Thanksgiving - A Holiday for Making the World a Better Place

Today is a holiday rooted in American (particularly United States American) history. Puritans, pilgrims and cornucopias, all assembled (even the cornucopias) to give thanks to their God for finding a new freedom away from their oppressors across the pond.

I work at a Mexican restaurant and consider myself somewhat culturally aware; yet I was still surprised to realize how many of those coworkers who came from Mexico see Thanksgiving as just another day. (I guess it doesn't make too much sense to give thanks when a people invaded your continent and killed most of the inhabitants through violence and disease.)

Even through its past religious particularity, and through its sense of national pride, I think Thanksgiving is a great holiday.

I hold the belief that giving thanks can make the world a better place. This is because giving thanks breeds humility. It's hard to stay mad at someone, or not like someone, if you can find something, anything, to say "thank you" for. I have found that thanking someone, especially when they don't expect it, often creates an atmosphere of respect and like-ability (not drinkability). It raises the atmosphere of consideration and concern for well-being.

Today, I am thankful for more than I can think of, but less than I could be. There is so much to be thankful for. Even if Thanksgiving is just another day for you, consider taking on an attitude of Thanksgiving, and let me know how your world becomes a little bit better of a place.

A Song for Kids

I really wouldn't be a good uncle unless I wrote a song for my nephew.

This one got its start when Chris Hall challenged me to a writing duel on the theme, "What's Passed is Passed." This was my second attempt, the first being much more serious. This one is just plain ridiculous. (Beware of falling puns.)
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What's Passed is Passeded

Me and Mark went down to the park one day
Saw an old grey goat with a purple and pink toupee
I said, “Gee, Mr. Goat, what you wearing that for?”
He said, “I just don’t feel like a kid anymore.”

Everybody wants to be a kid
Boy, I really wish I did
Pay attention while it lasted
‘Cause it don’t last longer
Than this little bitty song
They say “What’s past is passeded.”

Me and Tim were dying for a swim last week
Saw a mule by the pool keeping it from taking a leak
We asked, “Why you sitting with your hoof in a crack?”
He said, “Why’s everybody always on my back?”

Me and John were playing on the lawn one day
Saw dogs on the street with their feet in roller skates
They said, “We run just for fun, we were getting our kicks
But we’re tired of perspiring chasing sticks
Even old, old dogs can learn new tricks.”

Gmail Ninjas!

In case you haven't noticed yet, Gmail now has themes.

Admittedly, it's just email. It's no big deal. It really doesn't need to be more personalized than it being addressed to me. I really shouldn't be so excited. However...

I have ninjas!

Category: Things that are cold.

1. I've got a new blogger on my blogroll - Becoming a Minnesotan. She's not cold, at least not in a misanthropic way, maybe temperature-wise... I digress. She moved from Alaska to Minnesota. Now, she might have made the blogroll because I am infinitely curious about whether or not she will dye her hair dark (with freckles? Can it work??), or because she finds me moderately entertaining. Either way, there she is.

2. The weather is cold. Yeah, 25 degrees today. That being so, I got a Cocoa Trio at Seattle's Best Coffee inside of Borders. I also got it with half & half, which makes it amazing. ALWAYS ask for half & half.

3. Anti-freeze gets cold. The guy at Jiffy Lube wanted me to get a radiator flush. I was like, "Don't do it." Even though he threatened me with a cracking radiator or engine block destruction, I was like... no. I'll take it to TJ's for that kind of thing. I trust them a little more. And I don't want an unexpected ridiculously high bill, like Steve (my roommate) got.

Ok, so maybe they aren't all things that are cold, but cold reminded me of them.

One of my many songs inspired by a random dream

This is slightly embarrassing to admit, but for the sake of art I'll continue.

I woke up one morning with my lips puckered skyward. Yep. Awkward. I had been having a dream with one of my female friends in it, and we were kissing. (This was over a year ago, so many of you are safe.) It's not like it was something I really wanted to happen, but I felt sad when I woke up and I was by myself.

From that dream came this little ditty. I imagine it would go on an album called Folksy Simple Songs for Songsy Simple Folk. Without further ado, here is "Where is the one that I love?"

Where is the one that I love?

You kissed me on the mouth again last night
It started on my lips and then it ended in a dance
I woke with my lips pressed against the sky
Oh where is the one that I love?

Your smile was contagious, so it seemed
It sprouted to a tree and into shade for all the weary
Your fullest branches caught up in a dream
Oh where is the one that I love?
Oh where is the one that I love?

Sitting, thinking, lights are blinking, set to land but never going down
Runway’s clear and landing gear, if I can clear my mind
We’ll circle back another time

I kissed you on the hand again last night
It started in a dance and then it ended like the movies
You brushed against my shoulder with a smile
The warmth reminds me just how cold I’ve been
Oh where is the one that I love?
Oh where is the one that I love?

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Oh, Dani - Street Fighter II and the like.

Sunday night I was inadvertently challenged by a friend of a friend. She has no idea what she's up against.

Back in the day, I used to play a few video games, because I only owned a few video games. Above Aladdin, Battletoads and Beauty and the Beast (which was ridiculously hard) was my favorite game of all time, Street Fighter II. It was, and is, way better than the other games out there. The combos and special moves weren't ridiculously complex, and there was no way to be uber-cheap about it.

Anyway, I would spend the better part of my life playing SFII. It was relaxing, I guess. This was around the same time I was getting into guitar, so I alternated between the two. But I was better at the game.

Well, this friend of a friend (we'll call her "Dani") is confident that she can beat me in this, my game. Now, it's been a while since I've played, but it's also been a while since I rode a bike, and I'm sure I can do that just fine. She is quite confident in her skill.

To address her taunt, I penned a lyrical retort.

Bring it, sister.

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Oh, Dani

It’s true, that you’re winner, no position on your wall
Is without trophy, an award or accolade
Exiting victorious is apparent in your walk
It seems there’s only one mistake you’ve made
You see you’ve thrown a gauntlet down, you’ve taken off your gloves
You’re asking for a street fight in the rain
With a vision of your victories in your perfect polished den
You never thought that mine could look the same

Dani, oh Dani
If you wanna play, I’ll beat you at your game
Oh Dani, well, Dani
You think you hold the reign, but all the same
I’ll beat you at your game

Your mind is fit for fighting, but your legs can’t walk the walk
You’ve been riding your own coat tails for so long
You keep on button-pushin so I know you talk the talk
But could you, would you speak, admitting you were wrong?

Oversleeping, and... Miles Davis!

Today I woke up rested. I vaguely remembered hearing someone in the shower at some point. Then when I awoke I had the strange feeling that everyone from the apartment was gone.

That's because it was 11 a.m. How does that happen? I slept for over 10 hours. Oh well. Now I'm trying to catch up on my day, which is obviously done best by writing a blog.

In case you didn't know, because I didn't, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis is the top selling jazz album of all time. I went to Borders and asked my friend Kevin for an essential jazz album (I was looking for something a little different, and had a 40% off coupon). He handed me the recently released re-issue of this classic album. It being my first jazz album, I was excited.

I'm not gonna lie, it made me feel like I was at Panera. It put Steve to sleep. But, it was enjoyable. I liked it. It sounded like they were playing right in the living room, and they were playing very well.

Jake said it would be my gateway drug into jazz, and I really wouldn't mind. There's about a million jazz albums, so why not get started? I think next I'll go for some John Coltrane.

Any suggestions?

Blackhawk: Down

Tonight the Chicago Blackhawks retired jersey number 3. I know because I was at the game, and at the retirement ceremony preceding it.

3 was worn by leading defenders Pierre Pilote (1955-1968) and Keith Magnuson (1969-1980), both influential players in the history of the club. Now it will never be worn by another Blackhawks player. That's a pretty huge honor, and I (not a hockey fan) was trying my best to grasp the gravity of it. Even still, I could sense something significant was happening.

Hockey's a special sport. People expect fights, give much more running commentary than other sports, and pretty much everyone is white. Even with all those quirks, I must say it was pretty fun. It's way more fun in real life than on TV, that's for sure.

Oh, and they play the organ. Yep, the exact same organ you would have heard during the years of Michael Jordan and the world champion Chicago Bulls. It's pretty epic.

The Blackhawks lost, but it was still a fun game. I don't think I'm up for any singing tomorrow, as my voice is pretty war-torn. But I think it was worth it.

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Raisins and things that look like raisins.

I made French toast!

But not just any French toast. It was with cinnamon raisin bread. Scrumptious.

Or so I thought.

I never would have imagined that those tiny little dried grapes would have such an overpowering flavor. Really, they just took the whole darn thing over. I think I'll shy away from raisins in my breakfast from now on, unless they're in oatmeal or cereal. Besides, they look like flies.

Segue!

Here's an old song about being a fly.

The Fly Song, c. 2001

I am a fly
I got one of my eyes on you
But all the others are looking for some food
I've got six legs
And two wings on my back
You will find me
Trying to have your snack

'Cause I'm a fly, that's what I do
I land in food after I land in poo
That is my job, I must confess
It's a job that flies do best

I am a fly
You might think that I am braggin'
My type is house
I'm not a horse or dragon
The female's dig me
Gaze into my thousand eyes
They know that I'm
Pretty fly for a house fly

[offspring breakdown]

(how many legs does a fly have?)
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, cinco seis

Yes, I'm a fly, that's what I do
I land in food after I land in poo
That is my job, I must confess
It's a job that flies do best

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My Cute Nephew!

So, in case you didn't know, I've got good genes.

It has to be true. I mean, look at this kid. He's adorable!

This is too cute. Check out the photographer's blog -
Elisabeth Nixon Photography

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Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? A grammatical effort.

For some reason I though it would be a good idea to write a song using a lot of pronouns.

I'm a nerd.

So, what better way to do that than to try and solve the age-old mystery of who stole the cookie from the cookie jar? It's kind of dark, musically. You'll have to imagine it. For now, I hope the poetry will amuse you.

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Was it he?

A small child not amused with toys

Too preoccupied for an innocent boy

Could the chocolate and sugar that he has enjoyed

Be the reason he is acting so paranoid

Will we see?

Was it he?

Was it she?

Little girls should be sugar and spice

But if they need a refill they won’t think twice

If the jar is left open or closed it’s no hindrance

For her mastermind tricks and her quick disappearance

Houdini with a penchant for mischievous themes

Could it be?

Was it she?

Was it they?

Could it be that they would work as a team

Silly and unselfish as that may seem

It would be proper and fitting to propose such an action

When one plays the thief and one more the distraction

Their powers are stronger uniting their factions

And their deviance more than was ever imagined

Who will say?

Was it they?

Was it you?

You pretend that you care all along

With a sense of intrigue over righting the wrong

Keep your friendships close, but your enemies closer

Your actions are gross but your motives are grosser

Slipped your hand about to the side of the toaster

To procure a trophy just the size of a coaster

When the citizens see you, they’ll turn white as ghosts for

Your face shall be pasted on a most wanted poster

All for a snack, for a nibble at most

Is it true?

Was it you?

Would you guess, could it ever be

The accuser would become the final accusee

An offense so vile, so evil, so grave

That the victim at work was the killer at play

And the final crumb of evidence would be in the possession

Of the one who would finally say

Was it me?

Lyric of the Day

"Love is an ocean for those who can't swim." - In Octember

Lyrics

Today I made a decision.

[oh my gosh... Backstreet Boys "As Long as You Love Me" just came on... DANCE PARTY!]

[still dancing...]

[typing and dancing]

Ahem... Today I made a decision.

I bought this $2 book at the thrift store the other day. It looks really old, is full of blank pages, and reads, "Corporate Records" on the front. I'd take a picture, but I'm not at the apartment.

I decided I would like to write all of the lyrics I have in that book. All the finished songs, starting as far back as I can remember, and moving forward.

For those of you who don't know, that's a lot. Like... a whole lot.

The thing is, I don't know if I can fit, find or remember them all. But I'm sure it'll be fun to try. And I'm sure I'll find things I never expected to find. Maybe things I never wanted to find. And then, when I die a million years from now, they'll find this book, and say, "Man, that's a lot of lyrics."

In commemoration of this decision, here's the first song I'll write in it. I played it for my senior year choir concert, and as I recall, there was an amazing kazoo solo.

Time for a Change

Time passes freely
Who knows what tomorrow might bring
Or if it will come
These words could be my last
So, listen to a dying boy's advice
It's never too late for a change
Never too late for a change

Let it go
Leave your old self behind
Take off that mask, allow your soul to breathe
Don't be afraid, you're only who you are
Just show your real self for a change
It's never too late for a change
Never too late for a change

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