of great friends who are great people trying to understand this situation and offering support, condolences, thoughts, prayers or even evidence to make sure more people open their eyes. None of us want to, but we should all be scared. </span></span></div>
</div>
<div class="" data-block="true" data-editor="2k7d2" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 18px; orphans: auto; text-align: start; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: pre-wrap; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">This fear is how almost half of Americans feel every day. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">This fear has a moronic bigot on the ballot to become President of the United States of America. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">This fear has parents warning their children about how to act around police officers. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">This fear has police officers, good and bad, jumpy, protective and insecure. And let's not pretend there aren't bad police officers. When a doctor messes up a surgery and kills someone due to negligence, they are removed from the field and held accountable for their actions. They aren't necessarily bad people, but they made a grave mistake and need to be held accountable for it. Something we rarely question. But when a police officer murders a person on camera, most of our media and half of Facebook blame the person for a criminal background or for not complying. The Bundy militia had loaded guns pointed at officers during their standoff and they had weeks of patience and discussion. But when a black teenager is playing in a park and a bad cop suspects he might have a gun, he's acquitted after shooting him dead. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">#PhilandoCastile was murdered by a bad cop. Maybe he was a good person who made a mistake, but that makes him unfit to wear a badge that is sworn to serve and protect. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Good cops know this. Good people know this. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">If there wasn't such an outcry to protect these bad cops and make fucking ridiculous excuses for them maybe there wouldn't be such a growing divide. Their body cameras didn't both accidentally fall off right before they shot who was pinned on the ground four times, that's an obvious lie, stop lying. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Stop lying.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Own your privilege if you're lucky enough to have it and support those around you. I can't explain it as <a href="http://fusion.net/story/170591/the-next-time-someone-says-all-lives-matter-show-them-these-5-paragraphs/?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=socialshare&utm_content=theme_bottom_mobile" target="_blank">well as this guy (please read this if you haven't already)</a> but I'll paraphrase his sentiment uncouthly:</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">No shit all lives matter. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">If you feel disregarded by the phrase Black Lives Matter, then you have probably never had to live in fear of your society. I bet that Stanford swimmer rapist asshole thinks All Lives Matter. Black Lives also matter. We should be angry and scared for the black community. We should try to understand how they are oppressed and vilified and how they are American citizens who just want to live in peace and raise their families. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">We aren't all the same. Some of us want to be, but we're not. Personally, I don't want to be all the same. I wish we our system treated people the same and offered the same protection and opportunities, but that doesn't mean the same things as "we're all humans, we're all the same." We are all humans, but we all have a history, different families, different levels of education, different skin colors, different friend groups. It would be great if we could celebrate these differences, but we don't really. We typically hide behind them.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Things that are different are scary. Fear isolates.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">I'm a middle class educated white guy and I'm scared for the world my kids are going to grow up in. I'm scared because I want them to have the opportunity to play with and learn from people who don't look like us and who weren't raised by us. I want them to give back to their community and spread love through their smiles and interactions.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true"> Before I get what I want I have to explain why we're different and why we're lucky and why that's so fucked up.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Between the time I started writing this and finished five cops were murdered at a peaceful rally in Dallas. Random cops. Probably good cops. I am already sick at the thought of the blame game and lack of accountability. Their lives were senselessly taken, just like the lives of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and so many others. The former were killed because they were police officers. The latter were killed because they were black men in America. </span></span></div>
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</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
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Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. - <i>A really smart guy you've probably heard of and quote once a year on Facebook.</i></div>
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</blockquote>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">I always try to leave something hopeful in my writing because I'm a generally hopeful person who wants to live a positive life and leave a legacy of love. The only thing I am hopeful for is that more and more people will start to get it. Nobody questions that Blue Lives Matter or that All Lives Matter, so why do we question that Black Lives Matter? That's not a segregationist statement, it is unifying. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">A lot of people are scared of a revolution of some sort, or they don't think it's possible. I think it's necessary. I'm not talking about battles in the streets, but you know damn well those are coming just like in Ferguson, Missouri. I'm talking about neighborhoods, communities, towns, standing together to make changes that make lives better for everyone. Supporting each other by electing officials who care about people more than money. Looking at the broken systems like prisons, elections, drugs, justice and calling for change because it's the right thing to do. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Morally. Economically. Socially. Patriotically, the right thing to do. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">You can be angry and scared and you should be. But look outwardly. Be angry for the victims. Be scared for black men and women and police officers. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">But be hopeful. Be supportive. Become educated and demand change. </span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Open your eyes.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Stop lying.</span></span></div>
<div class="_1mf _1mj" data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0" style="direction: ltr; position: relative; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;">
<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true">Light and Love.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="1qumn-0-0"><span data-text="true"></span></span></div>
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Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-39120994827935711232015-12-07T11:13:00.000-05:002015-12-10T22:01:59.176-05:00Good GriefYesterday I had a rough morning. A rough morning for me after a rough week for more people than I can list. I don't know why I woke up sad and angry, but I did and my pissyness effected Jenna and needless to say Mabel didn't have the best morning either.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9AQg4E1KK_CKvofbv58bclE0u7s6-4nqIILrk3lV3qIP8OaU2bCCTqRlQfuod9d9w6nSxV0EvYDjC5_k4H7PK3NqDIZpR07eGnswk4Z_O0TX2rLT7LAAYuAojRR3rkiLKxGFWyEf1K6LJ/s1600/12308730_10153245243860737_6210225168260826900_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9AQg4E1KK_CKvofbv58bclE0u7s6-4nqIILrk3lV3qIP8OaU2bCCTqRlQfuod9d9w6nSxV0EvYDjC5_k4H7PK3NqDIZpR07eGnswk4Z_O0TX2rLT7LAAYuAojRR3rkiLKxGFWyEf1K6LJ/s320/12308730_10153245243860737_6210225168260826900_n.jpg" width="274" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stole this from Kris Troyer. <br />
If you see this, let me know if you're mad.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Grief is a funny thing. Last Saturday one of my buddies took his own life. We weren't close, but we were friends. I have hugged him and listened to his personal struggles, but I have also seen him hug and make dozens of lives better for having him in it. I was sad. I was sad to think of his loneliness and pain, I was sad for my friends who loved him and lost him. I was sad for his girlfriend and his family. I was mad too. They often come hand in hand, but in this case I thought of how much pain his pain had caused and will continue to cause those who loved and tried to help him.<br />
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Forever. They will be in pain forever. That is sad and that makes me mad, but that is part of life and that's when the best of people also emerges. My friends who knew and loved Adam even more than I did stepped up. They rallied around each other in person and through social media to let the world know how much they loved Adam, how much Adam loved them and how much they loved each other.<br />
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Balancing the pain, sadness, anger and love isn't easy, but once it starts sinking in and the warmth replaced the emptiness, acceptance starts and you start to appreciate the best of the individual you lost and those who are still with us... at least I did. I know, all too well, that there is not an assembly line version of grief.<br />
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Especially when it comes back into town so quickly.<br />
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Now, I have a large family. I've been going to funerals and wakes for a very long time. At points in my life it was hard for me to understand folks my age coping with death for the first time. I'd seen it and been a part of it since I was very young. Each death taught me something, but overall I grew to appreciate that death is part of life, even when it's not fair and it hurts. The hurt didn't always go way quickly, but I understood it more and I tried my best to help others through their grief while understanding my own.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stole this one too, but it was from Jamie herself<br />
and it had been her profile picture a couple of times<br />
so I'm guessing she liked it.</td></tr>
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On Tuesday morning I learned about Jamie. Less than 4 days after Adam's pain won over the love in his world, Jamie lost to her demons as well. Adam was my buddy and I cared for him and had a lot of love for him, but Jamie was my friend. She has been in and out of our lives the last couple of years dealing with her issues, but she just had dinner at our house. Whereas Adam was moreso a part of the lives of people in my life, Jamie was a part of my life. My family's life. The lives of my best friends who have made Rochester our home.<br />
<br />
This was a new one for me. My brain didn't know how to respond and in a lot of ways it didn't. I had already entered the acceptance phase of my grief when I found out about Jamie and I couldn't help but feel numb. I wanted to cry like I cried for Adam. I wanted to run the gambit again, I know it's for the best, but it just wasn't there. The hurt was there, the thoughts and questions and frustrations, but the feeling wasn't and that made me even more sad.<br />
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I held my wife as she cried. I cried with her. I checked in on friends who were closer and offered my support. I read amazing articles on <a href="http://brightside.me/article/not-everything-happens-for-a-reason-the-magic-words-to-say-when-everythings-going-wrong-55105/" target="_blank">grief </a>and <a href="http://magazine.good.is/articles/best-comment-ever" target="_blank">death</a> and depression and pain and I couldn't help but feel like I had skipped a few steps and I started questioning everything again. What was wrong with me? Am I doing enough? Am I supposed to say or do or feel something differently...? I saw people grieving openly for both of my friends and struggling to understand their own and the grief of others. I saw people upset at themselves, at strangers who wanted to share in their grief, at people they didn't feel earned the right to grieve as much as them. I thought I was beyond this and I thought I knew better.<br />
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That's when the friends stepped in. I saw these questions, this pain, this sadness, frustration and all the things met with love and hope.<br />
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Much like with Dumka, the pictures and the stories started rolling in. Jamie was weird and smart and funny and lively and lovely. The sadness was there, but the celebration won. Getting together, not just on social media, but in person let people smile through their tears. It let people tell stories others hadn't ever heard before. It brought us all closer to Jamie and closer to each other. The same happened for Dumka, but I got to be a part of it for Jamie. My cycle of grief caught up to itself and I started to feel lucky again.<br />
<br />
I am lucky to have known and been even a small part of these two extraordinary lives. I am lucky to know people who can love so unconditionally and who want to help even a distant friend get through their tough times. I'm lucky to have people who call me a friend and reach out to me. I'm lucky to hug my kids and ignore the pain while I make goofy voices and faces with them.<br />
<br />
I woke up sad and angry and I struggled through the day. It was there all day long, even when I laid in bed at the end of the night. I'm lucky for this pain. This is good. This is a testament to the lives of Jamie Shea and Adam Dumka. This is a testament to my Aunt Fern and Steve's Dad and my Grampa and Aunt Dawn and Uncle Bob and August Lindell and Stephen Schantz and Paul Brewer and everyone else who has ever left this world and forced us to grow and grieve and learn. I'm a better friend because of grief. I'm a better person because of loss. I'm going to be a better dad because of sadness.<br />
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It's different for all of us, this pain and this path, but I've decided that my lesson is in love. Lessons don't always come easy. Neither does love.<br />
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But looking for these things, a lesson or the love, in the worst situations makes everything better. Everything does not happen for a reason, but that doesn't mean you can't find a silver lining in a shitty situation. There's no road-map to grief and even these stages I've been talking about are subjective. Live through the worst times and be with those who are gracious enough to let you. Try to smile and remember the best, but cry and be sad when you need to. Most importantly keep loving and keep living. Never stop.<br />
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I'll miss you Jamie. I'll miss you Adam. We're all better for having you as long as we did.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPyrHEU9Od2D1XNO1iX-r1_xnV9k491QVFY1FTFjWo2hc9-gooGJU7Rsbhipx0i-SWOt3kVpaLbVsZ208Mz7RMoJSn_abbDRQbc1Aog8aEigNvKFMNgQg5g8oeCFQrExj-EWk61kn0QDj/s1600/Shea+and+Dumka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGPyrHEU9Od2D1XNO1iX-r1_xnV9k491QVFY1FTFjWo2hc9-gooGJU7Rsbhipx0i-SWOt3kVpaLbVsZ208Mz7RMoJSn_abbDRQbc1Aog8aEigNvKFMNgQg5g8oeCFQrExj-EWk61kn0QDj/s640/Shea+and+Dumka.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">These pictures are also stolen, <br />but I think they're both beautiful and I hope nobody is angry with me.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-26470566730063720122015-03-06T10:31:00.001-05:002015-12-08T15:27:47.146-05:00The Best Neighbors in the World - An Ode to Guy and Ronnie (Or why I support local business)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I grew up in a small neighborhood in a small town.</div>
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To put it into perspective I graduated with 85 people and we had one of the largest graduating classes. My best friend lived across the street from me and his parents were friends with my parents. When we did projects on our house, they were there. When they did, we were. So on and so forth.<br />
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Growing up in a small town, especially when you grow up far from frivolous spending and means, being a good neighbor is sort of second nature. My folks were always helping out one of the neighbors or they were helping us. Mr. Dorman, who lived next door, had the best garden around and almost every morning in harvest season we would find a small pile of fresh vegetables on our deck. He never said a word about it.<br />
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I don't think anyone ever said a word about it, yet that's how I was raised and that's how I've always tried to treat people. I should really bold and underline and italicize try because I'm far from perfect and I've been a real piece of s-h-i-t from time to time. Overall, both personally and professionally, I like helping people and I'm happy to do it. It's how I approach customer service, it's how I approach friendship and it's what I tell Mabel all the time.<br />
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I just want you to be nice.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ47_nZdjGjmRPrmVzukBxqSOOgq7H1IdGQSxu_cZfRzLo4Y-mBUVnf95Uw-UORV55nNACUp-n50iLXmWMKElO1QnNvV7Fb6Nv3QSFtpVXFCiJ_plzVUJv9VdOn7uAzEOQcsmUOMtoKw1M/s1600/JBN2x2_blackPack1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ47_nZdjGjmRPrmVzukBxqSOOgq7H1IdGQSxu_cZfRzLo4Y-mBUVnf95Uw-UORV55nNACUp-n50iLXmWMKElO1QnNvV7Fb6Nv3QSFtpVXFCiJ_plzVUJv9VdOn7uAzEOQcsmUOMtoKw1M/s1600/JBN2x2_blackPack1.png" width="319" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are a million of these things right on the internet.</td></tr>
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Having lived in Boston for a few years and then living here in Rochester, some of the neighborliness went away. I don't think it's necessarily second nature and sometimes it's good to be reminded that it should be. We really should slow down once in a while and when we do we realize a lot about the world around us. In the immortal words of Ferris Bueller:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://media.tumblr.com/34366294a6c634a89696911db49c8e24/tumblr_inline_mi2rozpn8u1qz4rgp.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="ferris bueller's day off get over here gif" border="0" class="main" data-link="/gifs/465584-ferris-buellers-day-off-get-over-here-gif" src="http://media.tumblr.com/34366294a6c634a89696911db49c8e24/tumblr_inline_mi2rozpn8u1qz4rgp.gif" height="164" title="ferris bueller's day off get over here gif" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nope, not the one I was looking for.</td></tr>
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Here it is!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXwS7_egjmNpHyd_0MQ8nKfFHgRDu7BuRlSPJ0DWOCprdKCku6Sjvmqt4eMjU5nTebqiH_otfF5wlnpKsMXIq3Saui935YrWX_gd2j71Z_bntSFbDw9RatOp1jSVY7RToXEWmWOBp0XXR/s1600/Ferris.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSXwS7_egjmNpHyd_0MQ8nKfFHgRDu7BuRlSPJ0DWOCprdKCku6Sjvmqt4eMjU5nTebqiH_otfF5wlnpKsMXIq3Saui935YrWX_gd2j71Z_bntSFbDw9RatOp1jSVY7RToXEWmWOBp0XXR/s320/Ferris.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
How cool is that guy?</div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
Not all that glitters is gold, Mathew Broderick accidentally killed a couple people in Ireland one time</div>
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I think I got off track somewhere. Classic me!<br />
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So back to the task at hand. Living in the city makes it easy to move through life and focus on what you need to focus on. We bought our house almost three years ago now and when we did we inherited a couple neighbors we had already heard great things about. They were friends of friends and even the people who used to own the house told us how great they were.<br />
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Those folks are Guy and Ronnie<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="240" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-a-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-xfa1/t31.0-8/885901_10152360611211845_8765696128826406857_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They are, in fact, that cute in person as well.</td></tr>
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From day one Guy and Ronnie have been amazing. They take friendly to a new level and write the book on sincerity. This has all flooded through my head because today, while I was at work, Jenna was trying to take Mabel to one of her toddler gym classes. On her way out she got stuck in our driveway. </div>
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I will now go one a 12 page diatribe about the weather this winter... no I won't, but I could.</div>
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Man, this is going to be a great blog because I can not think straight and I hate it already, it's not doing them justice at all, but that's bound to lead to literary gold!</div>
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Back to it... again. </div>
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Jenna called and told me she was stuck so I started packing up and coming home to help her get out. Halfway to the door she said Guy had come out to help her. </div>
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I drove home anyways to clear out the driveway so she could get back in. By the time I had gotten home Guy and Ronnie had already gotten Jenna out of the driveway and were breaking the ice and shoveling so she would be able to get back in. There was no question, no need to ask, it's just who they are.</div>
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This is far from the first time they have helped us and been the most amazing of people. Between borrowed tools, big projects, little projects and just general presence and concern, Guy and Ronnie have reminded me and taught me what it is to be a neighbor and a friend. Most notably, though I won't get too deep into it because it makes me cry, when Mabel got sick and had to be rushed to the hospital the day after her first birthday, it was Guy and Ronnie who saved Jenna and me (mostly me, I was a disaster). Above and beyond doesn't even begin to cover it and when you thank them they are quick to say, that's what friends or that's what neighbors are for. Thank Christ for friends and neighbors like them. </div>
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Part II:</div>
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Subtitle A: Or why I support local business</div>
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This obviously got me thinking about much more than how great it is to have neighbors who help you out in a pinch. I thought a lot about growing up in that neighborhood. I started thinking a lot about just how it helped develop me as an individual and how that neighborly inclination has led me down my path. Is it a direct correlation? I have no idea, I was never very good at research. But, then I started to think about Guy and Ronnie again. Guy is a ridiculously talented musician and generally handy guy who also happens to be a Rochester City Firefighter. Ronnie is brilliant and multi-talented and happens to be one of the proprietors of the best god damn food truck in all the land, Le Petit Poutine.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYb63y4aZg-sDlsXAaLCXd-0SyKg_8JBOoD7QLGvoa-hWwmTmRK2zBJoQu42UxdM4OA0BYdeeRMdpTdVjnkw-hQ22EV0b9wxVf-G_XljtRMJIAJg0QKbGN7uWN1QNTP6O8SHPTzpDW4xzg/s1600/poutine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYb63y4aZg-sDlsXAaLCXd-0SyKg_8JBOoD7QLGvoa-hWwmTmRK2zBJoQu42UxdM4OA0BYdeeRMdpTdVjnkw-hQ22EV0b9wxVf-G_XljtRMJIAJg0QKbGN7uWN1QNTP6O8SHPTzpDW4xzg/s320/poutine.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">It's even better than it looks.</span></td></tr>
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I see how hard Guy and Ronnie each work in and out of their chosen occupations. Their focus is almost always on whomever they are trying to help. In life, at home, at work, probably when they're singing in their cars driving around. Some might call it good customer service, but if we're being honest they are just good people. </div>
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That's why small businesses are amazing. The majority of the individuals who decide they're going to take the risk of starting/owning/operating a small business don't do it because they're going to get super rich right away and definitely not because it easy. They probably won't and it certainly isn't. The ones who last, the ones that leave a mark are all run by people who care about people. They've found a way to incorporate their general amazingly welcoming, loving, supportive selves into an industry that is not forgiving. </div>
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There is a small shop, in NYC it would be called a bodega, right around the corner from me on Winton Rd across from Main, run by a husband and his wife. They have four kids running around all the time too. They are the nicest people in the world. Every time you go in they are so happy to see you. They also happen to have a killer craft beer selection and all of you should be going there way more often. I should too, to be honest. It's a tough business and I hope they make it. It's strange to root for the owner of corner store, but I am because they've made me feel welcome and they deserve it. </div>
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I work at Marshall Street Bar and Grill part time. The owners, my friends Don and Kelly, are just smart people who know what people want and try to give it to them. Everyone thinks they are Don's best friend because Don makes everyone feel like they are his best friend. That's just who he is. They keep coming back. Kelly is out in the community constantly representing the bar and making connections. People love her. That's just who she is. She has learned and grown through Marshall Street and Marshall Street keeps getting better and better in another really tough business.<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMReaEqafiPV6Ib5U_1VVM4-vgBD9omsNwiGXw7mxIvPDQXwXLIJI7EGScWIPpfOrO5xLtTdYAW5OQ5F91iBecWoe4QjQPJYbp4aYLONC0QUofwf3yi8zosQzfKtwqihBVWIiUMu41poSX/s1600/marshall_street_bar_grill_15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMReaEqafiPV6Ib5U_1VVM4-vgBD9omsNwiGXw7mxIvPDQXwXLIJI7EGScWIPpfOrO5xLtTdYAW5OQ5F91iBecWoe4QjQPJYbp4aYLONC0QUofwf3yi8zosQzfKtwqihBVWIiUMu41poSX/s320/marshall_street_bar_grill_15.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shameless plug for Marshall Street.</td></tr>
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<h2 style="text-align: center;">
The Moral of this Story</h2>
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Good neighbors are good people.</div>
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Good people start good local stores.</div>
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Local stores enhance and give back to the community.</div>
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Be a good neighbor and support your community.</div>
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Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-62741363989329532292015-02-24T09:16:00.002-05:002015-02-24T09:16:49.939-05:00I hang out with college kids for a livingTwo weeks ago I was talking to my boss (he's great, this isn't about him). We were talking about changes to a seminar we run together for all first year students. It's nothing new in higher ed, but it is becoming seemingly more difficult to find a curriculum that lands with students. We were chatting, going back and forth, when I made a comment about getting older and how it's going to keep getting harder to identify with students and for students to identify with me.<br />
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I said it very casually and off the cuff, but I haven't stopped thinking about it since.<br />
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<b>Some background</b>:<br />
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The title of this post, "I hang out with college kids for a living" is exactly how I used to describe my job to friends and family. (Filling this out on tax forms is also very strange.) In all honestly, that's why I got into higher education. As an over-involved college student I was good at connecting with my peers and helping people get what they needed out of a team/event/experience/class etc.<br />
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Law school plans were out. Higher Ed was in. I wanted to be an orientation leader for the rest of my life. I wanted to feel those connections and see the look of relief in a parent or a students eyes every time I got to answer their questions. It's an incredibly selfish aspect of the call to service. I wanted to help people during this trying and confusing time, but I wanted to do it more because I was good at it and because it made me feel good to make them feel good. Still, it was easy and I didn't have to work too hard to do it well.<br />
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That's not a humble brag, it's actually a pretty damning self reflection on the first few years of my career:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b>I relied much more on my personality and ability to connect with people than I did on my work ethic or knowledge of the subject matter. I made people feel welcomed and valued, but I didn't have to do much in order to make that happen.</b></blockquote>
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I should have.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONu9l_gX36GieZ4wrnl3xwFz5BMzbXB7MkazDg2F1fEpNdt5M4_v-34bOnG3ODMVZbuhPaYtxP7taKEIi8Cuxzdb29CYxVjDakCy5pgq0XuihDxRPScRamXiCNbJlCzX17lFi4nJ5OsOJ/s1600/20140821_203122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONu9l_gX36GieZ4wrnl3xwFz5BMzbXB7MkazDg2F1fEpNdt5M4_v-34bOnG3ODMVZbuhPaYtxP7taKEIi8Cuxzdb29CYxVjDakCy5pgq0XuihDxRPScRamXiCNbJlCzX17lFi4nJ5OsOJ/s1600/20140821_203122.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who would trust a guy who shaved his head in the hallway, only wore free shirts, had that goatee (look close), wore any rubber-band he found on the ground? Everyone. That's who. Everyone trusted me. Isn't Nickel adorable, by the way?</td></tr>
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That's how it went for a long time. Too long. I spent almost six years at Newbury College. I made some great friends, great connections and helped a lot of students by merely being there for them. There were some students who inspired me and I stepped up for them, but in general I phoned it in and relied on people liking me to get the job done. My half ass was often more noticeable than others' full ass, so I got by pretty well, often with praise I craved, but I know I didn't deserve.<br />
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The move to SUNY Geneseo changed that. I was learning new things. I was pushed to make a plan for my future. The initial question I was asked by my boss during our first meeting was,<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>What do you want to get out of this job and where do you want to be in five years?</i></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY3zqrFm1f4H1Vp901CZuzEWXdU0jyKGS0cG2WpI1KlzYz0WOq-q0oECgxti-01NcviYdF5vukKk2NMbIh_Vhl79qmqzBtI3MCypyLqNPizZzIVhrBTlhCApdduq_iyo6xyhyphenhyphend1-qKN1A/s1600/148014pre_dabcc135473aee0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSY3zqrFm1f4H1Vp901CZuzEWXdU0jyKGS0cG2WpI1KlzYz0WOq-q0oECgxti-01NcviYdF5vukKk2NMbIh_Vhl79qmqzBtI3MCypyLqNPizZzIVhrBTlhCApdduq_iyo6xyhyphenhyphend1-qKN1A/s1600/148014pre_dabcc135473aee0.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I eventually got thick glasses and started to part my hair on the side to prove it. <br />Skinny tie helped.</td></tr>
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I answered that I wanted to be a director again. At the time I had no idea what that meant. I think I wanted to be in charge for the sake of the praise and the autonomy my ego needed. Still, in spite of myself, I started to accomplish the things I didn't know I wanted. I still relied on connecting with students, but I used that to make my program better, not to make me look better. I got better. Far from perfect, but I got better.<br /><br /><b>Fast forward to now</b>, my time here at Nazareth College. I still feel a connection with many of my students. I love working with first years and teaching that class because I still believe I have something to offer the students. I'm 14 years older than most of them, but I can still identify the points of reference they need to connect with or the missing link they're searching for.<br />
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When I mentioned connecting and identifying with our students to my boss I originally thought it was just getting older. I mean, I am. That's the truth, but the more I thought of it, it wasn't the reason. I started to ask why. I've spent a lot of (enough of) my life dissecting old terrible decision and accepting others for theirs, hopefully we all have (we haven't). In light of this, I don't know if I've ever critically thought about my personal connection to my work outside of: I'm good with people and I'm good with college students.<br />
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I hope I am, I mean I think I am. I think those things are true, but it's different now. When I took my new job almost a year ago, I gave up a caseload of 72 students. One-on-one academic counselling connections that filled up my schedule along with about 120 peer tutors, a summer welcome team, and a committee for advising the tutors. I was worried I was going to miss the connection, so I was excited to teach my first year courses. I'm glad I did. My students still say they like me and they can relate to me and it still makes me happy, but, if it makes sense, I don't care anymore. I care that they're happy and successful. If making real connections with them leads to that: bonus! The difference is I used to need them to like me. I used to want so badly to be the cool guy everyone could count on, at work and in my real life. In some ways I was (<i>I just deleted a diatribe about what it means to be cool</i>), but it was shallow and in many ways superficial.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sad Keanu is just thinking about life man. <br />Life and sandwiches.</td></tr>
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Things are different now. What, at first, was a scary notion that I wasn't going to be relevant or connected for my students anymore turned into a serious bit of self reflection and realization. Again, this is funny because I encourage my students to do this stuff all the time, yet here we are, life epiphanies coming from heeding my own advice to others. Having my students feel connected to me helps me do my job, but I no longer need it. I'm good at my job, or I'm at least trying to be good at my job, because of the work I put into it. I try to look at my programs from what the students need, even if they don't know it. I can't look at my programs from the lense of what I needed when I was their age any longer. I had no idea what I needed when I was that age.<br />
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So what does this all mean and how does it help any of us. Well I don't know if it does. It helps me. It helps me a lot actually. I know I have felt like I was doing good work at Naz since I got here, but I guess I know what that means a little more now. My work isn't for the praise or my advancement, like it had been for so much of my adult life, it's for the students. They don't need to need me, but I know they need the programs I'm offering; even if they don't. They don't need my help because it's me, they need my help because the programs I'm running are designed to benefit them and make their college life better. This is what's going to to lead to the praise and advancement I still crave. I've decided it's okay to want something, but needing something can really mess a guy up when it's not really needed at all. No more of that. I work hard because I like working hard. I'm good at my job because of that hard work.<br />
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We all need to grow and adapt through life. It's the most obvious thing in the world, so why is it so hard to do? We jump to point out when others are making choices based on settling and comfort, but we're blind when we're doing it ourselves. There is nothing wrong with getting comfortable as long as you know things are bound to change and you are ready for that. It's going to happen soon and it will always happen. We need to keep pushing, we need to keep learning, we need to keep reflecting and asking why. We can do it in our jammies or on our couch with a beer and friends, but we need to do it.<br />
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When you ask me what I do now, I still don't know how to answer, but it's something more straight forward.<br />
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I'm a dad, that's pretty great. In my downtime I'm the director of a student support center.<br />
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<br />Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-30050265112149214402014-07-21T12:28:00.000-04:002015-02-27T09:27:27.677-05:00Revisiting Focused Reinvention<b><span style="font-size: large;">Editor's Note: This was a waste of a blog and I'm not happy with, 1 - how poorly I did, 2 - how poorly written it is, 3 - how pointless it is. Skip to one of the awesome </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">(read: not shitty)</span><span style="font-size: large;"> ones.</span></b><br />
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When I started this blog the focus was clear and simple.<br />
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In the last year before my 30's I wanted to live actively and document as much of that as possible. I tell myself through the random updates here and the <a href="http://llittlebabychew.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Mabel Blog</a> that I've at least kept up with this goal a little bit.<br />
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Well, we tell ourselves a lot of things that aren't true, now don't we. I have wanted to get back to writing and the original goals of the blogs since the day I stopped blogging. There are a million excuses: I got a new job, I'm spending more time with Mabel, I'm working more, family time is more important. It's mostly bullshit, because when I think of all of those things it makes me just want to write more. I have so many stories to share and so many personal trials and triumphs to write through.<br />
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So here I am.<br />
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I'm starting this on a Monday rather than the Sunday I intended mostly due to a little something called #Pearsworth (Look it up if you feel so inclined), but if I'm being honest this is scary. I'm about to outline a pretty significant life change and focus that will be a challenge and it's a little trying on the old nerves. Now after you read the plan you might say to yourself,<br />
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"None of those things are that hard, Thomas. People do them all the time."<br />
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To which I will reply.<br />
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"I know, but I don't."<br />
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In the spirit of friendship and community I welcome any and all of you who might read this to join me, even partially so we can support each other. I don't like being told what to do, few of us do, but I honestly and sincerely appreciate support, encouragement and a polite kick in the ass every once in a while.<br />
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Alright, so here it goes.<br />
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The Thomas R. Chew is Now Closer to Being 32 Than 29 So He Wants to Live With More Focus To Do List</h2>
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<ol>
<li>I'm going to write.</li>
<ol>
<li>One blog or another, at least twice a week.</li>
<li>I'd like to do some more creative writing, but I've never been very good at planned creative writing. I guess I'll have to just have to be more ridiculous when I write here.</li>
</ol>
<li>I'm going to work out.</li>
<ol>
<li>At least five days a week for at least 45 minutes a day.</li>
<li>Jenna and I already eat pretty fresh and very well, but it's all a waste if I sit around like a plug. Also, Jenna started working out again so there is the guilt/shame/motivation going on there.</li>
<li>I'm not going to eat deep fried stuff either. I tried this once before and weight literally fell off of me.</li>
<ol>
<li>"But Thomas, you're so handsome and fit, you don't need to lose weight." </li>
<li>"Thank you, I agree. Except the fit stuff." </li>
<li>I'm not really looking to lose weight, but I would like to feel overall healthy again. I'm at 179 pounds, which is whatever, I don't even know what that means. At my heaviest I was at about 220. At my most fit I was at about 185. So weight isn't necessarily a concern, just the way I feel and working out and eating well and blah blah blah... you get it right? </li>
</ol>
<li>I'll be tracking the working out and eating well on the MyFitnessPal app, so if you have it we can be friends.</li>
</ol>
<li>I'm not going to drink.</li>
<ol>
<li>Whoa, whoa, whoa, right?</li>
<li>I'm going to give it a month. A month of no drinks at all. If I'm going to work out and eat healthy I might as well not drink for a little bit so it truly shows the effects of a cleaner style of living. </li>
<li>Jenna is on board with this as well, so it should make it easier. </li>
</ol>
<li>Foster connections and friendships.</li>
<ol>
<li>Being a dad and having Mabel is literally the best thing that has ever happened to me. But becoming a parent changes your relationships. Any time your priorities or time commitments shift dramatically, this becomes the case. It's easy to overlook and focus on the new areas of life, but I'd like to be more active in my attempt to maintaining relationships.</li>
<li>The number of hugs given and received has been staggeringly low. Mabel is more cuddly than she used to be so that makes up for almost all of it, but sometimes you just need a good friend hug.</li>
</ol>
<li>Sub-Goals that might be too ambitious-</li>
<ol>
<li>Read way more</li>
<li>Go to bed earlier</li>
<li>Wake up earlier</li>
<li>Become a wealthy industrialist</li>
<li>Start a non-profit called "Do Gooder" designed to recognize and benefit those who help others</li>
<li>Make a documentary with Brandon about rich people</li>
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So there you have it. At least for now. I'll be sure to adjust and edit things out when I slip up so nobody can prove I said I was going to do it in the first place, but until then it's on the internet so it has to be true. </div>
Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-58266499825106342972014-02-13T20:23:00.002-05:002014-11-17T09:40:56.265-05:00The Best Version of Me - A Love LetterOnce again, it has been too long since I've finished writing something.<br />
Even this, which I'm deathly determined to complete is in it's 10th or 11th iteration.<br />
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I don't know why I've struggled so much, but I know it scares me a little. That's probably the cause of and answer to more than I'd like to admit.<br />
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I've recently realized I don't have a grasp of "myself" lately.<br />
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I know what I do. I know what I try to represent. I know who I choose to have in my life, but I haven't quite figured out where I fall as an individual.<br />
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Recently I have tried to picture the best version of me. Who is it? Who was it? When was it? What was going on in my life that allowed that person to exist. Here are a few things I've come up with:<br />
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<ul>
<li>I used to be remarkably self assured. Even when I knew I was being an asshole or making terrible decisions, I knew I was great and life would go back to being great. This was all bullshit. I didn't realize this was all bullshit right away of course. It took a long time to let myself understand and accept the fact that I had hurt others, that I had been hurt, and that it was okay to not be great all the time. I started to learn this the hard way my senior year of college, but I don't think I really started accepting any of it until Jenna.</li>
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<li>I've always been good with people. I can read people, I understand and want to help people. I haven't ever been nervous around new people. I used to think I could break down and justify anything and anyone's actions based on my acceptance and understanding that everyone is flawed and everyone makes mistakes. This led to a lot of people rolling over me, because they could. This also led to me walking away from a lot of situations and relationships at the first sign of conflict. <br /><br />"If we're going to fight or bicker, it's not worth it. I don't need that, I just need to be happy." <br /><br />Needless to say I never really learned how to share my grievances or serious concerns with people I was close with. That was until the first time Jenna and I disagreed on something significant. It wasn't until Jenna when I finally had to learn how to fight. Believe me, she's a good teacher. I'm still not very good at it, but at least I see its value. <br /><br />When it came to Jenna, something felt different. Instead of blowing it off I knew I needed to fight back. For a long time I would still let things build and eventually blow up (that's what happens when you don't learn how to express things, but you're a smart guy who completely understand these issues in other people). It wasn't the best way to approach the situation, but at least I blew up. At least it came out... I remember the first time this happened and through tears Jenna and I looked at each other and were more in love than we had ever been. She knew something different had happen and she knew my words were sincere and she knew she needed to take them to heart</li>
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I bring this up, because I really think it is one of the things that is standing in the way of figuring out who I currently am. I still hold the old guy who used to let things roll off his back and was always the happiest of happy close to my heart. I put him on a pedestal actually. It's still the guy most of my students see. It's the guy a lot of peripheral friends know (maybe even some great friends), but it isn't completely me. The hard part is this exterior version of me is true, but also by design. I like being liked. I like being counted on. I like all of those things, but I have learned that it isn't worth suppressing the true feelings that others might find off putting or disagree with. I say I don't care about it. I try not to care about it and now, I'm not going to care about it. <br />
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The point is I am far from the persona I used to try so hard to portray. I can be a dick. I get frustrated. I get mad. I blow things off or bottle things up until I snap. Sadly, the person who taught me how to overcome this is often at the receiving end of it. Don't get me wrong, Jenna isn't a saint I should never get mad at, but she is my saint who is worth getting mad at.<br />
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Recently Jenna and I had an argument. A pretty serious and severe argument which ended in a significant joint realization.<br />
I no longer knew how to access the guy I used to be.<br />
That. Scared. The. Shitballs. Out of me.<br />
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It's all I've been thinking about and it's all I've been trying to write about, but I didn't know how. I think I know how now and this is what I've discovered -<br />
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That guy is gone. Thank Christ. That guy had a lot going for him at the time and accomplished quite a bit, but I need to be better than that guy. I don't want to be the guy Jenna fell in love with. I don't want to be the guy who everyone liked. I want to be a new guy.<br />
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I want to be a guy who realizes that he has always been flawed and that old guy was particularly flawed. Even if he was good at bottling it up... he wasn't capable of dealing with it. This new guy I've been trying to be for the last few years has been better, but he's far from good. I've been trying to be that guy, but live the life of this new guy. It's constant friction between two mindsets that can't work together.<br />
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It has taken a while, but I am glad that guy is gone and I'm glad I'm going through all of this, because I think... literally as I write this... that I'm about to be the best version of me I've ever been.<br />
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I think I'm finally at that place where I can see the best and the worst of myself coming out in different situations. My students bring out the best of me... but they remind me of the worst.<br />
Jenna has always been and remains my trigger (for both sides of the coin). Once I learned how, I spent a lot of, too much, time prepping myself to get in an argument before I started to understand that I was the one starting the arguments.<br />
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This all came about when I realized the Jenna who was worth fighting for isn't here anymore. While I've been prepping myself for random arguments with the old Jenna I failed to realize there was this new, amazing, better than ever Jenna coming through.<br />
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I married a woman who wanted to be a better person than she was. I married a woman who knew she was growing and wanted me to be a part of it. She looked to me to help her in that journey and she let me influence her in the best ways and blocked out the worst. My wife is a perfect combination of who we both used to be. She found a way to embrace all of it and live in a new life where she shares joy with our daughter and the world.<br />
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I realized, way too recently, that I want to be like her again. I don't want to be the best parts of me, I want to be the best parts of us. I could never have figured that out if it wasn't for her. The patience she has found and the level of forgiveness and compassion she is capable of blows my mind. She is the person I want to be like. She's my hero and I'm smiling as I write this because it's just true. She's the best and I love her.<br />
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This is who I want to be and if you're reading this, I hope you're willing to be on this journey with me:<br />
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I want to be kind.<br />
I want to be open and honest.<br />
I want to love freely and forgive quickly.<br />
I want to embrace change in all it's glorious shittiness. <br />
I want to help people become who they are trying to become by just being myself.<br />
I want to push myself to be a better husband, father, son, counselor, advisor, friend.<br />
I want to find the joy and learn a lesson in everything I do.<br />
I want to do all of this with my wife and with my daughter for the rest of my life.<br />
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It's a project and a process and someday it'll all change. I'm thankful for that. I'm thankful for having chosen a beautifully flawed partner who let me be a part of her mending or growing process and (yes it might have taken a while) let me find out on my own that she has always been the catalyst for my own. <br />
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Thank you Jenna. I love who you were. I love who you are. I love who we will become.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-19429773955618240852013-08-16T11:14:00.003-04:002013-08-16T11:14:52.470-04:00Five Years of Us and Seven Months of Mabel<br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I wrote the letter below in my other blog, littlebabychew. It was written in honor of my five year anniversary that just happened to be a few days after Mabel's 7 month anniversary in our family. I can't tell you how many things I think of throughout the day that I say to myself: Man, I should write a blog about that or that could definitely be a story. I don't write nearly as much as I'd like to, but when I do make or find the time, I'm glad when I get to reflect on my life. I started this blog almost two years ago to mentally prepare myself for turning 30 years old. Since then I have bought a house, been a small part in having a beautiful baby girl, and 30 has come and gone. I should write more. I will, I'm sure. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I think back before Jenna was in my life. I wrote when I was a teenager to get rid of my angst and because it was cathartic. Most of that stuff is terrible. I wrote in college because I had to, but more often than not I thought it was fun enough. I didn't write for years after that... nothing. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I write more now than I ever have in my life and for that I'm lucky. I write more now because I have more to write about. I've spent five years with the love of my life and our family is growing and perfect. I'll keep writing, because I'll keep getting better. Life is a luxury and I'm currently living pretty F'n large. So here is a letter to little Mabel Jayne in honor of her Momma and our lives together. </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Cheers to all the years to come and all the unwritten words. There's plenty of time to find them and there is certainly plenty of motivation.</span></i></div>
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Little Mabel-</div>
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Five years ago, on this day August 16th, 2008, your Momma and Daddy stood in a beautiful little backyard grove and said some vows that ended in some "I do's". Leading up to that day, your mom and I felt an inexplicable draw to each other that ended up forming a bond that eventually led to you, our little peanut. I want to tell you a few things I've learned in that four years and five months before you joined the family:</div>
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1 - Time matters. How you spend it, where you spend it and who you spend it with are all remarkably important. Being conscious of that time and acknowledging it doesn't come easy or natural to most people, but when you learn to do so, it changes everything. That time we spent over those years taught us how to love each other better than we ever did before we were married. It taught us how to talk to each other, sometimes how to fight each other, and it taught us to appreciate the mere fact that we were together. We have grown as people, we have grown as a couple, and we have grown as friends to each other and to your vast web of grandmas, grandpas, aunts and uncles.</div>
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All that time, I don't think we realized we were just prepping for you. It's easy to love you and your perfect giggle, gorgeous smile, and everlasting loving looks, but the time and love your momma and I have spent cultivating makes it so much easier to see all the joy and beauty through the times that aren't always easy. Your first cold (which you're just getting over) is nothing compared to watching you roll over on all fours and rock back and forth, prepping for that first crawl. The sleepy mornings after long nights are nothing compared to what we're pretty sure is waving when we say hi and barking when you see Daisy.</div>
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2 - Talking matters. By the time you read this, I'm sure you'll have a pretty good idea of your old man's propensity for chattiness. It's easy for me to talk and to give fun speeches and to address large groups, but it hasn't always been easy for me to talk about the important stuff. Your mom either. Five years ago, we had remarkably different approaches for dealing with our conflicts or sharing what we really wanted to get out of our relationship. We worked through it through eventually breaking down those barriers and because we never stopped talking to each other and we kept loving each other.</div>
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Learning how to speak to one another, which hopefully we will pass on to you, took a lot of time, but after five years, hopefully we have a pretty good grasp of it. Sometimes, especially now, when I'm frustrated or I know your Momma is frustrated I think of you and I think of five years ago and I smile knowing that it's such a minuscule moment in our lives and I get less frustrated. That all came about through time and talking and just pure love for you and your mom. She does the same for me. More than I acknowledge, but I'm so proud of her. I fell in love with a person years and years ago who has grown into one of the best people I know. She just keeps getting better and better and you get to have her as your Momma and we get to share all this love with you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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3 - Love matters. Your Momma and I have been married for five years today because we love each other. We love each other for the people we were, people we are, and the people we're still becoming and will someday become. In these five years, those three words haven't always been easy to say, but they have always been the port we come back to. We say them to you every day and we want you to grow up to know what love is because you saw it every day of your life. We want you to learn how to talk, how to appreciate life, and how to love by giving back to you what you have given us.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
We have spent five years become better people with and for each other, little Mabel Jayne, and now, seven months into your already amazing life, it's even more evident than it was on day one: We were learning to love each other better so we could love you and our new family the best. Thank you for giving us all that you have given us and thank you for helping me appreciate who your parents are as people, as individuals and as a couple. I don't thank your Mom enough out loud, but I thank her every day in my heart and in my life by saying those three small words and knowing she is the best part of me and has given me the best part of us, which is you.</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I love you little girl. Thanks for making us better and thank you for helping me realize all the amazing things I get to teach you. I'm the luckiest Daddy, the luckiest husband, and the luckiest person I know. That's all because of the last five years with your Momma, and the last seven months with you.</div>
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Thank you, both.</div>
Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-80304264782336606092013-04-19T10:56:00.000-04:002014-11-17T09:40:34.592-05:00What's Next?<h2>
Update: I hate everything about this post, but I'm not going to delete it because that feels like lying somehow. For anyone who might be going back to read things, don't read this one. Skip it and read the Marathon Monday post or the one about the Bills or your Late 20's sucking.</h2>
<i><br /></i>
<i>Yesterday (Thursday) the FBI released pictures of the two suspects in the Boston Marathon bombing.</i><br />
<i>This morning, at 5:30am Jenna woke me up with news that one of the suspects had been killed along with an M.I.T. campus policeman, a 26 year old named named Sean. Suspect one is dead. Suspect two is on the loose.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Skip ahead a few hours and Boston is on lockdown. Twitter is sharing pictures of police snipers on roofs, armored trucks rolling through the streets. Most of the city is shut down and people are scared. The only consolation at this point is this part of the debacle will most likely be over soon, the hardest part is who knows if we'll get any answers.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Jump to West Texas where a fertilizer plant exploded killing around 40 just two days ago.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Jump to Washington, D.C. where, despite incredible support from the American public, the Senate bi-partisanly put an end to talks of gun reform and background checks. President Obama called it a "sad day in Washington" and a "failure." </i><br />
<br />
Let's get something straight:<br />
<br />
The last five days have been fucked up.<br />
<br />
I apologize for my language, but everything else I typed didn't share the gravity.<br />
<br />
I wanted to write thanking everyone who read and shared the last post I wrote regarding the Marathon Bombing. It was viewed over 1500 times in two days and I am still in awe of the response and how much people care.<br />
<br />
I wanted to write asking people to help me. I was motivated, I was encouraged, I was excited to be sharing something with so many people! But I need help, too often it takes a disastrous event or a major life change to move me to words, and I do not want that to be the case.<br />
What should I do?<br />
How should I proceed?<br />
Should I proceed?<br />
<br />
I wanted to write and share the positivity that swept through the world despite the horrific events. Whether it was the <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/15/mr-rogers-look-for-the-helpers_n_3088716.html" target="_blank">Mr. Rogers quotes</a>, the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pattonoswalt/posts/10151440800582655" target="_blank">Patton Oswalt Facebook</a> post I already shared, the <a href="http://filmdrunk.uproxx.com/2013/04/patton-oswalts-star-wars-filibuster-from-parks-and-rec-is-spectacular" target="_blank">Patton Oswalt Star Wars filibuster</a> for that matter, <a href="http://www.uproxx.com/webculture/2013/04/someones-gonna-be-disappointed-20-of-the-most-poignant-things-said-by-george-carlin/#page/1" target="_blank">George Carlin quotes</a>, or blogs and retrospectives written by other individuals personally working their way through events (Here are two I've shared on Facebook from my good friends <a href="http://nowdoyoubelieve.wordpress.com/2013/04/16/sacred-redefined-my-takeaway-from-the-2013-boston-marathon/" target="_blank">Kris </a>and <a href="http://raisinganangel.blogspot.com/2013/04/chapter-15-explaining-evil.html" target="_blank">Justin</a>). People stood up (or maybe sat down) and took the time to think, feel, and share their way through an awful moment in our history.<br />
<br />
Hope was sought, some peace was found, love was shared.<br />
<br />
Now how do we move on from this? Individually? Nationally? Politically? Peacefully?<br />
<br />
In all honesty, most people will do exactly what they did after Newtown, Aurora, Oklahoma City and all the other sites of local terror, atrocity and death; they will use them as references in blogs, but move on with their life saying things like, "we should do something" or "something like that could happen right here" to "is our government going to do anything."<br />
<br />
Well, in short, yes we should, yes it could, and no it isn't.<br />
<br />
Our government is broken. I won't turn this into a political rant, but it is a fact that our elected officials are often elected because they raised the most money from special interest groups. Thus, they function on behalf of those groups. They are basically paid to be elected and as we saw with the gun control vote, despite 90% of public support, the officials elected to represent the public failed miserably.<br />
<br />
It's sad. It's frustrating. It's seemingly and almost comically futile. <br />
<br />
Most people will go on with their every day lives a little sadder, maybe a little more cautious. The folks in Boston and the families directly effected by these events in West, Texas, Newtown, Connecticut, etc. don't get off that easily. They will live with it every day, some for the rest of their lives. Most of us still ultimately feel safe when we go to bed. If you don't live in one of those places and you don't feel safe, give it a week or two, if you're honest with yourself you will most likely realize you haven't thought much about the bombings or shootings.<br />
<br />
I don't have answers. I don't know what we can <i>actually </i>do. I want to start electing officials who are going to represent the people. I want to stop people from jumping to broad conclusions based on race, religion or even their relation to the Mason Dixon Line. <br />
<br />
I want our country and our world to change, but I honestly don't have any idea how that is going to happen. I don't want to go on living my life without change, but what can we do?<br />
<br />
Some people say the best way to combat events like this is to go on living your life. I agree, to a point, but living our every day lives typically ignores everything that is wrong with the world.<br />
<br />
Man! I'm getting frustrated writing this, so it's time to take a step back ...<br />
<br />
I don't believe we have the luxury of simply living our lives anymore. Maybe I should say we don't have the luxury of living our lives blindly or trusting that "they'll" take care of it.<br />
<br />
I want to be challenged.<br />
I want to be called out on my words and actions.<br />
I want to be asked to help.<br />
I want to be asked if we can make things better.<br />
I want to make things better.<br />
I want to reiterate some things I said in my last post...<br />
I want to teach our children to think and be better people of the world. I don't want to stop there.<br />
I want to teach myself, my friends, my parents, my world to be better.<br />
<br />
I don't know how.<br />
<br />
I want you to help me.<br />
<br />
Many of us were not directly effected by the tragedies of the last 30 years. Most of us are thoughtful and conscientious enough to offer support and condolences, but that only goes so far. I haven't heard of anyone I know being physically injured by the events in Boston. Yet ...<br />
<br />
All morning I have been reading Facebook and Twitter posts from people huddled in their Newton/Brighton/Watertown homes with the doors locked and their children scared. That feeling isn't going to go away anytime soon for those people. I hope beyond hope that their fear, uncertainty, and madness is met with swift resolution and replaced with action, love, support, and eventually peace of mind.<br />
<br />
You might not be there.<br />
<br />
The explosion at the fertilizer plant might not have been a terrorist event, but make no mistake that the survivors and the victims families are currently living in terror.<br />
<br />
It is inevitable that, at some point, we will all be struck with tragedy, horror, or atrocity. That statement isn't meant to be disheartening, it is meant to be true. It is a fact of life that life isn't always good. Bad things happen to great people. That's okay. Without the bad we could never see the good and we could never fight against the darkness. We would never get the motivation of thought and consideration for life.<br />
<br />
None of these events have been good.<br />
Please, help me find the good <i>in</i> them. Help me find a path that leads to change.<br />
Help me figure out what to write next.<br />
<br />
I hope the next one is funny. Whatever I write, I hope it is funny. Not everyone agrees, but I think I'm pretty funny. Just don't read my post about Parson Brown... stick with the ones about being in your 20's or the Buffalo Bills... pretty much anything about the Bills is hilarious at this point.<br />
<br />
<br />Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-46941266374998017072013-04-15T20:19:00.000-04:002015-03-18T10:34:24.496-04:00Marathon Monday<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><b>Warning</b></span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;">: <i>The following is a rant
written by an angry and sad young man who spent much of his formative life in
the city of Boston. His words might not be coherent or well written. He is
doing his best to work through a situation he will never understand. Also, he
posts everything without rereading or editing and curses on occasion... for
your consideration.</i><br />
<br />
Boston was home for 20 percent of my life.<br />
<br />
I lived and worked a quarter of a mile away from the 20-mile mark of the Boston
Marathon. My first Marathon Monday was humorously unappreciated, as I didn't
know what Patriot's Day was or even that I had the day off. I was completely
ignorant of the holiday and how much of a spectator event the marathon is. I
walked to Cleveland Circle that year, but spent more time avoiding my students
openly "celebrating" than I did watching the race.<br />
<br />
Over the next five years, my experience certainly evolved from watching
closely, cheering for strangers, to the often-muttered "maybe we should do
this next year," to what became a little tradition of following the race
path from Boston College into the city. Each year I eventually came to the
finish line and watched families greet their loved ones after completing an
amazing feat. Each year I grew closer to the city and closer to the race.<br />
<br />
Marathon Monday became one of the rare holidays I respected. Not because they
call it Patriot's Day, but because of how easily it brought a city together for
an utterly positive event. Thousands of thousands of strangers cheering and
celebrating thousands of strangers. Families, friends, children, volunteers,
sidewalk barbecues. It could have been chaos, but an aura of respect always
seemed to keep order.<br />
<br />
Today I was home when Facebook told me about the bombs.<br />
Jenna was home as well and we spent the next few hours balancing playing with
the baby, watching Desmond and searching for news.<br />
<br />
The positives I've taken from today have been few, but significant. The power
of social media has been astounding. I have gotten better, faster, more
efficient information from Twitter and Facebook than from the network news. </span></span><a href="http://sbn.to/16YPj3c" target="_blank">Patton Oswalt wrote a fantastic post</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"> that
will thankfully be read and shared by thousands of his fans and individuals. I
have seen instant and sincere shows of support without the pomp and
circumstance (read purposeful terror, embellishment, and lack of any sort of
decorum or ethics) from the networks.<br />
<br />
That bring me to some of the negative.<br />
<br />
We live in a tough world.<br />
<br />
We live in quite possibly the best part of that tough world. Our problems are
the price of gas for our cars or minor annoyances like traffic. The majority of
the planet has real worries. You know what they are ... you have seen it in
movies, flashes on the news, fly-by-night Facebook campaigns or maybe on a few
placards on your college green.<br />
<br />
The terror and sadness much of our country feels today after the devastating
event at the finish line of the Marathon so many thousands have run and so many
millions have enjoyed is the same terror and sadness much of the world lives
with on a daily basis. When the special hour long ABC World News is opened with
"Terror! In Boston." Spoken in the deepest most treacherous voice
they could find in the bad movie voice over department there was no doubt they
were trying to keep us scared. They are referencing the blood, the other
national tragedies and bombings and making sure to spout off as many buzzwords
about fear, pain, suffering, or terror as they can fit in.<br />
<br />
I've felt sick all afternoon.<br />
I felt sick after hearing about the bombs.<br />
I felt sick after seeing photos and video footage.<br />
I felt sick thinking of my students and friends who could have been in danger.<br />
I felt sick remembering four years ago when Jenna and I were happily strolling around
the finish line right around the three-hour mark of the marathon.<br />
I felt sick reading the ignorant Facebook posts from friends and strangers
already placing blame or assuring the unknown enemy of a swift and violent
response.<br />
I felt sick at how easily individuals turn to hate, racism, violence, and utter
indecency in response to the same.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><br />
My heart broke as I watched my little girl laughing and playing with her mommy,
completely unaware of the pains the world will bring her.<br />
<br />
It's sad. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;">All of it.<br />
The action. Much of the response.<br />
What it says about our world.<br />
<br />
A lot of people asked the double-barreled (no pun intended) question,
"What is our world coming to? Is nothing sacred?"<br />
<br />
This has always been the world in which we live; today it's just a little
closer than most.<br />
<br />
Making things sacred are the reason they are targeted and the reason it hurts
so bad when they are desecrated. Kevin Smith hasn't given us much lately, but
he did give us Chris Rock's speech in Dogma about having ideas of faith over
beliefs. People hold onto beliefs as if they are facts. They kill and die for
them. Ideas can change; ideas, like people, are flexible and give way to
conversation, growth, and adjustment.<br />
<br />
None of the religions have it right. None of the countries have it right.
Chances are if someone is telling you something is definitely one way over
another, they have an agenda.<br />
<br />
Our young people need to learn to think. Learn to question everything. Learn
that the only thing that is going to separate them from the person next to them
is their individual identity and unique thoughts. Learn how lucky we are to be
where we are, but that this is not the greatest place in the world. America,
like anyplace else, is terribly flawed because its people are flawed. I do not
seek a remedy for that - I am looking for acceptance. If we all stopped making
so many broad stroke assumptions or hate-based reactions…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
Today is a sad day in my world because I spent so much time in Boston; the city
and the marathon mean so much to me. Today is a sad day in my world because I
have been so disappointed by so many people and formally respectable
establishments.<br />
<br />
I choose to swallow up all this anger, breathe through all this sadness and
look at the details. When the first bomb went off on Boylston today it knocked
an older gentleman running the race to his knees and on the ground. By now,
most of you have seen that image and the following image of the man sitting in
the street bleeding. You see the smoke, blood, wreckage and carnage. It is
scary. It's okay to be scared and mad and sad ... <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but don't forget to notice the details</i>. When that bomb went off and
that man fell to the ground, a half a dozen individuals ran right to his side.
They ran toward the smoke and noise and into the carnage.<br />
<br />
These men and women aren't what is good about America or Boston or their
religions or anything else. These men and women are the only hope possessed by humanity.
Through all the filth, hate, destruction and muck, the bright light is our
capacity for complete and utter selflessness. I truly believe it was in each
and every one of us at some point. Some people have lost it through these
tragedies, through bitterness, through selfishness, naivety and a need to
separate themselves from thinking about the things in life that might make them
feel something they can't control or understand. But even if it's gone, it is
still around. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In your neighbor.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In a stranger. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In far-away countries we’ll never visit or understand.<br />
<br />
We're a simple people easily, startled and easily swayed. Ask questions. If you
must fight, fight to make it better. Fight to educate our children and each
other. Fight against the urge to flee. Pick someone up when they are down.
There are a lot more people in this flawed world who want to be good and live
in peace than those who are evil and crave chaos.<br />
<br />
I'm thinking of my friends, my family, my students, their loved ones, and I'm
thinking of the energy radiating through Boston on Marathon Monday. I remember
how great it is and how many lives have been changed because of it. A lot of
people got hurt today ... a few even died. We don't know why and maybe we never
will. I do know that running that race raised hundreds of thousands of dollars
for strangers. Running that race changed the way hundreds of individuals viewed
fitness and their lifestyle choices. Running that race honored the victims of another
senseless American tragedy. There will be an asterisk next to Patriot Day and
Marathon Monday from here on out, but if we do our job correctly, that asterisk
will someday tell about the people whose lives changed for the better after a tragedy
that has, sadly, become all-too common.<br />
<br />
I really don't know if anything I wrote made sense. I do know when I started
writing I was very sad. I was very angry after that and in all the stupid
things I've done and been through in my life, one of the best things I've ever
learned is how to work through that. Anger is consuming ... find the other
side. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;">I'm finishing this post with hope for whomever reads this.
We're a terrible species capable of so much good. I believe it is time to
strive for that good rather than living in the shadows of the </span><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;">fear that
surrounds us.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #333333; line-height: 107%;"><i>Note: Thank you Kris Young, one of the quickest and most poignant young men I know, and Justin Schoenberger, one of the best writers I get to call a friend, for helping me post this.</i></span></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<b><br /></b>
Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-22255204649508698782013-04-01T19:19:00.000-04:002013-04-01T19:19:08.447-04:00Easter UpdatesThere is a whole bunch of stuff I hated below. I decided not to delete it so you can all bare witness to my self loathing when I write.Tell me that's not some shitty writing when you get there. You can't. It is.<br />
<br />
I wanted some sort of motivation to re-address and review the reasons I started this blog, but even that wasn't coming along so I thought about giving up. I have been thinking of effort a lot lately. Writing things like this doesn't take much effort, but it does take time and some consideration. Having the baby and keeping the house and the dog and spending time with Jenna takes plenty of effort, and a ton of time, but that doesn't really count because it doesn't feel like effort it's just what I do and I love it.<br />
<br />
What I've been thinking about is the effort it takes to truly grow and improve yourself. I've grown, continue to grow, learn something new every day when it comes to the baby girl and the love of my family, but, like I said all the effort that goes into that is effortless. I'm talking about getting better. I want to read. I want to write. I want to learn.<br />
<br />
I hope this isn't just a silly way I feel that doesn't make any sense. That is terrifying, knowing you're the only person know feels or even understands feeling a certain way. (Is everyone sorta scared of that? I'll assume yes.) I hope somewhere, even if it's deep down, everyone wants to better themselves, but everyone is burdened with everyday life or complacent or lazy or playing video games and never gets to it.<br />
<br />
I want to get to it. I want to make it happen, and this is all part of it. As proof I am currently writing this (point) and just finished eating vegetables with hummus (healthy point).<br />
<br />
Anyways, this thing is all over the place, as per usual. I'll just say, it's that time of year when more things are going on. The weather is changing, people are busy and excited for summer and it's the perfect time to make some changes. I'll be posting more and if I don't say mean things like, hey, you're a piece of shit. You said you were going to post more so you should. Don't be a liar, you have a kid, you're supposed to be a role model.<br />
<br />
Plus, it can't get much worse, am I right?<br />
<br />
Stay tuned.<br />
Check out Letterboxd, I enjoy that.<br />
<br />
I also sometimes live tweet what my friends are tweeting about on twitter, that's fun.<br />
<br />
Point.<br />
Less.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<strike>After a massively successful Easter I laid feeling absolutely terrible about what I had just ingested. </strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>At some point I think I started hallucinating. Then I had another hard boiled egg, a second piece of cake and started crying and realized I wanted to refocus a few things.</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>So, not only haven't I written nearly enough lately, but I feel a little professionally lost, so let me start there.</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike><b>PREFACE:</b> I absolutely love my job. I work in a constantly evolving office with phenomenal students and great co-workers... and here is the but. </strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<br />
<strike>So I've been thinking I need to start refocusing on my personal development.</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>A few of my friends professionally use Twitter and have really thrived professionally through it. I tried. It's way more fun to follow comedians and Life Tweet My Friends while they're tweeting about other things.</strike><br />
<strike><br /></strike>
<strike>I've been thinking of</strike>Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-22797361904649181502013-03-12T08:09:00.002-04:002013-03-12T08:09:08.962-04:00A Dad's Perspective<i>The following, blog world, is something I wrote for the other blog my wife and I made for our baby (we have a baby, you'll meet her below).<br /> </i><br />
<i>I wrote it for the blog, but it is more about me, so I moved it over here. There will be some overlap that I am telling myself I might go back and fix later, but in all honesty, this is probably what it will be. If you're reading this for the first time, you will have no idea if I changed anything or fixed anything, so all of this is ramble. If you're reading this at all, you know ramble is my specialty.</i><br />
<br />
<i>For your consideration: </i><br />
<br />
So as you can see from the following picture, Mabel is adorable.<br />
Today marks her two month mark. Eight and a half weeks of changing our lives and growing a little more each day.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTdw-jOuEn33H0RM4XxV2B-BfwWAgvsLvPb2vL9HXL8U566gWJ3I2tMHiUt6ZXKGFXE1hopmuKmobOv-5BL4Y8aGUZADvCA6i2kLAim2sMgtZ3RosIuu87PwuBQQNTKtNzPSX5hhhmeA/s1600/481282_10151362901408299_1855702250_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTdw-jOuEn33H0RM4XxV2B-BfwWAgvsLvPb2vL9HXL8U566gWJ3I2tMHiUt6ZXKGFXE1hopmuKmobOv-5BL4Y8aGUZADvCA6i2kLAim2sMgtZ3RosIuu87PwuBQQNTKtNzPSX5hhhmeA/s320/481282_10151362901408299_1855702250_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: MJC a badass little baby girl!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A lot of things have changed in the last month.
That's silly to say, really, since a lot of things change each day. From
the time she goes to bed in the night to getting up in the morning she
seems to have grown and changed and taken on a new character trait or a
whole new personality even cooler than the one before.<br />
<br />
Here are the most noteworthy changes of the last month:<br />
<br />
<ol>
<li>This girl is hilarious. She laughs and smiles and loves looking you right in the eyes.</li>
<li>She doesn't just like bath time, she violently loves it. Flailing
around, kicking her legs, flapping her arms and just being the cutest
little bean in town.</li>
<li>The girl can hold a helluva conversation. Tonight, particularly, she
just cooed back and squealed and yelled at us while we read to her on
her changing table. She is so alert and engaged and when we stop
talking, she stops and waits for us to chat back with her again.</li>
<li>Last, but certainly not least, is that she looks a lot like me.</li>
</ol>
<br />
<br />
That's what I'm going to talk a little bit about.<br />
<br />
The
role I've adopted as "daddy" is an interesting one. We are extremely,
beyond lucky, that Jenna is able to have Mabel with her all week long.
She works for an amazing family who lets her integrate Mabel into their
routine and their little boy Desmond into ours. Jenna keeps me up to
date with at least three or four pictures a day. In case it doesn't go
without saying I am a little jealous of all the time they get to spend
together, but even with such a great situation it isn't easy.<br />
<br />
I
am our of the house a little after 7 in the morning and typically don't
get home until sometime between 5 and 6. That gives me a minimal amount
of time while she is awake and even less with her annoyingly infant
like sleeping patterns (why can't you just do what we want you to do all
the time... that's okay, I'm sure you'll be a perfect little angel when
you're a teenager).<br />
<br />
So even with pictures throughout
the day, time together in the morning and evenings together, I still
feel like I miss a lot. Throughout all of this we still have our every
day housekeeping duties like eating, making sure we and our house don't
smell terrible, taking care of a dog, keeping up with our friends and
occasionally talking to each other. Jenna loves every second of being
with Mabel, but could use some time apart as well.<br />
<br />
It
is anything but simple and we are nowhere near having it all figured
out. She's growing and changing so quickly and we are just doing our
best to keep up. I think about how lucky we are, how great she is, and
how much love we have for her and I can't help it, I still miss her all
day and feel like I'm missing so much of her life.<br />
<br />
(Editor's
note: if you are reading this, happen to be independently wealthy, and
feel like sponsoring me and my family by serving as our benefactor, we
will gladly take all of your extra money, thank you.)<br />
<br />
So
back to where I started. I still think Mabel looks like Jenna. I can
see Jenna in her nose, in her cheeks, and in her smiles. I selfishly
felt like I was missing my daughters life, she wasn't going to know her
daddy at all (I realize this is all ridiculous) and that she was most
likely going to adore her mother and coldly call me father when I saw
her after work. Right when all of this was certainly about to become a
reality, Jenna took a picture of a picture of me as a baby.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmR278ee_qeu6Iqtixfbv4q_aNjCbGysvk9ovTZMWNNF6b8QTSG-UxFYNM-KXq6c9otmjWC7lCQZsDGLCygFt8pXap6Viow-hr-u6XOSNc68Sl4N9eGwvDXRj4EMlcphFR7FBesJmnEX8/s1600/548846_10151325019193299_1007732107_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmR278ee_qeu6Iqtixfbv4q_aNjCbGysvk9ovTZMWNNF6b8QTSG-UxFYNM-KXq6c9otmjWC7lCQZsDGLCygFt8pXap6Viow-hr-u6XOSNc68Sl4N9eGwvDXRj4EMlcphFR7FBesJmnEX8/s200/548846_10151325019193299_1007732107_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">MJC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_m9cJrhp64xvgjw-laUC1bLW5WVhc_hrIqVtNQwRWnjH73_e4wAsquPi02hGujTq1uTAezWYWC1z3CL02A0SsY8vyIGcr8vcee20LRTjtecTLqgCAmjlprCqD-5iI6Tu0hG21u6r4FQ/s1600/529867_10151349179963299_621827538_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_m9cJrhp64xvgjw-laUC1bLW5WVhc_hrIqVtNQwRWnjH73_e4wAsquPi02hGujTq1uTAezWYWC1z3CL02A0SsY8vyIGcr8vcee20LRTjtecTLqgCAmjlprCqD-5iI6Tu0hG21u6r4FQ/s200/529867_10151349179963299_621827538_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">TRC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So we're not identical, but we sure do
look alike. I'm not very good at things like this. Unless it is
identical or blatantly obvious I don't see family resemblances very
easily. I certainly didn't see it with Mabel and me. Not until I looked
at these pictures next to each other. All of the stupidity I described
above melted away. We look too much alike not to have any sort of
connection and it's not like I'm going anywhere. She's destined to
listen to my terrible story telling, obnoxious jokes, and ridiculous
analogies. I'm destined to explain things to her on a level I can barely
understand, much less a small child. (Dad doesn't play things down for
nobody!)<br />
<br />
In general, watching this little girl grow up
so quickly is surreal. It's an unbelievable chain of events that you
can't control. That makes it scary. It makes you think and feel things
that aren't normal, rational or even good for you. Knowing this isn't
going to make it any easier. It's not going to make me any less jealous,
not going to make her grow up any slower, and it's not going to make
any of this seem more normal or controllable. So you have to take it for
what it is. It's perfect. It's the cliche and it's the small things.
Mabel looking like her daddy in an old picture. A dinner with Jenna at
the dining room table while she takes a quick nap. Leaving work ten
minutes early to pick her up from Jenna when she works late. Some daddy
Mabel time and the first smile when she wakes up in the morning. And
just knowing that we have years and years with her beyond this and
beyond the next thousand changes she'll go through this week... we'll
figure it out. And it'll be worth it. Completely worth every second of
it.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-37859087586918058122012-11-22T11:12:00.001-05:002012-11-22T11:12:49.079-05:00The Edge of 17... errr... 30Just like a white winged dove sings a song it sounds like singing wooo baby woo. woo.<br />
<br />
(Surprisingly close to the correct lyrics. Thank you Stevie Nicks for your appropriate segue into my 30th year.)<br />
<br />
So I started writing this blog, which I continued to do spottily at best. The last time I submitted something for your consideration it was regarding my 4th anniversary, which was in August.... buuuuuut to be fair and in my defense, I also spent a bunch of time writing for <a href="http://kickjames.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Kick James</a> and for <a href="http://littlebabychew.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Little Baby Chew</a>, both of which I will comment on in a little bit.<br />
<br />
So I started writing this blog three days after I turned 29 years old.<br />
I started writing as a motivation to do the things I always said I wanted to do, but didn't set aside the time for. In retrospect I think I looked at the last year of my 20's as an opportunity to frantically accomplish all the things I wouldn't be able to accomplish when I was too old. AKA 30. Oh one year ago Tom Chew, you were one dumb son of a gun. When you take into account the list I made myself to accomplish and how my year actually went it's pretty hilarious. To me at least, but in general I think I'm really funny.<br />
<br />
Hopes for year 29, from the first post of this blog:<br />
<br />
<b>Brewing </b>So I brewed a few batches of beer with my buddy Brian and they turned out pretty alright. I still have a bunch of brewing equipment in my basement, where it goes unused and Brian still brews regularly. I'm glad I did it and I'm glad I have a better understanding of how the beer I enjoy oh so much is made. I'll most likely come back to this one randomly.<br />
<b>Get in shape</b> I'm no Paul Ryan or anything, but compared to where I was at a year ago, I'd say it worked out. A few friends and I started a little weight loss competition that lasted two months and I lost over 20 pounds and worked out much more regularly throughout the year. In now way has it been perfect and I have definitely gone up and done and been in and out of it, but overall I eat better. I move more. I feel better. I can do 1 million push ups and I don't wear a blindfold in the shower anymore to hide my shame. (Now I wear a blindfold in the shower to challenge myself. I have not been completely clean and my shaving has been remarkably shoddy for months. I smell terrible.)<br />
<b>Fighting </b>I didn't get into any fights, but I think I could totally take you.<br />
<b>Podcasting </b>This just didn't happen. I also had a fantastic idea for a documentary I'm going to get on top of sometime. Long shot, but I'm also hoping to write or direct one of the new Star Wars movies.<br />
<b>Writing </b>Like I said, I didn't write a blog post every week like I wanted to, but I did continuously contribute to three blogs and I'm proud of some of the things I got down on internet paper. I was just reading over a few of the old blogs and they made me happy and smile.<br />
<br />
<b>Favorites maybe you'd like to go back and read </b><br />
<b>(or you could spend the next week at work reviewing our year together)</b>:<br />
<a href="http://tomchewis29.blogspot.com/2011/12/why-your-mid-to-late-twenties-suck-and.html" target="_blank">Why Your Mid to Late Twenties Suck and Are Awesome </a><br />
<a href="http://tomchewis29.blogspot.com/2011/12/buffalo-bills-are-amazing-for-all-wrong.html" target="_blank">The Buffalo Bills are Amazing For All the Wrong Reasons</a><br />
<a href="http://tomchewis29.blogspot.com/2012/01/parson-brown-infuriates-me.html" target="_blank">Parson Brown Infuriates Me</a> (this one isn't for everyone, but it should be)<br />
<br />
In general I wanted to talk about all the cool shit I think is cool and the zany misadventures I think I get into (I don't).<br />
<br />
So here it is. It has been a year and oh what a year it has been. I wanted to actively live my 29th year and I honestly can't believe it is over. I intermittently thought about it throughout the year and I went back and forth on whether I was happy with how it went or not, but that was absolutely ridiculously stupid because the last year of my life has been fucking amazing.<br />
<br />
I have little to no concept of time, so the following might not be in any sort of true or honest time line, but it all happened and it all has been amazing.<br />
<br />
The first couple months were consumed with the idea of this blog and living actively. I got less fat, I gained energy, I decided to be a better me. In all honesty, I don't think I could have accomplished nearly as much this year without starting the year with that mindset. I've been happier. I've been better. I've been so much taller, it's amazing!<br />
<br />
This way of thinking made me better at my job. I'm not perfect and I get apathetic sometimes, just like everyone else (right?), but I know my students need the best me and I try to give that to them. I know how easy it is to take those years for granted, believe me I wasted a lot of great moments, but I didn't have someone trying to help me see these things, or if I did they weren't loud enough to overcome my drunken yelling and big hair and black Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt.<br />
<br />
We bought a freaking house! And it's a great house. We saved, we skimped, we worked really hard and with the help of some of the amazing people around us (thank you Jesse and Sandy and Fordy and Tim and everyone else who went above and beyond to help us make this our home!) we bought a house that is warm and welcoming and inviting and beautiful. Jenna has been amazing at making it ours and a home we are so proud of. The new couch on the third floor is one of the last big pieces of the puzzle unless someone wants to give us 20 grand to put an addition on the back, because we will take it!<br />
<br />
My favorite room has to be the nursery. Oh you didn't know, I don't talk about it enough, you haven't seen Jenna, you haven't read <a href="http://kickjames.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">the other blog</a>, no not that one, but you should it's funny,<a href="http://littlebabychew.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"> this one, the important one</a> my beautiful wife and I have tried to share with everyone we love.<br />
<br />
We are having a Chew! When you think of living your life actively, nothing puts your life into perspective more than the fact that you are not nearly the most important thing to live for. Mabel Jayne could be with us any time and that is both terrifying and the happiest thing I have ever read. I look at Jenna and smile. I feel her tumbling around her momma's belly/uterus and it changes me a little more every time. You think you know love or responsibility or fear or commitment or anxiety or joy or utter amazement? Well then you must have either been to Tibet, have a baby, or have one on the way!<br />
<br />
I've written, probably exhaustively (I know because they all tell me they fall asleep while reading it), about the friends I've made or kept in my life. I've written about Rochester and how she has opened her arms and hear to us. I've written about the changing dynamics of family and friendship and all the different ways love and life effect our every day and alter our perspectives on existence.<br />
<br />
<b>Author's Note</b>: <i>I'm not sure if I've ever actually written about the last sentence you read, but if I didn't I think I should. That sounds like blog gold! That stuff is right up my alley and is such a big part of growing up and living your life. I really can't remember writing it, so let me know if I did... and if I did I hope it was prophetic and helped change your life and you, my loyal reader, are a better person because of it. But if I didn't, then I just put a lot of pressure on myself to write a blog post equivalent to the song Bill and Ted are destined to write that changes the future and leads to their Excellent Adventure and Bogus Journey. So if you read this and I haven't written that, or you'd like to read that, and you see me around give me a friendly reminder to change the world. I'm sure I'll get around to it at some point on my own, but until then, thanks for the reminder</i><br />
<br />
Our families and our friends who have become our family are so ingrained in our lives that one of my biggest concerns with the growing family and the growing up is how to balance all of it. I spend so much time thinking about Mabel and Jenna and all the exciting things we'll accomplish together and teach each other that these side thoughts have sometimes turned to worries, but recently, while reflecting, I've realized that it doesn't matter and I need to stop worrying in general. I am a bit of a quiet worrier, but look at our life. Look at your life. We are who we are because of the choices we've made and the decisions to do this rather than that and because of the people we choose to surround ourselves with. Our lives should make us better people, and if they aren't then we only have ourselves to blame.<br />
<br />
Life is work. Life is hard. Life can be sad.<br />
<br />
But life is fun.<br />
<br />
Living presently and consciously isn't always easy. It can force us to confront uncomfortable situations or answer hard questions. We face hard truths and persevere (that word is incredibly difficult to spell) through harsh realities that can either become a blip or the catalyst to becoming better people. I've said it before, but I think it is important to push yourself to learn life lessons every day. Sometimes I'm a dick. Sometimes I think I'm funny when I'm not. I still crave attention and want to be a part of everything. I know I can't do those things anymore and as soon as I'm a dick I typically realize it and try to stop or make up for it. I know it doesn't always work. I know when I'm not funny it isn't my fault, it's definitely my audience who doesn't get it and they need to start asking themselves those hard questions. Just kidding... see there we go, that wasn't funny and I accept that.<br />
<br />
We all have our reasons and motivation for doing what we do when we do it. It would be easy to say my daughter or my family were my motivation, and in a lot of ways they are, but we still have to live our own lives just like Mabel will have to learn how to live hers and learn her lessons. I live this life for me. I hope unselfishly. I want to be a better person and live a better life so I can help my daughter and my nieces and my nephew and my parents and wife and brothers and sisters and friends and everyone I come across live a better life as well. It isn't hard. You just need to want it and take responsibility for it. Beyond speculation we only know for sure that we get one chance. Within the grand scheme of that one chance we make a billion choices and each day is a chance within a chance to live, let live, or let life pass you by.<br />
<br />
I'll be thirty years old in four days. I feel and believe that I am better for the life I've lived over the last 51 weeks. I hope, if you're reading this, that I have made you smile. I hope you go to bed happy more often than you don't. I hope the people around you appreciate and respect you. If any of these things aren't true in your life, I hope you know I'm here for you and that I'm happy to help any way I can.<br />
<br />
If you are reading this I probably have some sort of love for you. Thank you. thank you for helping me become me and throughout all my many flaws, thank you for helping me want to be a better man and live a good life. Thank you for your love. Thank you for your trust. Thank you for your truth. Thank you for being a part of my first thirty years.<br />
<br />
Cheers to the next thirty. I hope we're a part of each others lives and we bring each other a million more moments filled with love and smiles and hugs.<br />
<br />
Happy Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-57968342620783381962012-08-16T09:41:00.002-04:002012-08-16T10:12:19.033-04:00It's been a while (4th Anniversary Edition)So <strike>three</strike> a few of you took notice that, though what I wrote at the beginning of this blog was pure genius, I have been less than consistent in my blogging.<br />
<br />
I blame a few things, which will serve as updates to my life.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
1 - I bought a house, which leaves a man pretty occupied. </div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO61WDUmhrXyRRT7ulEM0rKiE_EJr739Sls6MbKnTKFwbw3H017TD0i81d-Jwrz4koKX96pjBB21hdErvZg-9WSHsqI7w5FmGsooQm3uSjwrW7-6NUzpHhiyqLt8ah2CKz18SXu3DFkApK/s1600/528040_10150915707378299_28846436_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO61WDUmhrXyRRT7ulEM0rKiE_EJr739Sls6MbKnTKFwbw3H017TD0i81d-Jwrz4koKX96pjBB21hdErvZg-9WSHsqI7w5FmGsooQm3uSjwrW7-6NUzpHhiyqLt8ah2CKz18SXu3DFkApK/s320/528040_10150915707378299_28846436_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A garden like that doesn't garden itself</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
2 - I played a whole lot of kickball (or did it play me... no I played it. The other way doesn't make any sense). Which I also dedicated some blogging time to <a href="http://kickjames.blogspot.com/">http://kickjames.blogspot.com/</a> if you want to hear all about the season.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBhlXYMFD_8UJVsPba0G3docPuuc6us8rKfkI_X2nbxVOrpGbieAfPWLkdFNsKL7gBkcgXS_KIUo40bMFfO-b5ts1p26DPDyCdVrcOOlOuZ8CFK4KE6zYo4TMXswAiwU4Kxc8Jyw55-wl/s1600/101_3635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYBhlXYMFD_8UJVsPba0G3docPuuc6us8rKfkI_X2nbxVOrpGbieAfPWLkdFNsKL7gBkcgXS_KIUo40bMFfO-b5ts1p26DPDyCdVrcOOlOuZ8CFK4KE6zYo4TMXswAiwU4Kxc8Jyw55-wl/s320/101_3635.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture should be Instagrammed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
3 - My wife and I found out we are having a baby. This also took some blogging time away, though not as much as it should. Those thoughts can be found, with the help of my beautiful Jenna at <a href="http://littlebabychew.blogspot.com/">http://littlebabychew.blogspot.com/</a></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<br /></div>
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
So, I can hear you asking, <em>why now Thomas? Why are you coming back to us? What has happened in your life for this re-emergence into your writing endeavors?</em> I'll tell you.<br />
<br />
If you've followed the life and times of Thomas Chew at all, you know I am married to a lovely little lady named Jenna. Today happens to be our fourth wedding anniversary. On August 16, 2008, we gathered in Weston's Mill's at her mother's old house on a gorgeous day to celebrate our lives together. It really was a gorgeous day. It was sunny, but not too hot, bright, but not blinding, there was a breeze that made the air smell good. There were butterflies for god's sake.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTkQ9dErd34gKsez6NwWovSziqmrEm06mXqxkJByqIbrH3lOlVlqPETbHNCJb4NuCoJJdMoeWBbsOn26jn39eMhnkaeOSQiqpx7C_pjWkcPljQBJJ1hOh775rdIWSuP29rRMUjGVSu3ey/s1600/331_591163256986_1020_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTTkQ9dErd34gKsez6NwWovSziqmrEm06mXqxkJByqIbrH3lOlVlqPETbHNCJb4NuCoJJdMoeWBbsOn26jn39eMhnkaeOSQiqpx7C_pjWkcPljQBJJ1hOh775rdIWSuP29rRMUjGVSu3ey/s320/331_591163256986_1020_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterflies I tell ya!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I've been thinking a lot about the last four years, which made me start thinking about this whole 29 thing again. I wanted things to be put into perspective, but I'm starting ot think there just isn't any perspective to be had. I'm going to keep getting older. We all are. We're going to watch cool shows, terrible movies, travel to strange, exotic, boring, fascinating, scary, relaxing places. We're going to make mistakes. We're going to learn. We're going to love. Ideally there will be a significant amount of hugging involved.<br />
<br />
Through all of this, and in retrospect of the last eight months and the last four years, I am absolutely lucky to say that Jenna has made me better. I haven't always been a perfect husband, nor she a wife. But that's because we're people and people are inherantly flawed. What makes us a great couple (in my opinion), and what has moved us forward and helped us along throughout our relationship is our willingness to be together. We fight until a fight is over. We discuss until all the details are on the table. We call each other out when it needs to be done. Jenna and I are completely different people than we were four years ago and thank christ.<br />
<br />
We're growing up. It's scary. Buying a house was scary. Deciding we wanted to have kids was scary. Getting married four years ago was scary. It would have been really easy to say, nope, let's just keep having fun and see what happens down the line. We didn't do that. We took that challenge and it has not been easy. To be honest it hasn't always been fun. Sometimes it has sucked. <br />
<br />
Then, four days later I don't even remember what sucked so much, I get to look into the eyes of the woman who has positively changed me and has been such a unique and loving influence on my life and say that she is my wife. To know that the next time something amazing happens to me, she will be the first one I tell. To know the next time I am being an assbag about something, she is going to be the one to tell me. The next time I'm not being the person I want to be, she will help me find my way and love me throughout it all. The one who is holding my hand when I wake up. The one who tells me I need to brush my teeth in the morning so I can lay in bed and talk to her without my ass breath ruining everything. <br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0yAOg4nBCmXHiZKGDxc-MPIiQOPfECj9JQHyPfe5TOPLdg2vS5KZ4_xoXw6D_serOK5qYgEKUH2IucHEDOXgdSKgiFHYZc2lWhls4i1LqwfxwbPv9BQsn5zqaxd4JYtSm6sita9ffjKA/s1600/2264_50977083748_6245_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0yAOg4nBCmXHiZKGDxc-MPIiQOPfECj9JQHyPfe5TOPLdg2vS5KZ4_xoXw6D_serOK5qYgEKUH2IucHEDOXgdSKgiFHYZc2lWhls4i1LqwfxwbPv9BQsn5zqaxd4JYtSm6sita9ffjKA/s320/2264_50977083748_6245_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I still smile every time I play with my ring.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I know I have influenced Jenna. I hope it has been for the better. I know I want to do for her all that she has done for me and more (so I can win a challenge of who has done more for the other... just kidding). This year of living my life actively. Embracing 29. Trying new things (bone marrow was phenomenally tasty), and being a conscious objector to letting life pass me by has been successful so far. I can do more. I can always do more. I can try harder. I can always try harder. None of it would matter without her. I tried to imagine it this morning and just the thought made me sad. More importantly, I couldn't do it. I have a fantastic imagination for a 29 year old dude, and I couldn't do it. I didn't want to. My life is too amazing with and because of her to want anything else.<br />
<br />
Being thankful is part of living ones life actively, so I want to thank my wife, Jenna Lyn Butterbaugh, for loving me, letting me love you, and for making me a better person every single day.<br />
<br />
Happy Anniversary love!</div>
Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-37985340826422794752012-03-03T09:40:00.000-05:002012-03-03T09:40:00.695-05:00Remember the Ice Breakers you hated in college... I loved them!In the summer of 2001 I attended orientation at St. Bonaventure University.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJZ7tnaHti8ow7_21fq7borIa0FUUyjM3s0NeKAOBlNflz2ZwkZ6ROwh5fueuv4esFo233Td6WiT37Zr2E9rL624ThGZOstlBPmktg7rj_2b2KCNU8sLEVlxU9qL-c0qHAuT2IX4_H8rP/s1600/weezer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkJZ7tnaHti8ow7_21fq7borIa0FUUyjM3s0NeKAOBlNflz2ZwkZ6ROwh5fueuv4esFo233Td6WiT37Zr2E9rL624ThGZOstlBPmktg7rj_2b2KCNU8sLEVlxU9qL-c0qHAuT2IX4_H8rP/s1600/weezer.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Teen Defiance </td></tr>
</tbody></table>I wore a white t-shirt my friend Dustin made me with the Weezer =w= on it.<br />
<br />
I did not want to be there. <br />
<br />
I grew up around Bonaventure and I wanted to get the hell out. I was too cool. I was meant for the big city. I was going to lawyer everyone about everything constantly.<br />
<br />
My orientation leader was named Kara and she did a fine job, but in my teenage angst in homemade t-shirt, I was not into it.<br />
<br />
Flash forward one summer. I was an orientation leader.<br />
<br />
Flash forward six months. I was named Orientation Coordinator and I was charged with helping hire my new supervisor. I thought it was awesome. I was excited to be a part of it and thought I was so cool for having my position and being so important to the very fabric of Bona's.<br />
<br />
(Author's note: I really thought too much of myself back in the day. I know this. For all the good I tried to do, I know I must have driven people crazy. I know sometimes I still do. Working on it (...))<br />
<br />
I had no idea at the tender age of 20 that through that interview I would meet one of the most influential and supportive people of my life and my aspirations of lawyerin' the law out of everyone would float gracefully in a drunken waddle out the window.<br />
<br />
Flash forward a couple months. Spencer and I checked in at the Seattle Hyatt for the Annual National Orientation Directors Association Conference. He had started the job less than a month beforehand. He had never worked in orientation and from his first day on campus he told me, "you teach me about the program, and I'll do my best to learn it."<br />
<br />
There were a few hundred people at the conference, but in my mind it was thousands. Everyone was nicer than the person before them (Except for one lady the first night that had the gall to ask what I was doing drinking at the President's social when I wasn't even 21 and I wasn't a professional staff member... that bitch!). The second day of the conference I turned to Spencer, wide eyed and ecstatic himself, and I pronounced my plans for life.<br />
<br />
"This is it," I said, "this is what I'm going to do for the rest of my life."<br />
<br />
It was all over. I had had my epiphany. <br />
<br />
Flash forward six months. Saratoga Springs, NY. NODA Region IX Conference. Spencer and I had met so many people in Seattle and so many of them were in Saratoga. We were celebrities. We were a part of it... I was enrolled in a program called ROLI. It was the second year of the program and I was in a group led by a man named Aurelio. My stiffest competition (for attention) was a kid called JoeGuy. I was intimidated by his confidence, so I threw myself into becoming his friend. I had lunch with a woman named Robin who was, still to this day, the nicest person I've ever met in my life. The type of person everyone wanted to be around. The type of person that inspires people by saying hello. The type of person I thought I was, but really was eons away from and still hope to become. <br />
<br />
I didn't know at the time that Aurelio was the founder of ROLI. I didn't know he would eventually hire me as his Graduate Fellow and start my career.<br />
<br />
I didn't know that Robin was the Vice-President of NODA, a nation wide organization with thousands of people. That lunch led to her reaching out to me the next year to offer me a column in her, <i>From the NODA Vice-President</i>. Apparently being published in a national review at 21is a big deal. I was just doing a favor for a lady who inspired me over terrible hotel food.<br />
<br />
<br />
I know this is probably a boring story for you if you're still reading. I understand for those who gave up already (my throngs of readers are fickle at best).<br />
<br />
I'm sitting in the back of a room in Burlington, Vermont. The Assistant Dean of Students at Cornell University is giving a great presentation to 40 students during the morning session of the second day of ROLI. I'm in the last four hours of my two year appointment as Co-Coordinator of the program. <br />
<br />
Spencer is four feet to my left. I brought him in as one of my mentors for the new students. JoeGuy is four feet in front of me. I brought him in as one of my faculty members. He gave our opening session on a ROLI alumni's perspective, utilizing the program to enhance you're position and future. I smiled throughout the presentation and started writing this blog in my head.<br />
<br />
I have been a part of NODA for 9 years. I have been a ROLI student, faculty member, mentor, and no coordinator. I have been to 7 regional and 4 national conferences. In our opening ice breaker everyone had to introduce themselves and share one word that described how they were feeling. Joe went right before me and and used the word I had been planning on using through the other 48 people.<br />
<br />
Reflective.<br />
<br />
I've always known, but I've never truly acknowledged how influential this has been for me. I have grown up, both literally and figuratively, through this organization and through these people.<br />
<br />
This will be my last NODA conference for the foreseeable future. I don't work in orientation anymore and I'm happy to be where I am. But reflecting on my time here and with these people, I am filled with gratitude and I am humbled.<br />
<br />
The kid in the homemade Weezer t-shirt was terrified to be humbled. He expressed his gratitude, because that was what he was supposed to do and people would like him more for it. The kid who hated his orientation never would have guessed that he would be where I am. It isn't big enough. It isn't flashy enough. I don't get attention. I don't get credit. The limelight is extinguished.<br />
<br />
That kid was a fucking idiot.<br />
<br />
For all the good things I've tried to do throughout my life, I know I've done harm, I've done wrong, and I've done things poorly.<br />
<br />
The first time I acknowledged that I was 21 years old. I had a panic attack one night. I was alone in my bedroom. I called my dad at 4am, a man I had rarely spoken with personally. He got me through the next few hours, which got me through the next few days. I hadn't slept, gone to class, answered my phone, or eaten in four days when I went to Spencer who made fun of me for looking like shit and then asking what I needed. He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't ask what happened. He asked how he could help.<br />
<br />
I spent two days on his couch watching movies. Spending time away from the place I loved where everyone knew me. Where I was important. Where I was so involved that the President of the University had my cell phone number and I cut the ribbon of the new athletic facility, and had the second biggest office on campus. Where I was sad, lonely, and miserable.<br />
<br />
That kid walked into a Seattle hotel on a rainy October day and he fell in love with an idea. He spent the next three years feverishly chasing that idea by embracing everyone. Yes, I'll help. Yes, I'll lead that group. Yes, I'll run for this. Yes, I'll drink that. Yes, I have plenty of time, I can do anything.<br />
<br />
That kid was an idiot, but he wasn't dumb. I know, now, at this point in my life, that if it weren't for the ambition I had as a teenager I never would have put myself in that position to break down. I needed to be broken and I needed to learn those lessons. Just like you need to fall in love. Just like you need to be heart broken. Just like you need to be humiliated and triumph and shine and fall and you need to live life. I was so scared that everyone would figure me out. I had it all together and everyone knew I was that guy.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be that guy anymore. I just want to be happy. I just want to make my wife happy, be with my friends and the people I love and sincerely try to help the students I work for.<br />
<br />
I see myself in all these students. The good parts and the bad. I hope they find a Spencer. I hope they find someone who will challenge them, call them out, and support them unconditionally.<br />
<br />
I lost the focus of this rambling a while ago, because my heart is pounding and I'm awkwardly smiling while I type. I am so happy and so lucky to have had the opportunities I have been given. Even the ones I squandered and the missions I failed miserably. I'm actually more thankful for those, because without those, without Spencer, without the kids I'm looking at and the mentors I'm working with and the inspired students I'm watching grow by the minute.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6JpXOROM2GRvEc_7gGhdAqES08INNRQ87j_7pWXJCyRLG_P1HfciE4yeSMIx05b_AETqDRa2tTXTOrLw40w0v0HJQubRTBFa9K7XGfGEMI9gTFAQqEqASvR6Uph3peiE_FPm27xZQJOP/s1600/205590_1040362162485_1028474285_130228_7173_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6JpXOROM2GRvEc_7gGhdAqES08INNRQ87j_7pWXJCyRLG_P1HfciE4yeSMIx05b_AETqDRa2tTXTOrLw40w0v0HJQubRTBFa9K7XGfGEMI9gTFAQqEqASvR6Uph3peiE_FPm27xZQJOP/s200/205590_1040362162485_1028474285_130228_7173_n.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd still be that guy. Fun... not effective.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Without all these things I never would have found myself. I would probably be either a lawyer making a shit ton of money. Going home to an empty apartment with a gigantic bank account and an even bigger drinking problem. Either that or I'd be in a gutter. I'd have ridden it until it broke and then broken down with it. I know that about myself. It is what I feared most of my life, but wasn't strong enough to acknowledge until it started happening. Then, only by the grace of goodness, was I picked up and sent to Rixford, PA to sit on a couch and play with a chocolate lab.<br />
<br />
Without those things I would never be here, never have my life, my wife, my friends, my family and I certainly wouldn't be proud of who I am. When I was living that life I wasn't proud of who I was, but I am now. The good, the bad, the shameful, the glory, the bullshit. It was all worth it... just so I never have to live through it again.<br />
<br />
This is my very long, very arduous thank you to orientation. For what it has taught me. The lessons I've learned, the people I've met, the places it has taken me, and, most of all, for humbling a little shit in a homemade t-shirt.<br />
<br />
I wish I still had that t-shirt.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-84806463704777581732012-02-13T15:58:00.000-05:002012-02-13T15:58:02.212-05:00Paul Goodman Changed My Weekend<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurjWdoaFsZhWubIcPXCzvU9tGR36nDim6faPimnNY5gm3pcVFq7mZGrhTfhmHD1yGme5-jsM5q0rZh6z-4Se1WA3rtW07do5U-byMMLb8X0yUtmB-vtA75UcjChZpRefwIC3gl4WY63Cd/s1600/paul_goodman_changed_my_life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhurjWdoaFsZhWubIcPXCzvU9tGR36nDim6faPimnNY5gm3pcVFq7mZGrhTfhmHD1yGme5-jsM5q0rZh6z-4Se1WA3rtW07do5U-byMMLb8X0yUtmB-vtA75UcjChZpRefwIC3gl4WY63Cd/s320/paul_goodman_changed_my_life.jpg" width="215" /></a></div> Friday night Jenna and I went to the Eastman Theatre (I am spelling theater with the "re" rather than the "er" to show how classy that joint is) to watch a documentary for one of her classes. The documentary:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.paulgoodmanfilm.com/paul-goodman/biography#.Tzlh7jQiAkk.blogger">Paul Goodman Changed My Life — A film by Jonathan Lee</a><br />
<br />
Was really good. I'm guessing most of you have never heard of Paul Goodman. I hadn't. I had heard of the Psychotherapy model he helped invent and develop. I had heard of countless individuals he helped influence. I had heard so much about the movement he was crucial in defining, but never about him.<br />
<br />
One of the signs called him the most influential man you've never heard of and I can see why.<br />
<br />
In the late 20's and early 30's Goodman was the definition of a radical. He was a Jewish family man, poet, writer, anarchist, bisexual, pacifist, rabble rouser. I won't go into his whole story, but if you have time to read a few things about him or go see the movie at the Eastman, it's worth it.<br />
<br />
So, to the point Thomas! A lot of what I've written and the reason I have written it was because I wanted to live my life more actively and be aware of the world around me. I'm having a shitty day today, but overall, I think I'm doing that significantly better than I was 2 months ago. That is exactly what Goodman wrote about.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmKIsIN60NyO4mSTRMeudSrGhwyKp2c3o2o2UnZ-ZXlMVfSpHjueJPr2cjrJj0kTCKzzOMfvXHmjB1RVVUmJLDH-mND3FXCEXQjbR7AtOhLXHxQApP_Of4IaQoqCtDRgilen33J8PtByf/s1600/cry-baby-clan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRmKIsIN60NyO4mSTRMeudSrGhwyKp2c3o2o2UnZ-ZXlMVfSpHjueJPr2cjrJj0kTCKzzOMfvXHmjB1RVVUmJLDH-mND3FXCEXQjbR7AtOhLXHxQApP_Of4IaQoqCtDRgilen33J8PtByf/s1600/cry-baby-clan.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Neither John Hughes, nor Johnny Depp would <br />
ever lie about juvenile delinquency.<br />
Ricki Lake on the other hand made a career out of it.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Paul Goodman recognized a lost frustration in the youth of 20's and 30's. He wrote about and for what people called Juvenile Delinquents. The post war / changing world left many young men without a purpose, a goal, or an individualistic path. So they found strength and purpose in unity. Dancing street gangs started popping up all over town. He challenged them to recognize and combat their situation by bettering themselves and their world. Question the system and use your power for good.<br />
<br />
What really hit me was how Goodman constantly challenged himself and those around them to think about how they think, what they do, why they do it, and the reasons behind them. His thought were logical. His ideas were revolutionary. His approach was unorthodox. He was basically a freak of a man with an amazing mind that was well ahead of his time, but too vain to last long. <br />
<br />
Like everything else, the movie and the night got me thinking. I made the decision to buckle down on my personal<strike>... the only word I can think of is... </strike>academic<strike>, but I don't think it's really what it is</strike> goals. I don't want to waste as much time is what I'm saying, and I want to challenge myself and not get lazy and complacent. Yes, I realize reciting facts from a Cracked.com article is not a brilliant feet (but I am good at it!). <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEeD4Rc8WrJl01NIWiPHcI4F1-SAjnz4rWb6uYLn_ZSqhbQbkGVrIsC2o7q4c2_ajJeO7QUWu7LJm7dErpSqqmmAXMdvHHWPYp6mR-2lljRpUanFFL63kHVWSDkchT5GyhoQUs2d4fw9w/s1600/teenwolf_l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivEeD4Rc8WrJl01NIWiPHcI4F1-SAjnz4rWb6uYLn_ZSqhbQbkGVrIsC2o7q4c2_ajJeO7QUWu7LJm7dErpSqqmmAXMdvHHWPYp6mR-2lljRpUanFFL63kHVWSDkchT5GyhoQUs2d4fw9w/s320/teenwolf_l.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Art. 80's Bateman style!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I am the kind of guy who thinks too much about everything. Who tries to find the message behind old episodes of Dawson's Creek. Find the art or genius in a Bugs Bunny cartoon or random terrible Indie movie or teen comedy. I don't see television as a waste of time, because a lot of the time I can really get something out of it, even if it's just random pop culture trivia. At least that's what I tell myself. Truth be told, Son's of Anarchy is just a really cool show. It's not going to change my life (I mean, it's not Lost). The reason for this rant is that TV and movies are fun and I love them, but for me they are the easy way out.<br />
<br />
I have been saying I want to read. I want to be productive. I want to do this and this and this and this and no where on those lists were getting caught up with the second season of Boardwalk Empire.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>Note to self: Get caught up with the second season of Boardwalk Empire.</i></span><br />
<br />
In all honesty I've done a lot of that. I've been gymming. I feel pretty great. I have been eating way better. I gave up on The Governor because it was just pretty bad. I started reading Game of Thrones and it is awesome. I have pretty much kept up with my blog (give or take/thanks for those of you who responded last week. According to my poll, 6 people have read my blog almost 1000 times). I've done a lot of it, but I'm still not doing as much as I want.<br />
<br />
Break down of stuff on my mind right this instant.<br />
<br />
We're trying to buy a house.<br />
Kickball starts in April.<br />
I'm a really adequate bartender and I'm having a ton of fun doing it.<br />
My job has been driving me crazy and making me do a ton of shit, but I'm really good at it.<br />
I have friends I look up to.<br />
My wife is smarter and more motivated than I am (which is saying a ton, because I think I am really really smart, just ask me, I'll tell you!)<br />
<br />
I have a ton going for me. Some would say I am blessed.<br />
I would say... whoa whoa whoa... blessed seems a little strong of a statement.<br />
When they insisted, I would say, alright, I'm blessed. Then I would anoint the shit out of everything.<br />
Others would just say I'm lucky.<br />
Some would say, he worked hard and he's gotten to where he is. (Truth: Never really worked that hard, I just sweat a lot at weird times and people assume the best of me because of my non confrontationally chubby cheeks). <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_z2a3Db4d2GrGR-8X19mBHw1p7Bh4BJh7DxbUz98A9T2I8h5rbXVlsHyPqEB0MeGmoqb_zTlKInQetMj_iKe0deniC8JTLQBSyMKDfJSyYQNWh7vYIVn36uNcFSr_cTikFJJb320tdto/s1600/Game-of-Thrones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR_z2a3Db4d2GrGR-8X19mBHw1p7Bh4BJh7DxbUz98A9T2I8h5rbXVlsHyPqEB0MeGmoqb_zTlKInQetMj_iKe0deniC8JTLQBSyMKDfJSyYQNWh7vYIVn36uNcFSr_cTikFJJb320tdto/s320/Game-of-Thrones.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spoiler Alert: Your mind will be blown!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So I am giving myself a goal. I want to read for at least two hours a day. 2 hours is a completely arbitrary amount of time, but on random nights when Jenna is at class or doing work, instead of being destroyed by 11 year olds who are better at video games than I am, or watching Netflix movies, I want to get some solid reading in. Doesn't mean I can't do both, but once I start with the TV or video games, it's hard to stop, so books come first. It helps that I am reading Game of Thrones, based on a show I've already watched, but the book is way better.<br />
<br />
So this blog entry could have been really good, but I don't think it was. Like I said, I'm having a shitty day and I think I'm off. Also, the dichotomy of feelings toward Parson Brown really threw me off my game. I haven't even made a joke mocking one of my best friends all week. I guess my mind just isn't all there right now. Maybe this post will put an end to my creative impotence. Then I won't be surly and bitter towards the world like an accountant. That way, besides marrying way way way beyond my means, I won't end up like Peter. Oooh, there it is! Peter burn! He doesn't even read the blog, but his wife does!<br />
<br />
(Surly, bitter, accountantish and creatively impotent were all jabs at Peter... just so you know, Tina)Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-14181734114798902272012-02-02T10:20:00.000-05:002012-02-02T10:20:33.041-05:00Readership and a ReviewI need to make this relatively quick, because work is really busy and I thought about this at home last night, but I didn't do it. Which means I will not be proof reading. Jenna will do that, make fun of me, then I will go back and fix things in shame.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe8b9N_yx1ho50cxkkgg93K9jff_mMLjIHMwynEGTA1FPkSsyvpejqp9ee1Z8FPqqtNxv-cCXduF0LoB_tZRVmoOdyfis5ZD8X6vFTvvoaOQyCu6JuYoU6v6Q7GKEeQyk4H4CbZ3f7fOv/s1600/clooney.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqe8b9N_yx1ho50cxkkgg93K9jff_mMLjIHMwynEGTA1FPkSsyvpejqp9ee1Z8FPqqtNxv-cCXduF0LoB_tZRVmoOdyfis5ZD8X6vFTvvoaOQyCu6JuYoU6v6Q7GKEeQyk4H4CbZ3f7fOv/s1600/clooney.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sadly it will look like teenage Clooney<br />
... but with graey hair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I started this blog as my public display of the motivation I started to feel after turning 29. I'm not sure if motivation is the right word, but it's either that or intense fear and self loathing for getting old and grey and becoming worthless. I'll stick with motivation. (and that mini rant isn't true, I'm not scared of any of those things and I'm way too unreasonably confident and self satisfying to be self loathing, plus as soon as I go gray (I used both spellings) I'm going to look just like Clooney. <br />
<br />
But anyways, I write the blog as a way to keep me in check and potentially, albeit briefly, entertain myself and the few friends I know who routinely read the things I write.<br />
<br />
More often than not I know people simply "skim" the blog because they don't care about me or our friendship at all *cough cough* Lrian Boughner and Lim Joughner (no relation).<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/t5jw3T3Jy70?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Then, out of nowhere, I get comments from people who like the blog or read the blog or had the blog forced upon them by facebook telling them it was available to read because I told facebook to tell all the people I know.<br />
<br />
Facebook really does bring the world together and forces us to read or look at things we typically would have no interest in. Totally worth $100 billion, I mean did you see that Kristen Bell sloth thing, how funny was that. Oh Ellen!<br />
<br />
Okay, so yes I put it out there. I'm confident enough in my opinions, views, and ramblings that I don't mind who reads what I write. I'll happily discuss my ramblings with anyone (please talk to me!) and I think they are ridiculous enough that if anyone is offended and they continue reading they will find a sentence or phrase within seconds that is so stupid they'll say, "oh this guy isn't a jerk, he's just an idiot."<br />
<br />
Idiots get away with everything, just look at the Republican primaries.... OOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHh political burn!<br />
<br />
So the point of this already pointless blog. Last weeks "Parson Brown" post was, in the history of all the world's blogging, the second most controversial blog every published. The first being the classic KickJames post about Casey at the Bat, found below:<br />
<br />
<i><a href="http://kickjames.blogspot.com/2011/10/no-kickball-in-mudville.html?spref=bl">The Chronicles of Kick James: No Kickball In Mudville</a>: Hubris, Unhealthy Expectations, or the Ball is Too Small: A Scientific Analysis of Ernest Thayer's Casey at the Bat . </i><br />
<br />
Some people, some very dedicated readers absolutely hated both No Kickball In Mudville and Parson Brown. The funny thing about this, is when I typically write a blog post I either black out and don't remember doing it, or I anguish over how stupid I think it is and think everyone is going to hate it. I have literally only looked at three blogs upon completion, smiled, nodded my head and said, "Good job Tom Chew. Gold. Solid Gold!"<br />
<br />
Bet you can't guess what two of the three are? Oh, you can? Yeah I guess that makes sense, since I'm talking about them right now.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihLt27vMAfoYXcgyrAdkMyKlDphOkGTQk6MX_K_J7rF1ytMASXk-tO82Rsp9-CYc7e76HY1tN8_VVY5BpjvoBuNC2lJAQhMRxK5RLVUDNxecVggOCQTfFt5NDg6stkoDDCHiV3_a5uDvZ/s1600/baptism+jacob+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihLt27vMAfoYXcgyrAdkMyKlDphOkGTQk6MX_K_J7rF1ytMASXk-tO82Rsp9-CYc7e76HY1tN8_VVY5BpjvoBuNC2lJAQhMRxK5RLVUDNxecVggOCQTfFt5NDg6stkoDDCHiV3_a5uDvZ/s200/baptism+jacob+.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I thought this picture was going to be a part of a <br />
funny adult blow up pool mishap, but that's just<br />
Jacob...<br />
getting baptized.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Back to it. God this was supposed to be quick. Superbowl, huh?<br />
<br />
Oh yeah, I'm getting into pretty good shape and my brewing has increased. When I say my I really mean Brian's, but he is kind enough to talk to me about it and he let me pick out the last recipe. He also has kegging equipment now, so we will be in a blow up swimming pool with a fire roaring and mini keg readily available before we know it. It'll probably be warm enough by March, so that's good.<br />
<br />
Seriously, back to it. I try to write so people enjoy it. When I write a contentious blog or something someone just doesn't get or doesn't connect to I feel bad for wasting their time. Contrarily, when I write ridiculous ramblings that lead to nothing, I don't feel bad at all. Hmmm... I'm sure some famous psychologist or another would have something to say about that.<br />
<br />
So what I am saying, through all of this, is who are you? I have almost 1000 hits on the blog and I really don't know who even reads it or what you like. Tell me who you are, comment or email me or say it on facebook, I don't care how you do it. But who are you and what would you like to see more of. I will cater to your needs and leave my other opinions and thoughts to the bleeding ears of my poor wife.<br />
<br />
I also wanted to say thanks. Thanks for giving me your time and reading. Even if you do just skim, I feel validated. I don't feel loved and I hate you, but at least I feel validated... Let's talk about passive aggression (Just kidding, that's its own blogpost).<br />
<br />
So without further adieu, I meant for this blog to be the paragraph about who reads and what you'd like to read about and the following.<br />
<br />
Here is probably the best response to any blog I've ever written: and it is in support of Parson Brown. I was surprised at the mixed reviews, because<strike> I think everything I do is amazing</strike> people were so honest and genuine with their "meh feelings," which I really appreciated. I asked my friend Mike, who I know reads every week what he thought and here is his response. See you this weekend readers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://kickjames.blogspot.com/2011/10/no-kickball-in-mudville.html?spref=bl"></a><i>I spoke (updated my status) without thinking earlier, by saying should I read it twice?, because truthfully I had to read it a few times, and reference the lyrics, wikipedia, and almost a real encyclopedia, to understand it. </i><br />
<br />
<i>Kudos, it was over my head, partly because I know none of the lyrics and partly because it was so reference rich. Skip to the point; it was awesome in every way. </i><br />
<br />
<i>As a literature minor (Babs Epstein always thought legal studies majors were essentially lit minors, as our curriculum requires almost as much lit as it does law) I understand the importance of drawing comparisons from the literal into the symbolic and back again, and making sure to distinguish the times and the cohorts and the individual feelings within the spectrum of populist appeal. You managed to do this effortlessly and casually while simultaneously utilizing an astute perspective unique to everyone else. </i><br />
<br />
<i>The great authors wrote what everyone knew but were unconscious of, what everyone felt but could not articulate, and what everyone became to know as common, while revealing a point destined for revolutionary change. Ok, forget the revolutionary change as it regards to your blog about Parson Brown (Xmas lyrics will suck forever I'm sure, despite my addiction to Christmas music between the last week of November and January 1st every year). </i><br />
<br />
Gold Mike, pure gold!<i> </i>Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-3303853690339593422012-01-26T10:51:00.000-05:002012-01-26T10:51:49.331-05:00Parson Brown Infuriates MeSo let's get this straight, Parson Brown didn't do anything wrong in "Winter Wonderland." He didn't do anything wrong because he didn't exist. He was a snowman the stupid couple built, called Parson Brown and then proceeded to have an inane conversation with an inanimate object.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking way too much about this lately because I have had this demon spawn barrymore of a song stuck in my head, seemingly for weeks. I find myself whistling it in the shower. Everytime I step outside my voice drops to its rich baritone (more likely a painfully off key and crackly girly alto) and out it comes, "walkin' in a winter wonderland."<br />
<br />
It's awful. I've <strike>read articles</strike> potentially heard about people who have perpetual hiccups. A lot of them end up going a little crazy or killing themselves because they can't handle constantly and uncontrollably hiccuping. My situation is literally, exactly like, if not worse than, that.<br />
<br />
So let's do something you should never ever do: Think too much about the lyrics and meaning of a holiday song.<br />
<br />
Starts out strong. Listening and glistening is an excellent rhyme and I have to admit "walking in a winter wonderland" is some solid alliteration and a catchy chorus.<br />
<br />
But that's our only respite... the very first verse.<br />
<br />
They jump right into it. Coming out strong replacing the very specific blue bird with the completely non-defined generic "new bird." What exactly did they mean when they said new bird? We know it's a song bird, but apparently there aren't any song birds with a one syllable name? I did some research and according to Google, if you ask "what is a new bird", four of the first ten search results are about the addition of a brand new bird to the Angry Birds franchise.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMvynYdq43G_CqSZ_8KkDoL4FoRB3snMM6eftA6Pb-07P15kHH0Y0iI7efQya-L1RAGk3h_O3Nohp4cAQbLiSpr5CMacFqH8CbFSyk_7JiWjJc_oZgX3MO1sev5pnu9bCzSxepePvBnxf/s1600/Nuclear_Winter_by_0Savage0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtMvynYdq43G_CqSZ_8KkDoL4FoRB3snMM6eftA6Pb-07P15kHH0Y0iI7efQya-L1RAGk3h_O3Nohp4cAQbLiSpr5CMacFqH8CbFSyk_7JiWjJc_oZgX3MO1sev5pnu9bCzSxepePvBnxf/s320/Nuclear_Winter_by_0Savage0.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What else did they predict?<br />
Walking in a Nuclear Winter Wonderland?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'm choosing not to go down the path of explaining how <span class="st">Felix Bernard (music) and Richard B. Smith (lyricist) predicted the world domination of Angry Birds and may, in fact, have been the original inventors of the smart phone. Geniuses stuck in the wrong time. The technology of their era failed them, so they chose the next best thing to get their message out... to ensure future generations would be excited for the new birds of Angry Birds... they chose to predict the future through holiday themed music! (Or they were idiot hacks.)</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">So I'm not going down that road, instead I'll move forward to the worst verse of the Christ forsaken calamity of a song. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">First they build a snowman. Fine. Great times. We've all done it. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">Then they name the snowman Parson Brown. Hmmm... excessive maybe? I've never named a snowman to impress a girl, but I'll let it slide.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">"He'll say are you married?" - So when they build him they said they are going to pretend the snowman is Parson Brown. That's pretty specific. Almost like snowman Parson Brown is the persnowification of a real person whom they know. Wouldn't he know if they were married? What a shitty Parson, doesn't even know his flock.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">Then their response is "We'll say no, man." </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">Have some respect you little pieces of shit. This is 1934 (thank you Wikipedia). First of all, you're both probably considered tramps and trollops for romping around in meadows together when you're alone and not married. Then you have the audacity to talk to the Pastor, even if he is a terrible person (probably an abusive drunk) who doesn't care about the people he represents, with no respect. </span><br />
<br />
<i><span class="st">(Or maybe Bernard and Smith were foreshadowing again to the hippy movement of the late 60's and early 70's, knowing a young Steve Jobs would be engrossed with the culture and go on to develop ground breaking technology that would eventually allow Angry Birds to be invented).</span></i><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyn7kxjzaPNkdRxsWqkbRAjgVceuXrH8Ja6019NvF-tZkjVURxG_anq7vzt4yzI6e2TckBwnZCktTh0jqoBS1OCYT5tmq5Uq0mKWToaMH1nXKgwj6KHjuJMN6b2gZvbxu2fwM7dvqLLvJ/s1600/gypsy+man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyn7kxjzaPNkdRxsWqkbRAjgVceuXrH8Ja6019NvF-tZkjVURxG_anq7vzt4yzI6e2TckBwnZCktTh0jqoBS1OCYT5tmq5Uq0mKWToaMH1nXKgwj6KHjuJMN6b2gZvbxu2fwM7dvqLLvJ/s320/gypsy+man.jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pictured: Parson Brown</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="st">Follow up to their ignorance... "But you can do the job when you're in town." </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">How non-commital is that? First of all, do they know this guy or not? Is he just some rambling gypsy who jumps from town to town? </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">Maybe he's really busy and they should sit down and make a real plan with him. Weddings take preparation and can be a time consuming portion of a Pastor's duties. Whenever you're in town swing in and hitch us up is not an adequate wedding plan. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="st">Are <b><u>they</u></b> orphan trollops and tramps? They don't want to include any friends and family? Are they gypsies too, just in a different gypsy troupe? These F'n kids are ridiculous.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">That's as far as I could remember when singing the song to myself. I'm not proud of my terrible memory, but before you read further, give it a try. I knew half the next verse, but not the whole thing. Can you remember the whole thing hot shot? Bet you can't!</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">Either way, the next verse is about laying around a fire conspiring about the haphazard plans they made with the snow built man of the Lord. They are dedicated to pursuing these plans unafraid. Maybe they should be afraid? Maybe they're not thinking very logically about this whole thing and they should take a step back and sober up. </span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">This is where the song really goes off the rails. </span><br />
<span class="st">The next day these kids build another snowman, but today it's a circus clown.</span><br />
<span class="st">If you're really ready for Gypsy Brown to drive his wagon scattered with bells and jingly trinkets into town to marry you, why are you playing with circus clowns?</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHtfbE0fyeT4DkWDdW1AHG2Hpqc35kEbbgSaLvvL-hjlAfGg7MU7-8E2TVeXHT3pMPeYa7O52cKAsJ2PpCfbJvF5eOa9XBLsnAms9AxwylcEfsOgJ6clyV6hLbkde9LCyS4Ehvb20vvFJ/s1600/6a00d83421046653ef0168e595c464970c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHtfbE0fyeT4DkWDdW1AHG2Hpqc35kEbbgSaLvvL-hjlAfGg7MU7-8E2TVeXHT3pMPeYa7O52cKAsJ2PpCfbJvF5eOa9XBLsnAms9AxwylcEfsOgJ6clyV6hLbkde9LCyS4Ehvb20vvFJ/s320/6a00d83421046653ef0168e595c464970c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Circus is over I guess... wedding still on?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="st">They have a grand old time with Snow Clown Brown until the other kids in town, who inevitably spend most if not all their time picking on these idiots, come around and murder Reverend Bozo. </span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">Our main characters don't even care. The physical representation of their love, their religion, their marital bliss, their joy and love of clowns, and their merriment was just snuffed and without a blink they finish the song with a completely irreverant thought and some pretty racist stereotypes about the Inuit peoples.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">"When it snows / Aint it thrilling / <br />
Though your nose gets a chilling / We'll frolic and play</span><br />
<span class="st">The eskimo way / Walking in a winter wonderland"</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="st">Snowman's dead. Let's frolic. My nose is cold. </span></div><br />
<span class="st">Hey, did you know that the northern natives who have a very rich culture of traditions and amazing, </span><span class="st">practically unparallelled,</span><span class="st"> perseverance when compared to any other modern peoples is made up of a bunch of chumps who just play in the snow all day, live in igloos and have chilly noses. How are they even still around?</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVdDNj5Gi6QWDwjeMmP3jKRZuh_Ic7T2rrL3XAt_VZVzjYH5sf4SIy-ij4tB8ainQSk5LG-4knMw4nJYbvd-tBKZ0DNOOY3PIsWOk_geruKYt4iQE64_VHqoizUjWT8fY1Kx1IHwk2r7K/s1600/irving-berlin-circa-early1910s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVdDNj5Gi6QWDwjeMmP3jKRZuh_Ic7T2rrL3XAt_VZVzjYH5sf4SIy-ij4tB8ainQSk5LG-4knMw4nJYbvd-tBKZ0DNOOY3PIsWOk_geruKYt4iQE64_VHqoizUjWT8fY1Kx1IHwk2r7K/s200/irving-berlin-circa-early1910s.jpg" width="138" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Worth it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="st">The moral of this blog: The 30's were filled with psychics, warlocks, and divinely touched demi-gods amongst man. Instead of preventing the second world war or preventing the AIDS epidemic... they wrote songs for Irving Berlin (pictures right).</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="st">Thank you for wasting however long this just took you to read with me. That song has been haunting me. Feel free to suggest new songs I should obsess about and break down line by line for the sake of entertainment/wasting minutes of the day.</span><br />
<span class="st"><br />
</span>Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-46724580752433249252012-01-20T12:37:00.000-05:002019-03-01T10:46:23.798-05:00I like setting up meetings for the following Tuesday...So at some point either I or the student I'm setting up the meeting with types, "See You Next Tuesday."<br />
<br />
It makes me chuckle every time.<br />
<br />
So this is literally my fourth attempt at writing this weeks blog. Yes, it's Friday. Yes I said I was going to do these things on Tuesdays, but I am really bad at this and my job has actually been making me work all week. The nerve!<br />
<br />
One of the posts started out as a brief retrospective of my hatred of Tom Brady and the Patriots, ie Freedom and America. But I couldn't even get through the second paragraph. It was shit.<br />
<br />
Then I had a couple of attempts at describing what makes a good kickball team.<br />
That one actually came from a pretty solid base.<br />
Bartending during the day at Marshall Street I have <strike>had the pleasure</strike> met four different kickball teams who play in the Saturday winter league. <br />
<br />
Two of the teams are okay. The majority of them had never played kickball nor had they been to Marshall Street. So, you know me (or you don't, whatever), I was really excited to talk to them about all things kickball and to get them really drunk so they would like Marshall Street a lot (and so they would continue to talk to me about kickball).<br />
<br />
It worked with one of them, and they're hooked. The second, not so much. Turns out I have absolutely nothing in common with pretentious, obnoxious, and extremely competitive young doctors at Strong. Okay, so I have two things in common with the pretentious and obnoxious things, but I'll talk about all the German Indie Garage Acoustic Metal I listen to and the foreign independent documentaries I watch in another blog... oh, you've never heard of them, yeah, I'm not surprised. (hipsters!)<br />
<br />
The third was the worst though. (The fourth was inconsequential, they play for Dragonfly which isn't open during the day, but they'll never be back.) First they came in in waves, sat or stood under the projection screens while the playoff games were on, and then they made me come to them for their drink and food orders. Then they gave me shit about not coming often enough while I was the only bartender in a bar with 40 other people in it. (Woah is me!)<br />
<br />
Then one of the dudes sent his burger back because he wanted it well done (without asking for it well done) and it was too <strike>perfect</strike> juicy and pink for him.<br />
<br />
Then the dude demanded their team shot right before complaining that his free liquor wasn't very good and he'd like it sweeter the next time.<br />
<br />
To top it all off the table of 10 or 11 ended up leaving me about a 6 dollar tip. F them so hard. I even smiled the whole time they were being <strike>awful </strike>themselves.<br />
<br />
But all that got me thinking of how groups form and interact. Of the three groups, there was one or two obvious leaders in each crowd, but they didn't really dictate too much. The groups definitely had a shared persona and similar interests. I could see how they ended up together - Hey, I can't help notice that nobody likes you. Nobody likes me either, you want to hang out even though we really don't like each other. Yeah? Awesome! My dad never hugged me.<br />
<br />
There must be a secret corner of the internet I've never heard of where all the D-Nuggets (Douche, not Denver) get together and decide they're going to stick together to try to ruin the day, night, week, hour of whomever they subject themselves to. Maybe they're all still on Myspace? shittymatch.com?<br />
<br />
I will be the first to admit that I am not everyone's cup of tea. I know this and I've accepted it, it's part of growing up. I can be brash, I can be loud, sometimes I just don't shut the fuck up, but I'm also really nice to everyone the first time I meet them and give everyone a genuine chance while putting my own best foot forward (my best foot is my left one due to a couple of unfortunate surgeries when I was in high school).<br />
<br />
You can tell me how much you hate that dude from work for doing all sorts of dickish stuff (STEPHEN, you forgot to put new toner in the God Damn copy machine! JESUS!"), but if he's really nice to me I'll probably still like him at least a little bit. I'll find something.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPeXmyks3yScjRXg7SiL9ZW1kyMHeBjN90NNdkMZ27CozhrrFxGs5q17a7-CaBXfUFDs2AoArh0fhTBrZR666V5SLhp50COGOr5XIaKyPH-ReIF2TXVLVi-To1_4bMbDvLvW0jTck7GKI/s1600/fabio-love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPeXmyks3yScjRXg7SiL9ZW1kyMHeBjN90NNdkMZ27CozhrrFxGs5q17a7-CaBXfUFDs2AoArh0fhTBrZR666V5SLhp50COGOr5XIaKyPH-ReIF2TXVLVi-To1_4bMbDvLvW0jTck7GKI/s320/fabio-love.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I didn't add the hearts... <br />
but I'm not mad about it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm not expecting everyone to fall in love with me right away.<br />
Eventually, yes.<br />
But right away, come on now, who am I, Fabio from Top Chef? That guy's an angel sent right from heaven. When Padma met him she instantly told Salman Rushdie to shove <i>Satanic Versus</i> up his B. <br />
<br />
Designing, understanding, and navigating social constructs is one of the most usefulskills a person can have. Where we get messed up is knowing that very few people actually have those skills. Even the people whose occupations require them to excel in these areas, politicians, teachers, counselors, drug dealers; are often only adept at dealing with their target niche of constituents.<br />
<br />
Think broad. Widen the spectrum. Nobody is going to make you happy 100 percent of the time , so we need to teach ourselves to find, hold on to and remember the best in everyone. Whether that means falling in love and staying together forever or simply not murdering them because you don't enjoy jailhouse showers (they don't rock) or they were nice to a puppy one time (it was a really cute puppy), we should all try to find that one thing.<br />
<br />
That one thing can't define the relationship though.<br />
<br />
Not murdering someone or briefly feeling intensely positive feelings for someone should not outweigh the sum of that persons actions. People change. Friends might have been positive figures in your life at some point and you'll always remember them somewhat positiviely and at least be cordial based on that, but that doesn't mean they have to be your friend for the rest of your life.<br />
<br />
You'll change too.<br />
<br />
I have. I used to be way less awesome. I still have room for improvement, I know it. I could totally be two inches taller and so many more people would respect me for it. <br />
<br />
This took a twist for the ranting, but to get back to my initial purpose and point of view -<br />
<br />
Not every kickball team is <a href="http://kickjames.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">I'm Kick James</a>. In fact, none have even come close. We just work, and we're just good at being together. Even when we get too excited, take things a little personally, and get intense, we always bounce back and remember why we're there (beer). Even the teams we've seen (the caped people, the birthday with the crowns, the generally nice yet totally forgettable people) did not understand us and they never will. They're not meant to.<br />
<br />
If you're not affiliated with Kick James, you should really consider somehow getting your foot in the door... but you probably can't play because we already have 92 people on the damn team.<br />
I'm an awful captain.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-14573781449934212112012-01-13T15:14:00.000-05:002012-01-13T15:14:55.505-05:00Ramblin' ManSo it turns out it still snows in Western New York. The proverbial "they" says things like "when it rains, it pours" and "did you see Veronica, she looks like a whore," but in this case both of those things are true: if you replace rain with snow and pour with white outs and trucks in the ditch on the 390 and Veronica with your mother and whore with is such a nice lady.<br />
<br />
I didn't die on that trip into work this morning, which I have decided is a good thing. Recently, besides being terrible at keeping a blogging schedule, I have been very consciously living my life.<br />
<br />
No, I'm not going to spend abnoxiously long paragraphs explaining what I mean, but I will summarize it:<br />
<ul><li>- I'm thinking about my day to day existence rather than floating.</li>
<li>- I'm working on getting healthier.</li>
<li>- I read a couple things the other day, so that was good... even though The Governor is not proving to be very good at all.</li>
<li>- Jenna and I got a food vacuum sealer for Christmas so I've been vacuuming the <strike>shit </strike>air out of things.</li>
<li>- I'm spending time looking to the future and making positive moves to make that future way better than bad.</li>
</ul>Not too bad, right? That concise explanation proves that I'm not an insufferable windbag. If you are reading this and at any point in your life you have thought I am actually an insufferable windbag, well that is mean and I don't know why you would do something like that to me. Jerk.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gcjEaNGc4scK9zUjNKul5gEfarqw5qu7NJrhoxrzDLqBfmfpuGgPsjzlC7SS0CYZSX_7p2AwOMgL75y85XeZLGrlRda9D_OVs_pDNd15zXgzXNy_KfWnInPqFJft55LXJ95N9B92UPTX/s1600/joey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gcjEaNGc4scK9zUjNKul5gEfarqw5qu7NJrhoxrzDLqBfmfpuGgPsjzlC7SS0CYZSX_7p2AwOMgL75y85XeZLGrlRda9D_OVs_pDNd15zXgzXNy_KfWnInPqFJft55LXJ95N9B92UPTX/s1600/joey.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This man can legally shoot you if you<br />
look at him funny. That's a real law!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>So, this blog will mostly be rambling, like the title suggests, but it's also what I've been thinking about. I talked to my buddy Joe a little bit this afternoon. Joey and I have been friends since 5th or 6th grade I think. He's a cop back home and still one of the funniest guys I know. You wouldn't guess it when he has a gun or when you're standing next to him in general, but he is.<br />
<br />
This got me thinking about relativity. There was a time, when I lived in Boston, that I thought it was the greatest place in the world and tried to get all of my friends to move out there to hang out with me. Eventually I talked my girlfriend into doing that and then she became my wife and she started doing the same thing.<br />
<br />
Looking back at that time I'm not sure if I really wanted everyone to move out to Boston because it was Boston or if I just missed my friends. I am in a strange situation where I am still extremely close with my high school friends despite the fact that we rarely see each other and many of us are hundreds of miles away. We talk. We keep in contact. We pick up right where we left off each and every time we see each other, even if it has been years. We will still come to Rochester to help me move or build things or fix things if the situation comes up.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gF17XaZHRHpfE5Roy9hUD0KG3Zl9XwEcwr6wEax44dxBGalntl3xKOUqDszwBXyDMflg_-xKYvj-qHUtD3FeR1lm89Z47RSuc26FkGD8Pc32wcW1nWGQTindq2hIVck1-PKRLBVMizwR/s1600/phil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gF17XaZHRHpfE5Roy9hUD0KG3Zl9XwEcwr6wEax44dxBGalntl3xKOUqDszwBXyDMflg_-xKYvj-qHUtD3FeR1lm89Z47RSuc26FkGD8Pc32wcW1nWGQTindq2hIVck1-PKRLBVMizwR/s1600/phil.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approachable means the same <br />
thing as smarmy, doesn't it?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Another spawning factor to this slew of thoughts was the save the date I received in the mail yesterday from one of my other high school friends who is marrying one of my friends from college. This got me thinking about how strangely words collide. My group of friends in Rochester is an incestuous conglomerate of people in love with each other who have no real reason to even know each other. If it weren't for a sandwich shop with great soup, the close proximity of some pretty large party schools, a long lived mecca of welcoming on Vassar Street and Phil's approachability (pictured to the right), who knows who I'd be hanging out with most of the time.<br />
<br />
Probably just my wife and that would be disastrous. She would get sick of me so quickly we probably wouldn't even be married anymore and then I really wouldn't have anyone to hang out with besides maybe my dog, but Jenna would probably take the dog, so I'd really only have the bottle so I'd probably start drinking a lot and then I'd make all new friends, but not the right kind of friends, these friends would be all into some nefarious shit like bootin' black tar heroin or thinking Drew Barrymore is a good actress, or like thinking Drew Barrymore is attractive, or like thinking being adorable in ET correlates to being a relevant actress/person of interest well into your 30's (man I hate Drew Barrymore).<br />
<br />
So with that tangent being complete I get back to my original point.<br />
<br />
Drew Barrymore is the worst.<br />
<br />
The way our worlds combine, collide, coincide, coca-cola classic, and constipate into each other is really interesting. Thinking about how chance, circumstance, coincidence, and randomness comes into play in our every day lives can really make a person start questioning life. Fate. Destiny. Or it can just help you realize how lucky you are to be where you are in life. Even if you're pretty miserable or in a shit situation, you could have just as easily looked left instead of right and been leveled by a city bus. Or you could be Adam Sandler or Justin Long, forever stuck to the black hole that is Drew Barrymore. The Wedding Singer was funny, that does not mean you were Drew. 50 First Dates was the start to the end of the Adam Sandler I used to know and love and I blame her. Justin, Jeepers Creepers should have been the greatest mistake of your life, not this, not her, not ever!<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if there was a single line of value in this entire blog entry, but I am pretty pleased with that picture of Joe and the Veronica is a whore thing. Hope you enjoyed! Be safe out there.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-69747200868681981992012-01-03T14:12:00.000-05:002012-01-03T18:49:07.544-05:00Motivational ResolveNo, I did not post last week. Yes, I should have. I'm sorry PJ and I'm very sorry Kyle.<br />
<br />
A ton has happened in the meantime, quick recap:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Aqp3TotmsQ/TwOTkhKhZ4I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/SyHC_D3w6dI/s1600/397449_728354839343_44201803_35558180_540144481_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Aqp3TotmsQ/TwOTkhKhZ4I/AAAAAAAAAlQ/SyHC_D3w6dI/s320/397449_728354839343_44201803_35558180_540144481_n.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My face and these actions are basically the<br />
perfect representation of the holiday Season</td></tr>
</tbody></table><i>Two weeks off of work</i>. I have no idea how tomorrow is going to go, but it's terrifying. <br />
<i>The entire two weeks spent with my favorite Swede</i>.Oscar loves beef jerky, skittlies, Dinosaur, and Marshall Street.<br />
<i>Christmas</i>:<i> </i>Three cities, four days, too many meals, drinks, presents.<br />
<i>Lancers game</i>: Indoor soccer is awesome.<br />
<i>Amerks game</i>: Talk to the guys at the door and you will get your Swedish friend on the ice between periods.<br />
<i>New Years</i>: Opening up every bottle of champagne at midnight and then drinking straight from the bottle is not the most economical way to celebrate. It is effective though. <br />
<br />
So much fun, so many great things and people, but I don't really want to talk about all that.<br />
<br />
So I didn't start writing this thing as a new years resolution. I think resolutions are like diets, they don't work because they are our special little way of telling ourselves what not to do rather than encouraging ourselves in the things we do well. They're lifestyle constraints, not lifestyle adjustments.<br />
<br />
Sadly, I'm not very good at working out. I'm an excellent eater. I am fantastic at watching tv and telling people about the things I've watched even though it's obvious they don't give a shit at all. I'm really good at hanging out with my friends, and my friends are really good at sharing meals and drinks and laughs. Little changes I dedicate myself to are going to be way easier to uphold than entirely uprooting my life.<br />
<br />
So let's talk about a new year. 2011 was awesome. 2012 is giving every indication of being even better. For me it is things like this (nodding my head toward the computer, more specifically the keyboard). I've said it before, I'll say it again, I enjoy writing this swill. Sometimes I try to be funny, sometimes it even works. Sometimes I try to be sincere and that rarely comes off as anything but silly. It's writing this and changing small things that is going to make the difference for me.<br />
<br />
I'm going to focus on the small accomplishments starting with this post right now:<br />
<br />
<b>Brian's Irish Curse</b>: My beer is good! I should not be calling it my beer, because it's really our Beer, but Brian and I made an Irish Stout and it is actually delicious. It's encouraging as hell and I can't wait to do it again.<br />
<br />
<b>Getting Healthy</b>: So a lot of my motivation comes from Jenna. When she is motivated and moving forward it is hard not to follow her. That's mostly because she is an unimaginable force to be reckoned with and is uncompromisingly dedicated when she says she is going to be.<br />
<br />
I've worked out like 4 times and it f'n sucks. But I did it and I'll do it again today. Tony Horton is a sonofabitch. We're doing a biggest loser competition with two of our friends, just to help motivate ourselves and each other. Did you guys know salad is delicious? The hardest part for me, personally, is the fact that I used to be so much better at this stuff. I'm at almost the same weight I was when I was in the best shape of my life, but you could never tell. I'm gonna have to work twice as hard and long to just accept that I'm not that guy anymore and figure out what the new shape of Tom Chew looks like. I'm going to guess it will look a lot like Ryan Gosling.<br />
<br />
<b>Reading stuff</b>: So, this one still hasn't been embraced. The Governor is still on the shelf and the Game of Thrones series will be behind it, but I don't know when. I do know a lot more about playing video games online thanks to Oscar and I got 11 kills in a Modern Warfare 2 online deathmatch, but no, I'm still on page 30 something. <br />
<br />
<b>Follow through</b>: There is a lot I want to do in my life. A lot of traveling. A lot of personal and professional accomplishments I'd like to meet. I want to buy a house. We're going to start a family sooner or later. I want to do so much, but I need to realize that there is only so much time and I need to remind myself, like I tell my students all the damn time, you can do everything, but you can't do it all at the same time. We can only plan for so much. We can only save so much money and go on so many trips and there are only so many hours in the day, and that sucks, but it is what it is and we just embrace it. At least I'm trying to embrace it.<br />
<br />
So if you're reading this, still, you probably know me and you're probably really bored. I will ask a favor though: help push me. I mean, you don't need to be like, "Hey Thomas, it's Tuesday, good luck with writing and working out, did you read anything today?" In fact, please don't do that, because it would be weird. But if you like the blog, let me know. If you're doing something fun, exciting, active, and want to get more people involved, let me know. If you want to do something new or different or fun and exciting and want help, let me know. If you don't think about any of this ever again, that is also fine.<br />
<br />
If you want more fun stuff, that is much more light hearted, I'm going to add some stuff to the <a href="http://tomchewis29.blogspot.com/p/what-i-learned-over-holidays-things-i.html" target="_blank">Nerdy Stuff for Nerds</a> pages on the sidebar.Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1584581441008105424.post-83506480088128286912011-12-20T15:44:00.000-05:002011-12-20T15:44:55.085-05:00Holidays, Shuttle Busses and Zombie Fiction aka Deadbus Celebration (my new indie metal band)What do you think it would be like if we still lived in a society hell bent on eating Geese for Christmas?<br />
<br />
No ham, no turkey, no fully roasted duck in the Chinese restaurant, just a bunch of amateur hunters, who hate the letter V, with shotguns going to the field next to their houses with a prayer and a dream of taking that lead goose down so he never see's the south again. <br />
<br />
The holidays are funny when you're older. I have twin ten year old brothers-in-law and a small niece and nephew who are so much fun to watch on the holidays, but in a lot of ways, it's just so much F'ing stress. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZjiKpFXAOyvy1IUO0tobRNHroAy_u_34VVQIzj9gTUs7SoMGACUtZF7fTLqo5e6GwO0ufy0rLAJrk1Bzbaj_uhq6TI8LmdmJLNt6zwNXx8qS9lpaCq9Q5VyjWDnnk9MPBttSYmbxbNKji/s1600/ugly+sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZjiKpFXAOyvy1IUO0tobRNHroAy_u_34VVQIzj9gTUs7SoMGACUtZF7fTLqo5e6GwO0ufy0rLAJrk1Bzbaj_uhq6TI8LmdmJLNt6zwNXx8qS9lpaCq9Q5VyjWDnnk9MPBttSYmbxbNKji/s320/ugly+sweater.jpg" width="289" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Pictured</b>: The proudest moment of<br />
my young life.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: right;"></div>Finding the good with the not-so is sort of what this whole blog thing is all about, so I don't want anyone to think I'm being a dickscrooge, because I'm not. The holidays are amazing and everyone, myself included, always loves them... once they're over. They lead to extremely high points, some awesome food, some spectacular arguments, and most of all an excuse to live in excess for a couple weeks at a time. <br />
<br />
"Yes, I know I smell like gravy and have a new chin, but Christ was born you ungrateful douche nugget!"<br />
<br />
And that brings me to the second part of this holiday related feast of frivolity...<br />
<br />
What do you get when you cross 20 young men and women, a shuttle bus, a parking lot, two wretched sports teams, a two hour ride, six thirty packs, a grill, a guy named Sean, and a reasonable distaste for protecting ones liver and/or moral compass?<br />
<br />
You get our trip to the Bills/Dolphins game on Sunday!<br />
<br />
<b>5:15am</b> - Three consecutive beeps awaken our young hero from his short slumber.<br />
<br />
"The shuttle broke down, I wanted to tell you as early as possible, I'm searching for a replacement."<br />
<br />
Anger, panic and the intense need to urinate simultaneously hit our scholarly superman. The third having nothing to do with the former. No shuttle, 19 people anxiously awaiting a funfilled day of excess. Hours before we're scheduled to convene.<br />
<br />
Our victor sets into action. He walks groggily directly into the bathroom to relieve himself. It did nothing to help the shuttle bus situation, but it was quite the weight off his bladder. He proceeded to do nothing but be awake for the next hour and a half. Seriously, what was he supposed to do it was 5:30am at this point.<br />
<br />
<b>7:00am </b>- Still nothing<br />
<b>7:15am</b> - Brian texts and asks if he's allowed to be bottomly naked for most of the trip. I tell him the situation and call sitting next to him on the bus.<br />
<b>7:30am</b> - Option 1: 34 passenger limosine: $1400... I laugh.<br />
<b>7:35am</b> - Option 2: Sean and a new shuttle... I'll take it.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQTjUAmsvv4Uy3Svfk2LWN6Vaebr5jQXy75IhMgcU310NOr-xAEzPJZeo0lh8-9F_ke-dCNEsI8z_4DiD-S8t55HAXfx0QoHPhjsswZrRz6Ec2hUB-KC6mobxWv-tnz5vnbNpLC1Lqfyd/s1600/405431_723400647306_16504636_36143581_752805272_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIQTjUAmsvv4Uy3Svfk2LWN6Vaebr5jQXy75IhMgcU310NOr-xAEzPJZeo0lh8-9F_ke-dCNEsI8z_4DiD-S8t55HAXfx0QoHPhjsswZrRz6Ec2hUB-KC6mobxWv-tnz5vnbNpLC1Lqfyd/s320/405431_723400647306_16504636_36143581_752805272_n.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Pictured</b>: A perfect description of the day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
20 young men and women. Coming together despite overwhelming differences and hatred/loathing I feel for each of them that I never tell them about because I'd be bored all the time.<br />
Just kidding... or am I.<br />
(I am)<br />
<i>Big jump</i><br />
<br />
<b>9:30am</b> - We've been on the shuttle for fifteen minutes and one of the 30 packs is already gone. We need to stop.<br />
<br />
<b>11:00am</b> - Everyone almost pisses themselves, but only two or three of them actually do. The tables are being set up. The grill is being assembled. The frisbee was too cold, which is why I'm so bad at Kan Jam. It has nothing to do with my lack of talent.<br />
<br />
Food, lasers, dancing, beer, beer, porta johns, beer, food, friends, fun, snow.<br />
<br />
<b>1:20pm</b> - Our seats are pretty sweet. We proceed to watch 10% of the game. We drink 11% of the beer sold that day at the stadium. The blurriness starts. More people urinate on themselves.<br />
<br />
<b>4:00pm</b> - Silliness. Who won the game? It doesn't matter? You guys want to wrestle on the concrete like it doesn't hurt really badly even though it does? Yup, me too.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLbodXnS62PLcmJBLEMKNfwL9uaJ78CIB6cxuakggDoCXPcFZyvZiMIPfjBFSkHJZElyAuMU8ZHA2pelhGTR5CwZ7-4qjXe7rUDEw2gigLiJ7qifsMoYLqvMXumozoGB9kNYlaasKuj3n/s1600/post+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLbodXnS62PLcmJBLEMKNfwL9uaJ78CIB6cxuakggDoCXPcFZyvZiMIPfjBFSkHJZElyAuMU8ZHA2pelhGTR5CwZ7-4qjXe7rUDEw2gigLiJ7qifsMoYLqvMXumozoGB9kNYlaasKuj3n/s200/post+picture.jpg" width="119" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Pictured</b>: What happens<br />
when we decide the bar is <br />
reasonable.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<b>Later</b> - I lost track of time. You guys want to play music really loudly, but not finish any of the songs we start? Yup, me too.<br />
<br />
<b>Even Later</b> - That was so much fun, we should definitely go to the bar.<br />
<b>A little later </b>- Why the balls are we at the bar, this is ridiculous, I'm going home.<br />
<br />
<b>6:00am</b> (The following day) - FUUUUUUUCK! Worth it.<br />
<br />
Aaaaand now:<br />
<br />
ZOMBIES! I just got and read the newest Walking Dead Trade. I realize that many of you read that sentence and decided never to talk to me again based on not knowing what the hell any of it meant. Allow me to explain, as briefly as I can. <br />
<br />
At some point in the history of comic books, a dork decided he wanted to get laid so he renamed them graphic novels. They're basically the same idea, but the stories are often much more adult, intense, and sometimes bloody or sexy, sometimes at the same time (at least I hear that's how they do it in Eastern Europe).<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUAjwNCmrn4MZEQ14PICjn7NDd63F-rAiLUqg_yBkBkzWUqS4uaHn9J6BvOn_uf4Oas-SnYsUNmR4V-sEid7Ah3t4Cqk685ZAQ7VOg2Wah6v-R8GcKNme-bYUy18wqyfe6iewe5i9jXhyphenhyphen/s1600/mail.google.com.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHUAjwNCmrn4MZEQ14PICjn7NDd63F-rAiLUqg_yBkBkzWUqS4uaHn9J6BvOn_uf4Oas-SnYsUNmR4V-sEid7Ah3t4Cqk685ZAQ7VOg2Wah6v-R8GcKNme-bYUy18wqyfe6iewe5i9jXhyphenhyphen/s320/mail.google.com.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Pictured</b>: A poorly taken picture of one <br />
of the greatest gifts ever given.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The Walking Dead is an ongoing graphic novel revolving around a group of survivors coping with life after a zombie apocolypse. Zombies are always on their mind and always a threat, but the story is really about the people and how messed up their lives are because of the whole apocolypse thing and because of how we, as people, really don't handle adversity very well. Especially when that adversity is either trying to eat you or was once married to you, but is now trying to eat you.<br />
<br />
It's phenomenal and everyone should read it. The new trade (a group of issues put together so people don't need to read one comic at a time) came out yesterday and was one of the best yet. I read it in record time and it made me think of a lot. When all is lost and everything you've been trying doesn't seem to be working, what do you do? You rely on the people around you. Whether they are your best friend or a stranger, when six dead people are trying to eat you, it's much easier to take them on with someone next to you.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thus, Deadbus Celebration was born! Happy Buffalo Zombie Shuttle Merriment everyone!</span></div>Thomas Chewhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09607394454049968605noreply@blogger.com0