The evolution of friendship...lessons learned...:)

The friendships you create throughout life are an interesting thing.

I can remember when I first made friends. I lived in a small cul-de-sac and there was my best buddy next door, my friend across the street and the cute Asian girl who lived next to him. Then there was the slow kid who lived down the block who would knock on my door and ask, "Can Brriiaan come out and plaaaay?" And the older kid who lived on the corner that nobody liked because he had a big mean dog. That was pretty much my world.

My buddy next door didn't want anything more than to play. We played for hours and got along like brothers. When it came to toys, what was his was mine and vice versa. But we usually didn't play with toys. We did boy things. We built forts, explored the woods and searched in nature for weird bugs so we could "do experiments" by putting them in mason jars with holes in top to see how long they'd survive. He never wanted anything more than to be my buddy.

Now my friend across the street had a different agenda entirely. I was allowed to come over and play with him and his toys, but if he wanted his toy back, I had to give it back right that minute or he would kick me out of his house. It was like he paid the bills and mortgage on the entire one-story evil empire. He was very possessive and I learned early on that I didn't like it when people were like that; and he who has the most toys doesn't win in my book. They just sit alone in their evil empire with a stack of toys and nobody to play with.

It seems you learn lessons very early on about how to create and maintain friendships. Some people are blessed with that ability and others aren't. When it comes to friendship, I think I fall somewhere in between my buddy next door and the friend across the street. I'm not great at making friends, but I try to treat them with respect, listen to what they have to say and not interject with my opinion until I've thought about what I want to say.

In high school, my friends were typically nice guys. Although I wasn't religious, I was friends with the church-going type who placed their moral integrity above all else. I respected their commitment to God and, although I wasn't next to them in the pews on Sunday, I'm sure the lessons they learned rubbed off on me by association. Of course, there was my one God-fearing friend who stole money out of my wallet when I wasn't watching, but I guess the Devil made him do it. After all, we're all entitled to a fail now and then. I'm sure he needed the $100 more than I did anyway.

In college I had great friends. I came north to study at Western when I was 20 years old and was quickly introduced to ice beer. Can't say that was my crowning achievement, but it was a lot of fun and something I think all 20-year-olds should experience with their buddies.

A few of my best friends in college were also gay men. Maybe it was my naivety or boyish charm, but I attracted a lot of them. Eventually I became best friends with a gay man. It was different, but fun. Thinking back on it now, he wasn't that different from my childhood buddy. We cruised around the city, went clubbing together a lot and I learned to match my shoes to my belt. Only difference was he was checking out the cute boy at the bank and I was looking at the girl.

As I try to make new friends now, keep my current friendships strong and break ties with friends who are not making me a better person, I realize that the lessons I learned from my friendships growing up taught me some people are okay with sharing. Some people want to live in an evil empire filled with toys. Some people put their friendship with God above all else. Some people are tempted by the Devil. Some people like drinking ice beer. Hell, even some dudes like the cute guy at the bank. And it's all okay with me.

Learning to accept it all and still love the people who have enriched your life and taught you to be who you are without prejudice or judgement is a continuing struggle, but a struggle worth making and a journey with taking. Here's to making new friends and cherishing those you have. They make your lives what they are and without them, you're nothing.

Was I rude? Read the e-mails and decide for me.

So, I replied to a Craigslist ad for a ghost blogger and they called me rude. I didn't think I was being rude, but maybe you'all have a different opinion. Here's the conversation. What do you think? I might have gotten a little annoyed, but was I really rude?

Me:

I'd be interested in helping to write the (edited to protect) blog for $10 per post. I figure that's a fair price for an hour's work.

My current blog is: briankingsberry.blogspot.com

Take a look and let me know if you're interested.

BK

360-318-5921 - cell

Them:

Hi Brien,

Posts don't take an hour to write, plus receiving free swag (edited to protect)  is a pricy bonus.

Anyways, I have received over 30 applicants and have already chosen the (edited) blogger. Thank you for your application- in the future, don't ask for more before you are even picked. It is considered rude and other people will not hire you.

Me:

okay, thanks. Didn't mean to seem rude. I just thought $6 seemed a little cheap for my time. I'll ask whatever I want when selling my services. I think $10 isn't unreasonable. It takes me about an hour to write my current blog, so I was adjusting accordingly. If i can't do a gig for at least minimum wage, it's probably not worth the time anyway. I'm sure you'll probably realize this when dealing with your ghost bloggers. You get what you pay for. 

I'm glad you got the position filled.

Them:

Brian-

Again, rudeness. I have worked in the business industry all my life and grew up in it. If there's one thing I know, it's payment- and able to tell if you are being rude. Writing an entry for 6$ is overpaid. I know many people who apply for ghostblogging positions that take quite a few hours and only be paid one dollar per post. I am not asking you to write a book, which is the cost you are asking for, and a book takes at the very minimum one month to complete. Lots of times it takes half a year to many years.

I have received an applicant who is professional, been doing this for a long time, and can mirror my style and is exactly what I asked for. So yes, I am getting what I am paying for- perfection and excellence. You could learn it yourself if you wish to fulfill this type of position in the future for any person. No rational person will hire you for 10$ per entry.

Me:

I'll agree to disagree. I just said that for my services it's not enough. Obviously you're not interested in my services, so it's not even a point worth typing about.

I'm sure you know what they say about opinions...Everyone's got one. If you want someone to read yours, maybe you should think twice about how you treat people as well.

Them:

How I treat people?

Free (edited to protect) swag,

Easy and quick money,

Free coffee and/or hot chocolate,

work from home,

kindness,

generosity,

free (edited to protect swag.

Ever heard of "do your research"? A very common statement.

I am giving you advice from a professional who has been in this industry for seventeen years. You can choose to take it or leave it, but if you leave it, you should be aware of the consenquences.

Email me again and I will report you to craigslist and will spam you from my inbox.

Learn. You obviously need to learn a lot.

Me asking question of the day: What do you think readers? Would you read this person's blog? And is ghost blogging even acceptable? Shouldn't you do your own work? That's what I learned in school. Life has taught me that lesson the hard way a few times...:)

What kind of "energy" do you have today?

Have you ever walked into a room and felt either negative or positive energy? As a photographer, I deal with that a lot. I believe that everyone has a spirit within them that gives off energy and people can feel that energy the moment they lay eyes on you. Sometimes even sooner.

I like to believe I'm more in touch with this energy than others. I sometimes think I can see and feel things in people that others can not. Don't get me wrong, I'm not crazy -- I don't think. It's not schizophrenia, but I just think I'm more in touch with the spirit world than the average guy. I may be delusional in that belief, but it's how I feel and I'm sticking with it.

I've found that there's no time you realize the power of this "spirit energy" more than when you point a big camera lens at someone. Some people instantly let their positive energy run wild and smile, dance, jump and act out like children without a care in the world. Some people stare at you like a deer in headlights, not really sure what to do. Yet others shoot you an icy jolt of negative energy that makes most photographers instantly turn their lens away. Sometimes I like to fight that urge and see what happens next. It's like a battle between curious and negative energies. Out of respect for the subject, I usually lose that battle and turn away, but sometimes their negativity subsides and they open up enough for me to snap a few decent shots.

There's no time I've realized the power of this spirit energy more than before a mixed martial arts fight. I've been photographing fighters for a couple years now and I can tell a lot by the energy a fighter gives off prior to entering the cage. Obviously, it's rare that a fighter would want their picture taken prior to a fight. I usually try to be respectful and sneak a few pictures here and there without disturbing them. After all, they're in preparation mode, so their energy is usually mixed and not very conducive to picture taking.

I think the fact that fighters are flirting with death is what brings out an entirely new element to the spirit energy photographers deal with. No matter how you spin it, MMA is a dangerous sport. It's one of the only sports where you enter a cage and what happens in there could cause death to become a reality. If the grim reaper was a sports fan, I'm sure he'd be lurking at MMA events. That might sound gruesome, but that's exactly what makes MMA one of the most exciting sports out today. Fighters are putting their lives on the line. Sure they're well-trained and surrounded by trainers, referees and paramedics who know exactly what to do if something goes wrong, but that doesn't eliminate the possibility.

What I enjoy most from photographing MMA is watching how quickly a fighter's closed off "negative" energy can turn to euphoric "positive" energy after they've won the fight and had their hand raised in victory. The same fighter who shot me an icy glare of negative energy just moments before the fight is now wagging his tongue in my lens wanting to be a star. And, of course, I oblige and generously snap away.

So the next time you're at an event and you see a big lens pointed your way, think twice about the type of energy you're giving off. Why not make it easy on the photographer and send some positive energy their way. I'm sure they'll really appreciate it.

Find your gift -- explore, compare & celebrate in striving toward the "higher standard"

After watching the 2012 summer Olympics, I can't help but look at some of these athletes and think, I could do that. I mean, give me six months of good training with the right diet, coaching and vitamins, and I could compete with those guys. Sure, right? Then reality hits and you realize those athletes are physically gifted. Personally, I think everyone has a gift or two they can share with the world throughout their lifetime. You just have to figure out what it is and don't be afraid to fail while trying new things.

As a kid, I grew up watching legendary Seattle Supersonics point guard Gary Payton drop dimes all over Key Arena. When I watched him on the court, he looked like a dwarf on TV in comparison to NBA's big men. To see The Glove driving to the hoop against Shaq, he looked like a kid, but in person he's 6' 4". In person these dwarfish-looking point guards are massive men. I still remember meeting Sonics shooting guard Ricky Pierce in the SeaTac airport. Pierce never looked like a big guy on TV, but in person he towered over the average man and packed more muscle than I ever imagined. Yes, those guys are gifted physically.

But just the physical gift isn't enough. You have to put in work. This year I remember listening to UFC's mixed martial arts fighter Tito Ortiz on a radio show saying something about how he's a fighter from the time he gets up to the time he goes to bed. When some guy comes up to him at a bar and thinks he can take him on, he said that guy is out of his mind because he doesn't live fighting the way Ortiz does. He probably works a 9-5, makes it to the gym three days a week and fights with his buddies on the weekends, but that doesn't mean he has what it takes to beat up an MMA fighter who trains professionally full time to kick ass.

But don't git me wrong, being gifted and putting in the work isn't only for athletes. Obviously, not everyone is athletically gifted. Some people are musically gifted. Take Maroon 5 front man Adam Levine for example. I recently watched him mentor a competitor on the show The Voice. When I heard the contestant struggle to sing the song and then Adam nailed it on the first try, it's obvious why he's the star. Some might say one's gift comes from having good genes. You know, if your mom an dad were great athletes, then you'll be a great athlete. If you mom and dad can sing, then you can sing. Sure, that helps, but it's not all genetics. A few years back there was another competition show that paired children of music stars against each other. Kenny Loggins son Crosby Loggins won the MTV show Rock The Cradle in 2008. When they came out and sang Kenny's hit "I'm Alright" together, it was obvious that young Crosby had gotten some of his dad's legendary talent, but he wasn't gifted vocally like Kenny. He couldn't carry the song and make it a hit the way Kenny did.

For me, it was like listening to J-Lo sing a duet with Marc Anthony. Sure, J-Lo had the chops needed to sing well enough to put together a hook for a great dance song, but put her on stage with Marc and there's no comparison about who received the vocal gift. Luckily, she has other gifts. That little pib squeak Marc Anthony can sure sing!

Some people are lucky enough to receive multiple gifts. Take Wonder Years star Danica McKeller (aka.Winnie Cooper). Anyone my age remembers Danica. Who didn't have a crush on the doe eyed Winnie Cooper back in the 90s? I thought Fred Savage was the luckiest kid in the world to have a shot at kissing Winnie. Since then, Winnie has grown up. She's not only still beautiful and physically gifted with the body to turn heads, she's also studied mathematics a graduated summa cum laude from UCLA in 1998. Since then she has written several books about math.

I think the problem most people have with finding their gift is that we all hold ourselves to a higher standard. In fact, the highest standard. If we jump in a pool and don't automatically swim like Olympian Michael Phelps, then we're no good and we're a failure. In my world, I'm constantly comparing myself to others. Some of my sports photos are pretty great and some people say I have a gift at capturing a moment, but I always look at them and know they're not quite as good as the guy who shoots for the Herald. Some of my portrait work has turned out pretty awesome, but it doesn't compare to the guys who are published in magazines.

I think we have to realize there are differing levels of success in any venture we explore. If you feel you have a gift, then you do. Use it for all it's worth and be confident that the results will continue improving the more you do it. When I do a portrait photo shoot these days, I tell the model that it's not just me creating the art. Together we create something and allowing that piece of art to be seen and judged by others is a challenge. It's not easy for the model and it's not easy for me either. But I'm not afraid to try. I'm not afraid to hold myself to that higher standard.

Yesterday I watched a 20 year old on the Today Show talk about some sort of computer program he's working with to create art and how when people try new things, they automatically hold themselves to this higher standard. We expect greatness right away. If I pick up a guitar and can't play like Carlos Santana, then I'm a failure. His suggestion was to fail quick and move on. Not sure I exactly agree with what he was saying, but it does have its merits. We shouldn't be afraid to try new things, search for our gifts and grow from each comparison we can make to greatness. Some gifts are obvious from the time you're born. Michael Phelps was destined to swim for Olympics golds, but even he will face the challenge of discovering his next great gift. Even he will face comparisons to the higher standard we face every day. Hopefully we all can accept that next challenge, improve on our gifts and celebrate in our comparisons to greatness.

Failure isn't scary...It's just another opportunity for success

When I wake up in the morning, drink my coffee and enjoy my daily visit to my Facebook page, I always notice posts about failure. It seems that everyone is afraid to fail these days. We're consumed with failure, yet we all do it. Any attempt at anything is really just another opportunity for failure. To fear failing seems silly. We'd never try anything if we let our fear of failing control us.

One post today mentioned failures by Michael Jordan, The Beatles, Eminem, Steve Jobs and Walt Disney; some of the most successful people of the last century. Without failure, there would never be success. In reality, our lives are all filled with countless small failures, but that shouldn't prevent us from trying new things. Fresh and new challenges are what make our lives richer and more fulfilling.

Don't fear failing. Instead, embrace each potential failure as a new opportunity for success...:)

Seems like a nice day to try and be nice, eh?

If nice guys finish last, then why is it so important for us to feel like we're nice? I mean, it seems like everyone wants to be perceived as a nice person, but very few of us go out of our way to do the things needed to be rewarded with the nice descriptor.

Dictionary.com's first definition describes nice as: pleasing; agreeable; delightful: a nice visit. Personally, I usually try to be pleasing with those I encounter, but I'm not always agreeable, and I'm certainly not always delightful. Come to think of it, I'm pretty much just 1/3 nice most of the time. And if you catch me in a bad mood, my ability to be pleasing goes out the window and I'm pretty much not nice at all.

Maybe that's why when I got into a recent discussion about who were the nicest men in my circle of friends, I didn't find myself at the top of many "lists". I guess it's to be expected, but that doesn't mean I feel any better about straddling that bottom rung of my friend's niceness lists.

Come to think of it, maybe I really am nice in the grand scheme of niceness, but I'm just surrounded by some really nice friends. Ya, that sounds about right.

I guess being nice is like anything else, you have to work at it to be really great. We have to learn to practice all three stages of niceness and eventually we'll work our way up those lists to the top positions. Well, just add niceness to the long list of things I aspire to be. If we didn't have hopes, dreams and aspirations, we'd have nothing.

When it comes to niceness, let's all agree to take it one day at a time. For today, let's forget about living life and prospering. And let's just try to be nice...:) You know, pleasing, agreeing and delighting. Something tells me it's gonna be a long day.

Perception creates reality -- Live in it to the fullest

It seems that life is a lot about perception these days. We perceive people to be a certain way and hope our friends, family and loved ones live up to our perceptions. When they don't, we often end up confused. It throws us for a loop and our initial perceptions often change. It seems perceptions and reality constantly differ and we're all too often left wondering why we had our initial thoughts in the first place.


Dictionary.com defines perception as: the act or faculty of apprehending by means of the senses or of the mind; cognition; understanding.


I like to think I'm pretty in touch with my senses, but as soon as one isn't firing on all cylinders, my perception of people and situations get all mixed up. I imagine that's the same for lots of folks. If you have a cold and your sense of smell isn't working, you might walk into a situation and not be able to "smell what the Rock is cookin'". Duane Johnson would then commence to lay down and old-fashioned smack down on your candy ass and it's all because you weren't fully in touch with your senses.


If you think about it, we often take our five senses for granted. Of course vision, hearing, taste, smell and touch are important to our existence as human beings, but they also create the experiences we have in our lives, so keeping them sharp is paramount. 


But how often do we really exercise our senses. No, we take them for granted. We expect that each morning when we get up, we'll be able to reach over, touch that alarm clock and turn that snooze button on for another five minutes of zzzs. It's only when our body fails us that our senses come to mind. When we wake up with a cold and that morning coffee doesn't taste as good, we complain.


I guess what I'm trying to say is that our initial perceptions create the enviornment we live in every day. Our senses can provide us with valuable information about people, places and things that enter our lives. So listen to those senses, live in each moment and don't be scared if your perception turns out to differ from what it seems. It makes life more interesting.

It's all about the Benjimans baby -- moments vs. things

I keep seeing posts on Facebook reminding me that life should be about collecting moments and not things, but as much as I love that idea, I think I just really like things. I mean, don't we all? We all want nice clothes, nice cars, nice houses, nice boats, nice watches, nice electronics, nice furniture. Hell, new words are still being invented just so that we can be completely "swagged" out from head to toe with the finest new things. While my swag factor is undoubtedly sub par, I think society's emphasis on things over moments is nothing new.

I mean, who really does anything without being rewarded these days? Well, at least without the potential for reward. People want to work, get paid and buy stuff. You know, collect things. Just to have them. Just to look at. Just to show off to the next guy. I recently had a conversation with an old high school buddy and this topic came up. He mentioned that he had recently become an activist of sorts and his life was becoming about more than just "things". Of course, I was able to read between the lines. What he was "really" saying is that he he recently separated and his wife took half his things. I could be wrong, but I doubt it.

P.Diddy/Puff Daddy got it all right when he sang that it's All About The Benjimans. We all want to be ballers and shot callers. We collect those dead presidents from the time we're born until the time we die. It's just our way of life. Western culture creates that expectation and if we're not rich, then we're not successful. Who wants to be rich in memories, when we can have stacks of benjimans lining our wallets? You can't go out to Anthony's waterfront restaurant and pay with memories, but you can order a hell of a steak dinner to eat with a tremendous view if your pockets are over flowin' with greenbacks.

Maybe it's just the cynic in me coming out. Maybe I do selfless acts all the time and my mind is not dreamin' about collecting dinero, but something tells me my fascination with things will haunt me until my dying days. When the reaper comes to take me away, the under keeper won't be there to collect my memories. He'll collect the last of my coin and maybe ask if there's an estate sale because he too probably wants a shot at buying the rest of my things. Hey, to the victor goes the spoils and he who dies with the most toys, wins.

Teach me to give a shit; School me in the advanced course

It seems that so much of life is just pretending like you give a shit. You know, when your boss tells you how important something is, you're supposed to give a shit about working hard for his bottom line. When your partner's new friends tell you all about their exciting lives, you're supposed to look at them, interject a poignant "is that right?" and a heartfelt "oh really?" to show you truly care. That's just the way it's supposed to be. Well, it seems I have a hard time with that.

After a certain amount of time, I just get tired of listening to my boss drone on and on about why I should work harder and more efficiently for their benefit. And I can only stand listening to the new friend's stories for so long before my eyes glaze over and I just don't give a shit anymore. I'm sure that's probably why my jobs never really worked out and I'm currently self employed. But I find myself wondering how all you guys do it. Day in and day out, you sit there in your little cubicles pretending to give a shit so that you get your piddly paycheck every two weeks your obligatory two weeks of vacation every year.

We all know everything can be taught. If that's the case, then I think there definitely needs to be a college course on pretending to give a shit, and I undoubtedly need to take it. In fact, there should also be an advanced course on maintaining your give-a-shit attitude. Sign me up for that one as well. Hell, I think what I need is to declare my major in giving a shit and get my PHD to make it in this world. Yes, my life would be much different if only I could learn to give a shit.

I just don't care enough about certain things. Don't get me wrong, I do have the ability to feel emotion. When Rudy finally gets on the field in the classic movie and makes that tackle on the quarterback, my heart swells with pride for the underdog and my eyes weep with joy for the victor. But I don't really give a shit when it comes to what happened to Rudy after college and whether he's still with his college sweetheart. It appears that there's a very short window of time on my ability to give a shit.

My guess is that some day I'll figure it out. Some day it'll all make sense to me. I'll have an amazing epiphany that truly rocks my soul to the core. The light will hit me in the face and my brain will wake up, all my senses will work as one, and I will realize the importance of giving a shit. Of course, by then I'll probably be too old to REALLY give a shit. Well, you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. Either way, the results are pretty much the same. We're doomed. How's that for shot full of pessimism this morning. Don't be afraid, shoot up!

Got your plan set? Well, I've got mine. I have none!

Ever meet those people who have to set a plan for everything? They're always asking ...What's your plan for today? What's your plan for this week? What's your plan for this month? What's your plan for this year? What's your plan for this second? Well, you get the point.

Personally, sometimes I think it's best to operate without a plan. I'm not "technically" a religious person, but sometimes I do believe that my life is predetermined and God, or whoever it is that put together my plan, has it all charted out for me. I'm sure if there is a God, then he certainly has a woman in his life doing all the planning for each and every one of his creations. So why would I need to worry about my plan for every last second when it's already in place.

I've found that if you live life that way, it takes a ton of the worry out of it. You can just live in the moment and cruise through your predetermined events enjoying each one as they come. So far, things have seemed to fall into place for me, but when a friend of mine asked me what my plan was for my 36th year on this good earth, I wasn't about to tell her I didn't have one. You know how certain friends expect bigger and better things out of you each and every year? You know those friends we call women. Well, she's one of them and I've learned to respect her opinion over the years. I'm not quite sure what she's thinking all the time and I like that. It makes friends more interesting.

Kidding aside, when my friend asked me my plan, I actually thought for a second about establishing a grand plan this year. I was gonna get started the next day with my pen and pad, carefully writing down all my hopes and dreams and then crossing them off one at a time. But then I realized my life just doesn't work like that. Life isn't a plan. Life is what happens between the plans. So, in theory, I guess I just answered her question. What's my plan for my 36th year? My plan is to continue living in every last moment between everyone else's plans. I'm not saying those of you who go plan crazy are wrong. I'm just saying, think about my way of doing things and when it's all said and done, we'll see who has more fun.

The Kid Is Not My Son...What!!!

My little trip down memory lane in yesterday's birthday blog got me to thinking. Ya, sometimes those two brain cells stop rattling around long enough to create a thought. So I was thinking about how different we view our lives as adults than we did as children.

For example, I loved Michael Jackson as a child. I cut his pictures out of magazines, bought his stickers, posters, school folders and so on. But I never thought twice about the words he actually sang. In Billie Jean, when Michael sang:


People Always Told Me Be Careful Of What You Do
And Don't Go Around Breaking Young Girls' Hearts
And Mother Always Told Me Be Careful Of Who You Love
And Be Careful Of What You Do 'Cause The Lie Becomes The Truth

I never thought twice about what he was actually singing. The song had a good beat. Michael sang the hell out of it and danced in the video like a boss. That was all that mattered. But is that really all that mattered? Michael poured his heart out and all I could do was dance around like a little fool. Mike sang on, but I didn't listen. I was too busy trying to learn how to moon walk. He sang:

Billie Jean Is Not My Lover
She's Just A Girl Who Claims That I Am The One
But The Kid Is Not My Son

What! You mean Michael had real girl troubles? And a real son that he denied? Was this Michael's confession? Did he set the stage for R. Kelly's In The Closet tirades and Usher's continual confessions. Ya, Mike was ahead of his time. 

According to Wikipedia, the song was either about a mentally-ill fan who claimed Michael had fathered one of her twins. Is it even possible to father just one twin? Or, as Michael says, the song was about the groupies he encountered. 

To me, it was just a cool video where the sidewalk lit up and allowed me to escape to a place where bow ties were cool. I could get down with that, but babies, deranged fans and groupies never even crossed my mind. 

I guess the life of an adult is far more complex than a child. We learn about relationships and suddenly a great pop song turns from toe tapper to a mind trapper. I try not to get too caught up in adulthood, but I do listen to lyrics more these days. I take the time to enjoy the little things in life. I hope you all can make time to enjoy the little things in your lives today and maybe try moon walking like a little fool again. Go ahead, put your socks on, hit that hardwood floor and try it. I dare you!

Happy Birthday To Me! Childhood & other memories...

Happy Birthday to me...:)

It seems the older I get, the more I think about my childhood.

Growing up in Lynnwood, I remember walks to the corner park with my mom and dad. I remember the freedom of playing in a cul-de-sac without constant parental supervision. I remember visiting my friends Trent & Troy and turning up Michael Jackson's Beat It as loud as their mom would allow and dancing like only kids do. Thriller and Billie Jean might have been the hits, but Beat It was our jam...:)

I remember Punky Brewster, Who's The Boss and the A-Team. B.A. Baracus was everyone's favorite. Who doesn't love a guy known for his "Bad Attitude". I remember watching my brother dominate in track & field at Edmonds High School and idolizing him as the athlete I would never be. I remember chasing my sister around the house when her friends came to visit as they locked me out and blasted Duran Duran's The Reflex and Hungary Like The Wolf. And even though I never did "ok" right (inside joke), I knew everything was okay between us.

I remember laying my head on my mom's lap before it was time for bed. I remember my dad getting up early to make school lunch and fix me a special omelet for breakfast. I remember family spaghetti dinners. Oh, how I love spaghetti. I remember family vacations and trips to Vancouver Island to visit my God parents Henri & Johanna. I remember when my brother came back from the Army and I couldn't stop wrestling with him on the floor. I remember summer trips to my grandparent's place in Oregon and fishing, skipping rocks and swimming in the creek.

When I think about it all now, it kind of comes as a big blur and leaves me feeling a bit nostalgic and teary eyed about how fast the time has gone. Adolescence was pretty easy for me as well. People always seemed to want to be my friend. The football players, the geeks, the nerds; they all had no issue befriending the quiet nice guy.

Now, as I struggle making money to pay two mortgages, keep my small business (menschoice.info) turning profit and finding time for friends and family, life still is pretty good. I make time to enjoy my hobby and take pictures when I can, and even share my work with a growing Facebook community. I have fans for goodness sake...haha I mean, of course everyone has their days, but I think my healthy childhood has set me up for a fulfilling adulthood.

Happy Birthday to me...:)

I think I'm gonna blast that 50 Cent song now about it being my birthday.

It's time to wake up some neighbors...haha

Katie Holmes -- Celebrity Detective -- The No Wit Sherlock

Sometimes the media cracks me up. Take the Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes divorce for example. The media can turn anything into a story. If you haven't followed it, I guess the latest news is that Katie had a "secret" disposable phone that she made the phone calls to her lawyer with and eventually called Tom to surprise him with the divorce news.

I mean, it's not like Katie is the next Sherlock Holmes or something. Well, at least I don't think there's a connection. They do share the last name. If you ask me, it's not a movie-worthy plot at all, but if you ask the media, it's the next big block buster. They write about it like it should be on the big screen -- How Katie Got Her Divorce. I guess if Tyler Perry can keep putting out movies dressed in drag as Madia, then Katie could possibly get a movie about her divorce.

It seems to me that it doesn't really take a genius to go pick up a disposable phone, does it? I mean, if drug dealers selling crack on the corner can figure it out, then surely a multi-million dollar celebrity can hire some schlub to pick one up for her. Maybe I just don't understand the strong hand of Tom Cruise.

After all, it's not like Katie is new to divorces. Her father is a divorce lawyer for goodness sake. With her daddy in her corner, and the best lawyers that Tom's money can buy secretly corresponding with her, it's no surprise to me that she got what she wanted and got it over and done with fast. Lesson learned Katie: I guess the Hollywood fantasy is never quite as good as the real story.

When I was younger, I wanted to fall in love and marry Alyssa Milano. We were both teenagers growing up together. Tony and Angela ran her world during the 80s on Who's the Boss and I never missed it. We lost touch a little during the 90s when she played a witch on Charmed, but I couldn't help but tune in now and then to watch my crush do her thang. Now, almost three decades later, all she does is bum me out with those super sad Unisef commercials where she begs for my change. Ya, I guess fairy tales don't always end up like you imagined.

If only Katie used her magnifying glass on Tom. Hey, now there's a great idea for a movie. Katie could star as a sexy, recently divorced 21st century detective who magnifies Hollywood's A-list celebrities to find all their flaws before her clients ruin their lives by marrying these egomanics. Hey, don't laugh! I bet it would at least fill the seats as much as Madia's last adventure.

Who's not coo-coo to taste Coco Puffs?

Okay, after dropping the F-word in my blog the other day, I had a talk with my mom yesterday and she thinks blog Brian shouldn't cuss. She thinks he should be like real life Brian and save curse words for when he really needs them.

Oh, she also thinks I listen to sexually explicit weird music that demeans women. Well, ya, doesn't everyone? My reply to that is ... well ... I think the most famous white rapper ever summed it up best when he rapped about what he thought record companies should do when they told him Will Smith didn't have to cuss to sell records.

Haha, kidding. I just wanted to imagine my mom and her 70-year-old friends googling Eminem lyrics. Either that or they're stuck watching Vanilla Ice on You Tube wondering why he's not rapping about Will Smith. Either way, it's funny. Go Ninja, Go Ninja, Go!

In all seriousness, I would never say that to my mother, but that doesn't mean blog Brian is going to stop dropping a few curse words every now and then whenever the FUCK he feels like it...haha. When I started blogging, I was clear that this blog is PG-13. If you're 13 years old and you haven't heard the F-Word. Well, that's not even a discussion worth having because it's an impossibility.

As for turning my back on sexually explicit "weird" music that "demeans" women. Well, I'm not about to do that either. I was raised on hip hop and it seems weird to me that people still aren't accepting of it. Mom should have known it's here to stay when she ponied up the money to buy me my first cassette. You know, the cassette tape that little rap trio Run DMC stunned the world with called Raising Hell. I've been Raising Hell ever since.

Just because Trick Daddy likes to sing about Sugar and goes "coo-coo to taste your Coco Puffs", does not mean he's any more perverted than any other red-blooded American man. I mean, we all dream about Coco Puffs. It's completely natural. You could be Andrea Bochelli and see that much.

Actually, I like this. I think I'm going to start blogging in code. I can just speak in rap lyrics and mom and her friends will have no idea what I'm talking about. If you think Mr. Trick Daddy raps dirty, just wait until I introduce you all to Ying Yang Twins' The Whisper Song. Oh, you're gonna love it! Be careful googling it or my blog might have to go from PG-13 to NC-17.

Don't Mess With My Toot Toot! Damn ear worms!

"Hello world, I'm with a yellow girl, number two pencil"...

You ever wonder why certain songs get stuck in your head? For the last week or so that line from Lil' Wayne's verse in B.O.B.'s song Strange Clouds has been stuck in my head. While I love the song, I can't stop from wondering if Wayne knew he had a great line when recording it. It seems I spend way too much time wondering about hip hop lyrics.

I guess when a song gets stuck in your head they call it an ear worm, a term I've read to be defined as involuntary imagery, or sounds, pictures, smells, and tastes that repeatedly come to mind. For me, it's always been music. 


I can remember this phenomenon from an early age when my parents played Barry Manilow's Copacabana. That song stuck in my head for days. Of course, it's not half as bad if you enjoy the song being repeated in your head all day. 


Unfortunately, I was usually tortured by such songs as Don Ho's Tiny Bubbles, the 80s country version of Don't Mess With My Toot Toot and, of course, we can't forget about Billy Ray Cyrus's Achy Breaky Heart.

I double dog dare you to listen to that Toot Toot song and not be singing it all day. Damn ear worms! Do you have an ear worm worth listening to? If so, please share.

Oh, how about this one: "You spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round." Your welcome. Hey, at least it's better than Toot Toot...:)

Past - Future -- Fuck ups join me for expletive release

It seems I think a lot about going back in time to change things. Why I do that, I'm not quite sure. I think it's natural. However, I only have to take a quick trip through my Facebook friend's posts to realize we shouldn't dwell on our past, but rather focus on our future. There's millions of posts about that. Almost everyone agrees that's the best way to handle things.

But, if you ask me -- which you did by default of reading my blog -- it just sounds like I'm friends with a lot of fuck ups. I guess that means I'm a bit of a fuck up as well. Aren't we all? Ya, I said it. Oh, BTW, I've decided blog Brian is going to cuss more. Why have a blog if you can't drop a few expletives now and then. Am I right? I mean, I rarely cuss in person, but in my mind I'm doing it all the time, so why not let them fly in a blog. It makes life more interesting.

Speaking of cussing, I was at a house warming party and a friend of mine joined the crowd and someone asked him about a business that had done a bad job for him and made him look bad. He said out loud to everyone that they had fucked up. It seemed harsh at the time, and someone censored the comment when repeating it while inquiring for more details, but we all knew there's a big difference between a mess up and a fuck up. Come to find out, the latter means they're not getting hired again.

My advice for y'all this week is to find the right time and place to drop a few expletives and be okay with it. We all know we're not worried about the past, so we might as well start giving a fuck about the future. Oh, it feels good to be blog Brian. Can't stop, won't stop!

Brian Kingsberry's Blog: Cruise - Travolta - The Ultimate Pants Off, Dance ...

Brian Kingsberry's Blog: Cruise - Travolta - The Ultimate Pants Off, Dance Off Contest 

Cruise - Travolta - The Ultimate Pants Off, Dance Off Contest

So, after yesterday's sub par blog, where I babbled incessant nonsense about heath care, I decided I was going to scour the internet for all the facts and come back today with my educated, well-informed take on Obama's plan and the senate's decision to declare it constitutional. But, lucky for you, TomKat filed for divorce, so it'll have to wait. Thank God!

Yep, after five years and one child (Suri) Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes called it quits yesterday, stating irreconcilable differences. What married couple doesn't have those? When I heard about the split, it didn't surprise me, but it did get me thinking a little about how perfect their little union started and ended. The rumor that I've always heard was that Tom Cruise is gay and Katie signed a marriage contract to work as his beard after ticket sales declined and his career took a minor dip. It seems very strange that after five years, the typical length of any Hollywood contract, their marriage dissolves. Sad, yes, but the good news is that this means Katie is now a free agent. And, better yet, so is Tom.

You all know what I'm thinking, right? You don't? Well, let me get out my blank canvas and brushes to paint a glorious picture for you. Check that, a FAB-U-LOUS picture. Imagine if you will, the most powerful gay couple the world has ever known. Forget Elton and David, Neil and David, or even Ellen and Porshe. What if Tom literally reached out to help Mr. John Travolta with his recent penchant for strong male masseurs? Imagine if those two got together and blossomed a romance that would undoubtedly shock the world. While the chances of that actually happening is admittedly slim, I'd love to see two middle aged movie stars find love together.

Speaking of things I'd love to see happen. One of my Facebook friends recently posted something described as a Pants Off, Dance Off Contest between some friends. While there were no specific details, and I'm not even entirely sure what a Pants Off, Dance Off Contest actually is, I certainly would show up to watch if I was invited. I mean, ever since I read that, I can't help but say Pants Off, Dance Off over and over in my head. It's the most catchy name for a contest every. Am I right?

It's so catchy in fact that I'm convinced I could probably make a million dollars if I actually set up a real Pants Off, Dance Off Contest and sent out invitations to 1 million men, charging just $1 for entry. I mean, what man could resist paying a buck to see a Pants Off, Dance Off Contest. It's genius!!! Okay, quick, get my party planner on the phone right away. Wait, what's that you say. You mean I don't have a party planner or anywhere to host a million party people. Oh, the shame...:(

Okay, we'll have to take it to the streets. I can see the headlines in the Seattle Times now: Pants Off, Dance Off Contest takes over downtown streets. Tom Cruise and John Travolta led a group of 1 million men down the streets of Seattle yesterday to celebrate their union as the greatest gay power couple in the world. The only question that remains is who would be the winner -- Cruise or Travolta? I guess we'll have to wait and see. Hey, it could happen...:)

Health Care, Ann Curry & Integrity ... what a combo!

So, I've come to realize that this blogging thing isn't as easy as I thought it would be. Coming up with fun and interesting stuff to write about on a daily basis can be tough. Take today for instance. I could write about Obama and health care...boring. I could write about Ann Curry leaving the Today Show...naw Or I could write about integrity...maybe. Or I could write about all three...Yep, lucky you!


As someone who rarely gets sick and hasn't been to the hospital in years, I find that I don't really have much to say about health care. Of course, if I were to get sick, I'm sure my opinions would change. As someone who is self employed, I guess health care should be more of an issue for me, but it's not. There are supplemental health care programs you can buy into...I think. I see that crazy Aflac duck on TV all the time, so someone must be using it. Okay, truthfully, I'm not going to write about something I know nothing about. Now I know I really should pick up a newspaper and figure out what's going on with health care. Naw, the way I figure, there's someone a lot smarter than me figuring it all out for me. 


Which leads me to Ann Curry leaving the Today Show. It's hard for me to feel sorry for journalists on TV who sign multi-million dollar contracts and then cry when the network lets them go. Sure Ann is cougarific and does a great job, but everyone has a shelf life. Hell, even Regis is gone and the younger, cuter Kelly Ripa has moved on without him. She got a new set, is starting a new search for a replacement and the show goes on. It's a little like a pro athlete or rock star getting cut from the team or kicked out of the band. You only have a short window to earn that dough, so you better perform or you'll be replaced. I'm sure NBA star Dennis Rodman knew that he better pull down rebounds or he'll be cut from the squad and earning peanuts playing in Europe. Guns & Roses drummer Steven Adler knew that if he partied too hard, and it affected the band's dough, then someone else would come in to bang the drums. When it comes to the almighty dollar, nobody is safe.


Finally, let's talk about integrity. Dictionary.com defines it as adherence to moral and ethical principles; soundness of moral character; honesty. Truthfully, I think a lot about integrity these days and try to live my life adhering to the moral and ethical principles I've set for myself. While I realize that my principles are usually far more lax than the typical person, I still think that if you say you're going to do something, then do it. If you say you're going to be somewhere, then be there. Don't give your word and then break it an hour later. If we all could live our lives with a little more integrity, then our lives would be richer and more rewarding.

Hustling, Rage & More Basketball Dreams

Okay, this week I have my nose to the grindstone working hard to list hundreds of new clothing items into my eBay store (www.menschoice.info). Last Thanksgiving I told my family I was thankful that my parents instilled a little "hustler" mentality to all their kids. Don't get my wrong, by hustler, I don't mean we push pills on the corner, but we've all got our own little businesses and work hard to make them profitable enough to earn a living or reward us with a little extra dough.

Turns out the dough has been tough to come by the last few years, but I keep holding on to my dream of self employment. For me, the greatest joy in my life right now is being my own boss. I make my own hours, nobody tells me what to do and I answer to nobody, except the tax man -- he gets us all. I've been self-employed for the last 7 years now and time flies when you got your nose to the grindstone. It's not that life is passing me by, but life is definitely passing (insert Ferris Bueller quote here).

Lately, I've been filled with a little more rage than usual when I see these guys on the corner with their cardboard signs begging for my hard-earned deniro. With all the opportunities for work we have in the United States, and President Obama creating new jobs for us at an increasing rate, why do these guys still choose to stand on the corner and mooch off the working man. I guess I'll never have an answer to that.

So, I had another basketball dream last night. Charlie Cobb didn't appear this time, but this time I was on the bench for Lynden Christian High School and they were getting slaughtered in the state championship game. I didn't have the right uniform on and time was ticking away, but the coach finally put me in the game and I got the ball under the hoop and missed two lay ups, getting my rebound both times, before I put it back to score. I did the same thing on the next possession before finishing the game with a three-pointer and scoring 7 points in a losing effort. Something tells me my subconscious is telling me to try and try again, and never give up. Okay, if I must. Back to work...:)

Damn you Charlie Cobb. Get out of my dreams!!!

Okay, my freshman and sophomore years of high school I was cut from the basketball team. While, I rarely think about it these days, my subconscious must be having a field day with it, because I have reoccurring dreams about head coach Charlie Cobb and the try-out process. Maybe it's my subconscious telling me I shouldn't have given up on my dream of playing high school basketball in order to concentrate on track after being cut sophomore year, or maybe it's something more. Whatever it is, I can't figure out why ole Charlie keeps haunting me in my dreams.

As I think about it more, I wonder if Charlie is trying to tell me that my life has more to offer the world than running a successful online clothing store. Do I really want to be known as the guy who moves enough clothes online to pay the bills, or am I destined for something more? As I think back on it now, I came into freshman year a scrawny 5' 2" runt. I had some ball handling skills, but I can understand why Charlie and his crew passed on me. By sophomore year, I sprouted up to about 5' 5" and added some speed after lettering in track as a freshman, but that year the Gish twins transferred from private school and the Cascade football team won the state championship, so any hope of a spot on the squad was stolen by those sharp shooting twins and far more husky football players earning reward from sophomore Coach Nickelson.

Ya, luck definitely wasn't on my side. By junior year, the dream was practically over. I was pigeon holed into runner status and we all know coaches aren't about to put a cross country runner at point guard when there was a kid working year round for that position. Truth be told, I probably wasn't good enough. I make excuses now, but maybe I didn't work hard enough for the job.

Since then, a lot of opportunities have come my way and I've managed marginal success at some, but I've also managed to botch a lot of them. As I approach middle age, new opportunities are bound to cross my path and I'm sure Charlie Cobb is going to keep appearing in my dreams. It's just the way it goes. Truthfully, I guess I didn't REALLY give up on basketball. I kept playing pick up through high school and college. I eventually dunked a basketball when I was 19. I practiced with the community college squad at Everett and kept up with the best of them.

Lesson learned: There's potential in all of us. It's just a matter of fostering that potential into something great.

It seems cliche to say that you should never give up on your dreams, but, looking back, I should have never given up on my dream. Follow your passion and don't let any number of Gish twins or husky football players stand in your way. Forge on and Charlie will notice you.

A few years after high school, I saw ole Charlie watching the Marysville-Pilchuck baseball team one spring afternoon when I was working for The Globe as a sports reporter. I didn't have to introduce myself. Turns out ole Charlie remembered the scrawny kid who chased his dream for a few years in his gym. Even in failure, you're able to impact people's lives. Keep striving for excellence people. In the long run, it'll pay off.

Oh ya, and if there's a little peppercorn in your salt shaker, don't fret because it just adds more flavor to your meal.

Alec Baldwin, I can't quit you...haha

So, I had dinner with some friends last night who don't have cable. Can you believe it? Yep, there are still people who choose not to have cable. Don't get me wrong. They're not the wooden cabin, off the grid type of people. I mean, they have internet access and get their fill of Thirty Rock online, but I realized they miss out on all the crazy stuff Alec Baldwin is doing in his "real" life.

Ya, it became apparent to me last night that I'm the one who watches too much television. Well, at least the one out of the foursome at dinner last night. I guess they're just happy knowing Alec as his wise cracking character Jack Donaghy and not that raging egomaniac who writes a divorce book for men after his nasty divorce with Kim Bassinger, calls his kid a fat pig in a voice mail, gets kicked off planes for arguing with the flight attendant when he didn't want to turn off his phone and beats up on the paparazzi for getting too close. Ya, as much as I love the on-tv Alec, and enjoy his handsome look and stellar acting on the big screen, his off-screen antics make me think he's not such a good guy.

Hell, who am I to cast judgment? I mean, a lot of people judge me before ever talking to me and I hate that. Why do people do that anyway? I guess we've all become accustomed to judging people. Maybe it's our thirst for details about celebrities' lives that ultimately leads us to cast quick judgments. I mean, if Joan Rivers wasn't so quick to crack a joke about celebrity outfits on Fashion Police, would we really care if Gwen Steffani or Alyssa Millano wore the dress better?

The answer? Of course we would. The truth is that we care about Gwen and Alyssa. We want them to look stellar on the red carpet and accessorize with the right shoes, jewelry and handbags. Wait, what's that you say? You mean it's only me? Damn you pop culture. You've got a hold on me and I can't stop watching. The reality is that I love reality tv. I want to know which Teen Mom ends of graduating and who ends up in rehab. I care about Flava Flav and want him to meet a sexy young woman capable of fulfilling his desires. Ray-J, Bret Michaels and Antonio Sabato Jr. deserve love too and I need to watch it.

Okay, obviously we all have our issues and mine have become more apparent the more I write here this morning, but I encourage all those Americans out there who have cut the cable to save a few bucks, or regain their sanity, to get back on the crazy train. You deserve it. I mean, Alec isn't going to be around forever. He's getting married again and will likely be raising a new little fat piglet real soon. Don't blame him. Embrace him for all his zanny off-screen antics. Judge not less ye be judged. And, for goodness sake, if it doesn't make it to cable, please post it to You Tube. I just can't get enough!!!

Chirping birds and sexual innuendo

So, I've decided the chirping of the birds on this glorious summer morning is only as glorious as that one shrill little bird wants it to be. But who am I to criticize. I don't know anything about this bird. Maybe it's out of practice. Maybe it's papa bird left the nest when they were born and this cute little guy wasn't trained how to sing like the rest of the crew. Whatever it is, when that one little bird is a little off, it can really mess with your morning.

Given that the morning started off a little out of tune, maybe it's time to bring up the emergence of the white rapper. Lately, I've been noticing a lot of white rappers stepping up to give it a go on the mic. You know, writing a rhyme, finding some beats and posting a video on You Tube or Facebook to try and make it big. As a fan of rap music, I can appreciate their craft, but let's be clear -- not every kid should try. Some kids are better listening  than recording. It's still fun though.

Sometimes I still try to write poetry and it ends up sounding like a bad rap song. It rhymes all too well and somehow any semblance of cleverness is lost in the rhymes. But that doesn't stop me. I'm convinced that what I'm lacking is a good sexual innuendo. Ya, I said it. Sexual innuendo is the key to a hit these days.

I'm convinced that rappers just sit around the studio thinking about different ways to rhyme about their private parts. A few years back Fifty Cent had his "Magic Stick" and Lil' Wayne had "Lollipop". Now Flo Rida is rhymin' about blowing his "Whistle". And don't even get me started about Rhianna and Chris Brown blowing out the candles on her "Birthday Cake". Yep, sexual innuendo paves the road to success. And the dirtier the better.

Let's put it this way, I think I might just start writing down every hidden little sexual innuendo that comes to mind. If I come up with a great one, and it's dirty enough to catch your ear, yet clean enough to get on the air waves, I might just get rich. So, don't be surprised if some day you see me on You Tube with the other white boys. If you do, please have mercy on me.

Come on, there's room for a 36-year-old white guy along side Fifty, Wayne, Flo Rida and Rhianna. Okay, maybe not, but any chance to get me next to Rhianna on stage will work. Okay, okay, enough with the mid-life fantasies. I admit it, it sounds like I'm one of those kids who is better off listening to rap music than recording it. Man, I just squashed my dream before it even started. Well, I guess I'm just destined to be like that little bird singing out of tune.

SAD or HAPPY...Let's all go on vacation!!!

So yesterday one of my Facebook friends posted something about Seasonal Affective Disorder. Living in Washington, I figured we all have a slight case of that, but who wants to medicate if you don't need to, right? Well, I got to thinking and wondering exactly what SAD was, so I looked it up. It's kinda funny to me that the acronym is SAD. It's described by Wikipedia as winter depression, winter blues, summer depression, summer blues, or seasonal depression. It's a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms in the winter or summer, spring or autumn year after year.


Yep, I got it. Oh well, I bet if I looked up 100 other disorders, I'd be convinced I had at least half of those too. That's why I stay off of Wikipedia. I'm convinced that too much learnin' gets you in trouble...:) I do my best to stay a little stupid. And I'm damn good at it too. There's less trouble that way. I certainly don't wanna be too smart for my own good. My smartness definitely supercedes my goodness. Or was it the other way around?


As someone who searches for the silver lining in any predicament, I was thinking that all of us with SAD should just sit down and write songs. If Radiohead and Beck can make hits like Creep and Loser, I'm convinced that us Washingtonians could use the blues to take over the charts. 


Then again, maybe the airwaves don't need any more songs about depression. How about we just listen to Jack Johnson and wish we were vacationing in Hawaii? Better yet, start saving those pennies and lets plan a vacation. We could all go together and call it: Hawaii And Plan Parties Yippee-Kiya, or HAPPY. Damn, I'm clever. Truthfully, it took me about 10 minutes to come up with that. Sounds like my dumbness is superceding my smartness big time this morning. I guess solving mental health disorders isn't as easy as I thought. If only a clever acronym was the trick. Well, keep your heads up Washingtonians. Our two months of summer is here. Let's make the most of it. 

SAD or HAPPY ... Let's go on vacation!!!

So yesterday one of my Facebook friends posted something about Seasonal Affective Disorder. Living in Washington, I figured we all have a slight case of that, but who wants to medicate if you don't need to, right? Well, I got to thinking and wondering exactly what SAD was, so I looked it up. It's kinda funny to me that the acronym is SAD. It's described by Wikipedia as winter depression, winter blues, summer depression, summer blues, or seasonal depression. It's a mood disorder in which people who have normal mental health throughout most of the year experience depressive symptoms in the winter or summer, spring or autumn year after year.


Yep, I got it. Oh well, I bet if I looked up 100 other disorders, I'd be convinced I had at least half of those too. That's why I stay off of Wikipedia. I'm convinced that too much learnin' gets you in trouble...:) I do my best to stay a little stupid. And I'm damn good at it too. There's less trouble that way. I certainly don't wanna be too smart for my own good. My smartness definitely supercedes my goodness. Or was it the other way around?


As someone who searches for the silver lining in any predicament, I was thinking that all of us with SAD should just sit down and write songs. If Radiohead and Beck can make hits like Creep and Loser, I'm convinced that us Washingtonians could use the blues to take over the charts. 


Then again, maybe the airwaves don't need any more songs about depression. How about we just listen to Jack Johnson and wish we were vacationing in Hawaii? Better yet, start saving those pennies and lets plan a vacation. We could all go together and call it: Hawaii And Plan Parties Yippee-Kiya, or HAPPY. Damn, I'm clever. Truthfully, it took me about 10 minutes to come up with that. Sounds like my dumbness is superceding my smartness big time this morning. I guess solving mental health disorders isn't as easy as I thought. If only a clever acronym was the trick. Well, keep your heads up Washingtonians. Our two months of summer is here. Let's make the most of it. 

Death Before Dishonor

I just finished up photographing the United We Stand mixed martial arts fights in Lummi. One thing I always enjoy about the fights is the body art on the fighters. I'm convinced that fighters take their purse straight to the tattoo artist for fresh ink. It seems with each new fight there's something new to enjoy.

As someone with no tattoos, I can still respect the art and message these fighters are trying to convey. One tattoo that caught my eye and got me thinking this week was United We Stand Middleweight Champ Ty Jameson's chest piece that states Death Before Dishonor.

At first, I figured it's just something bad ass to put on your chest to intimidate opponents. But the more I got to thinking about it, the more I realized that honor is paramount in native communities. Elders receive respect above all else. They're not forgotten, but rather celebrated. That's something where I think white culture falls short.

The last few years I've had a "friend" turn their back on me. When you share something in confidence and they hold it against you for years, that's always something that's hard to take. Obviously, that's enough to make the friendship end, but maybe death is a bit much. It's definitely enough to wish a flurry of punches from Jameson on them. If only it was that easy.

I guess the message from all this is to honor your friends, honor your family and honor your elders. If not, you never know who might be wishing death on you. And who needs that kind of bad karma?

I've decided that people who say they live their lives without regret are full of sh---nizzle cookies. Ya, I said shnizzle cookies. After all, this blog is PG-13. I can write about marijuana and gay marriage, but excrement is off limits. For now anyways...:)

Back to my original thought. Life without regret isn't realistic if you ask me. We all have regrets. Denying them isn't healthy. Just admit it already. For me, my education is a bit of a regret. With graduation season in full swing, I can't help but think back on the five years I spent in college.

For four years I struggled determining what I wanted to major in, going from education, to English, to psychology, to journalism -- before eventually finishing with a General Studies Degree. That last year I spent trying to figure out how to get of of college with a diploma that might land me a job. It did, but not for long. Between the 8 a.m. classes and 2 a.m. club nights, college is just a big blur right now. Sometimes, it seems like such a small and insignificant part of my overall life.

It might seem like that, but the reality of it is that educational decisions are very important. All you graduates should take a few seconds, check that, days, weeks, months or years, to determine what to study and what your studies will eventually lead you to do in life. Trust me, you don't want to end up with regret. Good luck!

Seems like every year about this time Washington finally manages to string together enough sunny days to make me happy for more than half the day and I start to forget about moving away and spend a little time thinking about where my life has taken me in the last year.

This year has brought me lots of little joyful moments. As I get older (almost 36 now), I try to take the time to really enjoy these little moments. I try to live in the moment and enjoy every smile I get, every song I hear and every encounter that comes my way. Live life to the fullest. Why not, right? As a freelance photographer, these moments are often captured, so reflecting on them is always a joy.

Last month I went to the movies and a friend said he likes movies, but only if they finish with a happy ending. For me, I don't always need the happy ending to every moment. I like a story that has twists and turns, ups and downs, good and bad. That's life. That's how life is supposed to work out. In the end, if your story finishes with a happy ending, then you've been blessed. And if not, as long as you enjoy each little joyful moment to the fullest, you've been equally blessed.

As the people in my life experience both good and bad moments, I try to approach them with an open mind and open heart. I try to listen and respond as a good friend should, but I realize I'm not always as successful at this as I should be. I guess each year holds a new challenge. Whether you seek them out, or they just come your way, let's live these challenges to the fullest. I think I might just go search one out. I need a few more joyful moments...:)