Oklahoma Weather & Childhood Memories

I don’t want to be one of those slack-jawed yokels that say, “Gawl dang, lookie at all this snow!” However, Friday was the last day of winter here in Oklahoma. It was 72 degrees, warm, and sunny with a nice breeze. Yesterday was the first day of spring and there is a foot of snow on the ground. The wind is howling and snowdrifts were piled so high we got stuck in the middle of the road. So I called in as “unavailable” to work today.
Yesterday, I managed to make it home from work fine as the temperature was not bitterly cold and the massive wind had not kicked up yet. On Friday, I was home from work and the kids were on Spring Break. I warned them to go outside on Friday because on Saturday, they would not be able to.
Sure enough, the snow came. Normally I have to chase Jason out of the house and away from the video games with a broom. But yesterday, while I was at work, Amy told me that she could not keep Jason inside. Decked out in his black Under Armor and dressed in his Clone Trooper helmet, Jason reenacted the Imperial assault on the Rebel base on Hoth.
This got me to thinking of my own childhood and how the apple certainly doesn’t fall far from the tree. I grew up in North Carolina in the city of Charlotte. Now, for Charlotte to receive snow, it has to come up through Georgia – which doesn’t happen very often.
But I remember one winter we finally got snow… and being a young Star Wars fan, this was the moment you waited for since you saw The Empire Strikes Back. Before you were relegated to draping white sheets over the carpet and furniture in the den (until your parents discovered what you were doing). But the problem is my mother never bought just plain white sheets. So all my Hoth environments had little paisleys or designs on them.
But finally, snow. Honest to goodness, deep snow. I remember setting my Tauntaun action figures out with the cold weather Luke Skywalker riding him and then taking my snow speeder and flying circles around him (by running in the yard) to get the picture perfect camera angles for my mind’s eye.
I would flop down in the snow and play with the Tauntaun and my Wampa Ice Creature, reenacting the whole scene over and over again, despite my front getting soaked from lying in the snow… and I could have cared less. I think it is extremely cool that my sons are just as obsessed with a wonderful thing like Star Wars just as I was at that age. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree at all…

How Honest Abe & The Undead Made Me Look Like A Psycho in Wal-Mart…

Disclaimer: Everything I am about to tell you is TRUE.
Today, I went to my local Wal-Mart to pick up some pizza for the kids’ lunch, dinner for tonight, and a Monster for me. (It is my last guilty pleasure with my diet.) I am not a compulsive person by any means. I was there with a mission: food, pricing a new set of headphones & mic for my computer, and to price a new TV to replace the boys’ that went nuclear last night.
I was done shopping but for reasons that cannot be explained, I went down the aisle with the books and magazines “just to see.” Then, it caught my eye – this wonderfully, ridiculous template of utter insanity. When I first saw it, I said out loud, “What?” The title was four words that should never have justifiably been used together in… well, in all of modern history. I snatched it off the rack began devouring the dust jacket blurbs – scarcely able to contain my excitement of this incredibly off-the-wall concept.
And I immediately started laughing. I had to have this book. No matter what it took. So I called the Comptroller and got the disbursement of funds approved.
Book in hand, I laughed all the way to the check out stand. I talked up my purchase with the cashier – who did not seem to openly share my mirth in the book title. I laughed in the parking lot. I laughed all the way through Pryor. As I was driving, I was thinking to myself, “To whom can I call to tell this story of abject insanity? Who can I call that would appreciate this tale as much as me?”
Out of all my friends, I knew there was only one. There was only one perfect choice. He was the first on the list… So I scrolled to the end of my address book and pulled up “X-Ray Man Aaron.” This man is a black hole for books. I proceeded to tell him the story almost exactly the same as I have told it to you now. As I reached the conclusion of my tale and I prepared to unleash the title of this masterpiece, Aaron simply said, “Let me guess…”
I could not have anticipated this would be his response but, really, there could be no other conclusion to this tale. And then he said those four precious words:
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter.
I gave a huzzah that rattled the windows in my car and we continued with the discussion. As it turns out, he is reading the exact same book right now. Now, just let that title sink in for a minute. Yep, the author has taken real moments from Lincoln’s history and has blended in elements of vampirism. This is his follow-up to Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.

I would type more but I have to start reading right now. Good bye, free time. Let’s start the insanity.

Building Great Foundations For People Can Start With You

I am extremely lucky in that I knew from a very early age the industry I wanted to be in. Comic books (or Graphic Novels for all you snooty peoples out there) quickly became my passion. Originally intending to break into the industry as an artist, I quickly realized my art talents were not up to snuff and I began to switch over to more of the writing aspect. Obviously, this has paid off in dividends. I still consider myself an artist but I paint my pictures with words now instead of my pencils.
Still, in high school, any teacher that paid attention knew about my artistic side. Nurturing artistic sides can be a difficult thing. I love Michael Bublé and I totally wish I could sing like him. He does a rendition of I’ve Got You Under My Skin that just blows the roof off the dump. But I don’t have the chops. I just don’t. And you have to be careful not to nurture people when the talent isn’t there. Want proof that this happens? Watch any start to the American Idol season. So you have to have passion but you also have to have a certain amount of natural ability. The embers have to be in there to start the fire.
Now, my dad is an All-American Water Polo player. He is in the Swimming Hall of Fame. To this day, he still has that “swimmer’s body.” Clearly the athletic gene in the Foley DNA strain skips a generation. I played High School football for two years. Don’t worry. This isn’t some Al Bundy tirade that ends with me saying, “I played High School football! All City back in ’66. Scored four touchdowns in a single game.”
Fact of the matter is I stunk at football. Well, let me take that back. I was the best Scum-O running back Adair football had ever seen. (If you don’t know what Scum-O is, ask your brother.) I was smart enough to know how to run multiple opposing team’s offenses from every position so that our First Team Defense could practice against it. Unfortunately, I had no athletic ability. I had heart for miles and wanted to perform desperately… but I just didn’t have the chops.
Between my Sophomore and Junior year of high school, things went south at my house. My mom & dad both lost their jobs in the same month. The SAME MONTH. And a decision was made. If I wanted the high dollar sneakers and the fancy jeans and my comic books, I had to get a job.
Now, when you go from playing high school football in a small town to NOT playing high school football, your stock has a tendency to dip. I think it was a year or maybe two after I graduated from high school that I ran into my football coach at a basketball game. The first thing he asked me was if I was still drawing.
Man, are you kidding me? Do you know how special that is for an athletic coach to recognize the true gifts of a person and acknowledge the importance of cultivating that gift – especially when said gifts are not athletically related?
So, needless to say, I was not surprised at all when I just heard that Coach Russell Kruse was part of the 2010 class of inductees for the Oklahoma Coaches Hall of Fame.
Teachers, mentors, parents, Big Brothers & Sisters, all of you have the potential to play an extremely important role in a person’s life. You can be a rock of encouragement. You can be a source of inspiration. You can be a booster.

Ask yourself sometime, “What role am I playing?” After all, you never know whom you might inspire…

Finding Him and Yourself in the Details

I have professed my love of the films of Kevin Smith for years. And while I am not skilled enough to critique his skills as a director, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he is a fantastic writer. In one of his more controversial films (for really no reason whatsoever), Smith wrote the following dialogue for Rufus the 13th Apostle who was purposefully left out of the Bible because he was black. Speaking of Jesus, Rufus said:

“He likes to listen to people talk. Christ loved to sit around the fire and listen to me and the other guys. You know whenever we were going on about unimportant shit he always had a smile on his face.”

There is an expression that God is in the details. The true definition of person does not come in the big, sweeping questions. Christian? Jew? Muslim? Republican? Democrat? Pro-gun? Anti-Abortion? Giants fan? Cowboys fan? (Although for the record, that last one… yeah, just stone those people in the streets.) People are never impressed with the broad strokes of an artist. Broad strokes do not a painting make. It is the small strokes, the subtle blends, and the minutiae of the details that make a piece of art or music truly inspiring.
Now, stick with me. It seems like over the last several months, a few people have been removed from my life because of job changes. And it is strange. My former boss and I at our 9-to-5 used to share stories as we were setting up the department of the day. These conversations could be about World of Warcraft, fantasy football, movies, cool facts discovered on TV shows (we both dig the History Channel and Discovery)… All of the conversations were of things that, in the grand scheme of things, had no relevant bearing in my life. I don’t want to call the topics “stupid” but more “inane” than anything else.
I have friends from high school – good friends – friends that I would be happy to call brother. Some of these guys I have not seen in years. We maintain contact via email and Facebook but it does not have the same level of closeness. So you would think that if we got back together, we would have just loads of stuff to talk about. And yet… have you ever experienced that? You should just be spouting Wikipedia levels of information at this person. It has been three years! But you find yourself with nothing to talk about.
Then I have my friend Luke who I see all the time at work. To this day, we have NEVER run out of things to talk about. Granted most of those conversations revolve around boobs, video games, intercourse of various fashions (filmed and live), work related BS, movies, and such. By all accounts, it is all inconsequential… Yet I crave those conversations.
So if we are made in His image, and if God is in the details, then one could surmise that these inconsequential details – this unimportant stuff – are who we truly are. It is these little exchanges, this small, meaningless crap that actually makes your life worth living. So to this argument, I would add a quote from one of history’s greatest minds.

Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted. --Albert Einstein

Soaring on Wings of a Film

Years ago, I discovered my true joy in music. Finding songs with lyrics too distracting to write to, I discovered a wonderful synergy while writing to Original Music Scores from films. With almost 250 soundtracks in my library, I like to think I have become a bit of an aficionado on the subject. Now, when a big movie is hitting, I always look to see who is doing the music for the film.
My favorite composer of all time is a gentleman by the name of Hans Zimmer and I am always on the lookout for new music from him. (I was super-stoked when he signed on for the new Batman film franchise.)
The problem with loving this type of music is the ability to spread this joy around to my friends. Thank goodness for YouTube.
There is an album of Zimmer’s called Wings of a Film, which is a live concert recording of his music. I have always said that if there were some miracle that Zimmer and an orchestra came to the BOK center, I would sign up faster than I did for Star Wars: In Concert. And I would probably pay more for tickets. Yeah, I love Zimmer’s work that much. If I could right music, I would want to be able to write like him. I can’t think of higher praise than that.
From Wings of Film, there is a track called “Thunderbird” from the movie Thelma & Louise. If ever there was a track that made me want to play guitar (short from Gary Hoey’s Auld Lang Syne), it is this track.
The music is long, almost 8 minutes in length. It starts slowly and then gradually builds and at about 5:22 the music just takes off into the stratosphere.
Greater indeed are pleasures that are shared, so this is my humble offering to you… Enjoy. And to Mr. Zimmer, thank you…

THUNDERBIRD

Once More Into the Breach…

It is coming, my friends. Can you sense it? It is the inevitable doom on the horizon and it is rushing at all of us like a black basalt wave under a moonless midnight sky. We can sense it, feel it in our bones, and we are powerless to stop its crushing, relentless assault. It is coming…
Valentine’s Day.
I heard on a radio add that two out of every three women are disappointed on Valentine’s Day. What is synonymous with the holiday? Flowers, chocolates, hearts, jewelry. It is a time for a man to put forth a display to showcase how much he loves his woman. And what do the women have to do for this holiday?
I asked several ladies at my job what they are doing for their men this Valentine’s Day. The most common answer given? Nothing. “I guess I’ll give him some…”
That is all women have to do on Valentine’s Day. Put out. That’s it. Now, don’t get me wrong, it is a fantastic gift and no man ever turns it down. But look at the stress and angina that we have to go through to get it.
Case in point, in one Facebook entry, a girl was commenting on how the cupid arrow had struck her boyfriend and the person said, “Wonder what he wants?” Now, the short answer is “let me get up in them guts.”
But regardless of what we do, men are screwed. Every second of every day. Women are often so self-conscious about their appearance that if a man comments on how pretty they look, then clearly we must be up to something. We must want something if we are being complimentary. It is like we always have an ulterior motive.
Now, maybe, 90% of the time we do. But that ulterior motive is to, again, get up in them guts.
But it is so nightmarishly unfair. Men run around looking to find all the perfect gifts. If you don’t buy her diamonds on Valentine’s Day, you don’t love her. Didn’t bring her flowers, you don’t love her. “Why didn’t you buy me chocolates? Marie’s husband bought her chocolates! Is it because I’m fat?”
And so, to quote my last blog entry, men get punch drunk. So, riddle me this, ladies. What are you doing for your man this Valentine’s Day? Throw you legs up in the air and maybe, if he’s lucky, get all the way naked? You promise not to wear the flannel footie pajamas to bed that night?
Romance is a two way street and just giving it up without an argument is not really much of a gift. I say this not to chastise but to educate. Try to see things from our point of view once in a while. By the previous rationale, Romance is like having us start at our own two-yard line to begin the drive but when you get the ball, you get to start in the Red Zone.
It’s all too easy for you all. We gird our loins and charge once more into the breach. And all you have to do is say, “Come and get it” or in some cases “Well, let’s get this over with…”

Ladies, you have it pretty darn easy. Maybe you should do something different and go out of the way for him for once… Weaker sex, my ass.

The Small, Subtle but Incredibly Important Differences

Biologists say that there is only a 3% biological difference between men and women. Those small, subtle differences are incredibly important in the game of life. But how different are men and women psychologically? Infinitely. How? Read on…

Now, many people ask me, “Ryan, you have a job in a produce department and you write comic books on the side. Clearly you are swimming in cash. [I know those first statements are not questions.] Why buy generics?” The answer to this question is that I like to stay connected to the common man. I don’t demand that the public carry me around on a palanquin – the things that they used to carry around the Pharaohs… (Although that certainly would make shopping at Wal-Mart easier.) But I do tend to go for the store brands and the generics to save a few pennies here and there. I am saving up for an ivory backscratcher.
Often times, generics can be a gamble. I have had some generic Raisin Bran that was like chewing cardboard and little nuggets of rubber. But then there have been pleasant surprises. The frozen Best Choice Garlic Bread is the best! But you have to have standards in your life. Certain aspects should not be compromised.
Seriously, are you buying condoms out of a markdown basket? I don’t think so…
We do tend to clip coupons and occasionally we change up our brands depending on how much money we can save. So it was quite a treat when Amy came home with Cottonelle toilet paper. I have always been a strong proponent that this is one area that cannot and should not be compromised in. And ever since they stopped making Aurora White, I have been particular about my choices for back there.
(A shiny dime to whoever can cite that pop culture reference first…)
Many of you are thinking, “C’mon, Ryan. A blog entry about your toilet paper usage? Have you just run out of stuff to talk about?” Fear not, true believers. All of this has been a prelude.
So with the coupon gravy train drying up (that reminds me, we need pet food), we went back to the standard Angel Soft – the Wal-Mart house brand of toilet paper. And I am not happy. So I tell my wife, “Man, that new toilet paper is horrible.”
Amy gets mad at me for this statement and fires back at me that it is the same brand we have used in the past and I need to get over it because I am just using it “to wipe my ass.” Yes, I married her for her demure attitude. And for the record, everyone likes to be pampered back there. I dare you to use hotel sandpaper grade TP for a week and then try to argue that point with me.
So with two prefaces out of the way, we come to the meat of the entry… You see, in her mind, what I said was that she made a horrible decision by buying it. Let me state that I was in no way raking Amy over the coals for her decision. I don’t know if they changed the formula or something but I don’t like it. And because of the packaging, you never really know how TP is going to feel. It’s a crapshoot. (Pun intended.) I guess you could crack open a package and test it on the aisle before purchase but I don’t think employees at said store are going to be very happy with you.
But toilet paper is not the issue here. Ladies, if your men tell you something, you cannot take it as a personal affront. Last time I checked, Amy is in no way connected with the manufacturing of Angel Soft nor does she sit on the board of directors. Therefore, she should take no personal insult towards my comment – but that is how it was perceived. It was like I walked in and said, “Hey moron, that toilet paper you bought was horrible.” Which could not be farther from the truth.
Could I have phrased my comment differently? Sure. In hindsight. What I should have said was, “Man, Angel Soft must have changed their formula or something because I do not remember it ever being that rough and scratchy. Next time, can we buy Cottonelle again?”
I see that now, again, in hindsight, because at the time, I had no idea that a sane person would take personal offense at the “hey, the TP is rough” comment. See, my problem was I was looking at the situation LOGICALLY. Clearly, trying to defeat a woman with logic is a losing battle. But this is just a symptom of the insanity of trying to deal with women. These are the battles we as men have to fight and clearly we are unarmed.
Why do you think poker players hate playing with amateurs? Because amateurs make insane moves that no pro would ever make. And trying to have a logical argument with a woman is like trying to have a boxing match with an psychotic because you never know what ammo those people are bringing to the party. At what point will they pull off their boxing gloves and attack you with a rubber ducky and a chain saw? How can you prepare for that or defend against it?
So after a while, men become punch drunk. We are tired of trying to box straight up against someone playing Duchess of Queensbury rules. I am armed with 16 oz. gloves and you are stepping into the ring with a cat o’ nine tails and an enema home kit and I don’t like your intentions with either…
As a result, men shut down. We quit fighting. At which point, wives get mad and complain to their friends. “I never know how he is feeling. He won’t talk to me.” Because last time, I told you I didn’t like toilet paper and you took it as a personal insult.

Husband: “I am not really sure I liked those capers in the eggplant.”
Wife: “Well, I can’t do anything right. You can do all the cooking from now on! I’m going off to slit my wrists in the bathtub! Call the coroner!”

See how we can’t fight that mentality? So rather than lose another argument, we just choose not to engage in it. We shut down. And you made us this way. Ladies, think about that from time to time. Be a little more understanding and open and we might not be so afraid to open up to you…

But truth be told, when you ask us what we are thinking about, 90% of the time, it really is boobs. That is just male nature. That’s one fight we surrendered to a long time ago and have no intention of winning…

The Power of Colbert Compels You!

The Thursday February 4th episode of The Colbert Report first aired at 11:30 p.m. Eastern time. In the show’s second segment, Stephen reported that a Canadian magazine nearly 100 years old was changing its title because it was being blocked by Internet porn filters. The title of the magazine was The Beaver. The company decided to change the name to Canada’s History. Colbert then called on his readership to go to UrbanDictionary.com and post entries under the title of Canada’s History of the most depraved sexual acts imaginable to ensure that Canada’s History would become a mainstream sexual term. (I don’t know if it will reach the popularity of the Dirty Sanchez, the Alabama Hot Pocket, or the Cosby Sweater…)
So I watched the episode this morning (God bless the DVR) and when I logged in at 10:10 a.m. Central time, there had been 409 entries on 59 pages of entries. That’s unbelievable. Man, I love Colbert and to quote one of his segments…

That’s the craziest f@#king thing I’ve ever heard… Hysterical!!!!

Cogs in the Machine

Man, it is strange how quickly things can change in the space of a month. My 9-to-5 Job has been tossed into a nightmarish upheaval that I have not really commented on here because I was waiting for the dust to kind of settle. For the uninitiated, I work in the produce department of a local grocery store. It’s glamorous, I know, and most of you are probably going to be sending me emails asking how I got so lucky. Still, it paid the bills while Amy was in school and it serves as an outlet for me now that she is working. Isolating into Hermitville is probably not best for me from a psychological standpoint.
So here it is in black and white. I’ve never pulled punches on here before so why stop here? (But names will be safeguarded to preserve reputations.) Shortly after Christmas, my boss decided to leave the company abruptly. 15 years of history wiped clean because of a deserved altercation between him and management. 15 years erased because of a crippling disease. Don’t drink, kids. It never ends up well. I still keep in contact with him and I hope he gets the help he needs. But if I were a betting man… Let’s move on.
So he is gone and my future was in jeopardy. But I have weathered the storm and slid through unscathed… like always. I’m like freaking Neo dodging bullets. But the hits just kept on coming.
A person that I considered one of my best friends has moved on to greener pastures as well. We did not work in the same department but it was someone that I would take breaks with and constantly joke around with. We’ve seen stripper boobs together and that gives you a certain unspoken bond. So like that, my friend – and I do consider him a true friend – is gone.
And here a few days ago, a second person from our department is prepping to leave. (That means that in the last two months we have lost 2/5th of our department.) And when you interchange that many people in small departments, the landscape changes dramatically.
Now, let’s add in the fact that the red tape of paperwork and the logistics of hiring someone often cripples our store. Which means it is probably time for me to step it up at work… again. “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” Why do things like this always happen when I am really in a groove and flowing with my writing?
Still, as John Donne once said, “No man is an island.” And it is amazing to me how one or two key changes can so dramatically affect the entire landscape of an organization.
Stop and look around every once in a while. How big a cog are you in your machine? Will people at your job miss you when you are gone? Will they celebrate? The most important thing in any person’s life is to feel necessary, to feel valued. Make people appreciate you tomorrow. Make them value your presence… because you never know when your last day might be.

“No man is an island entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as any manner of thy friends or of thine own were; any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

--John Donne

What A Way To Make an Exit...

"All I ask of you is one thing: please don’t be cynical. I hate cynicism — for the record, it’s my least favorite quality and it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get.

But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing... things will happen...."

Conan O'Brien

01-22-10

Final Appearance as Host of the Tonight Show

Damn good advice. We miss you, Co-Co....