Hakkuna Matata…

Hey, so I know I told ya’ll I was going to get better at keeping this updated like I once did, and as it turns out, I have been busier than I thought. School is drawing to a close and things might be changing next semester. I just had a second interview at the gym and hopefully that will happen, it would be nice to have another source of income. But school has just been getting crazy, even with two classes, they are both art classes, so the projects coming up in the end are beginning to scare me a bit. Especially having my portfolio done in time. Also, I guess San Fransisco Art Institute liked me because I got a call from them Friday and talked to the guy for about 45 minutes about the school and what to expect. I guess I was referred from my prof. now. So that would be a very good school and I would get awesome exposure. Only thing is, per unit the price is roughly 1,100 dollars. So we will see if i can even hack that. So keep it in your prayers. Along with the job situation. 

Also, I’m gonna throw this out here, if anyone is interested in  self portrait, I want to try and do some. There would be a slight fee, but I want to see if I  can start making progress with some of my art, and this was suggested. If your interested, contact me and I will give you the fine details. Have a good day. Peace. 

But I’m not sure how many of you read John Mayer’s blog. Well, I like to read it, when he posts stuff, which isn’t very often. But he had a good post, so I’m going to give him some credit and let you read it. Either here or you can go there. Only difference is here you don’t get to see his face while you read. You decide. But take the words to heart. Peace. 

I need to write this. 

I’ve been traveling alone in Japan for the better part of three weeks now, and It’s been so remarkable an experience for me that I can’t book a ticket home yet. I haven’t spoken very much out loud these days, but I’ve been thinking to myself in what feels like surround sound. I can see so many things clearly, and feel so connected to myself and the world around me that I need to share the perspective with you.

I’m already aware that when I sing, say or write anything, 50 percent of the response will be in support of it and the other 50 will want to discount it. This blog, though, is directed to 100 percent of people reading it. If my blog truly does have any cultural effect, then it should be used for more than just pictures of sneakers and funny youtube videos. (If you don’t think my blog has any effect, than you can’t by definition be reading this right now and therefore don’t have to respond to it in any way. Isn’t that tidy?)

What I’m about to write isn’t about fame or success or celebrity or the media. That’s my business.

This is about us all. 

This is about a level of self consciousness so high in my generation, that it’s actually toxic. 

This is about the girl in her bedroom who poses in front of the camera she’s awkwardly holding in her outstretched hand. She’ll take a hundred photos until coming up with one she’s happy with, which inevitably looks nothing like her, and after she’s done poring over images of herself, will post one on her myspace page and then write something like ” I don’t give a f*ck what you think about me.”

This is about the person trying out for American Idol, who while going off about how confident they are that they were born ready to sing in front of the world, are trembling so badly they can hardly breathe. 

This is about me, the guy who walks through a throng of photographers into a restaurant like he’s Paul Newman, but who leaves a “reject” pile of clothes in his closet so high that his cleaning lady can’t figure out how one man can step into so many pairs of pants in a week.

This is about a young guy who maintains a celebrity blog that subsists on tearing other people down but who has wrestled with a lifelong battle for acceptance as a gay man. 

This is about us all. Every one of us. Who all seem to know deep down that it’s incredibly hard to be alive and interact with the world around us but will try and cover it up at any cost. For as badass and unaffected as we try to come off, we’re all just one sentence away from being brought to the edge of tears, if only it was worded right. And I don’t want to act immune to that anymore. I took the biggest detour from myself over the past year, since I decided that I wasn’t going to care about what people thought about me. I got to the point where I had so much padding on that, sure, I couldn’t feel the negativity, but that’s because I couldn’t feel much of anything. And I think I’m done with that. 

I’m not the first person to admit we’re all self conscious, Kanye was. But what I want to  do is to shed a little light on why we’re all in the same boat, no matter the shape of the life we lead: because every one of us were told since birth that we were special. We were spoken to by name through a television. We were promised we could be anything that we wanted to be, if only we believed it and then, faster than we saw coming, we were set loose into the world to shake hands with the millions of other people who were told the exact same thing. 

And really? Really? It turns out we’re just not all that special, when you break it down. Beautifully unspectacular, actually.  And that truth is going to catch up with us whether we want to run from it or not. The paparazzo following me to the gym ain’t gonna be Herb Ritts and the guy he’s following ain’t gonna be Bob Dylan. It’s just a matter of how old you are once you embrace that fact. And for me, 30 sounds about right. 

What now, then? I can only really say for myself: Enjoy who I am, the talents and the liabilities. Stop acting careless. In fact, care more. Be vulnerable but stay away from where it hurts. Read. See more shows. Of any kind. Rock shows, art shows, boat shows. Create more art. Wear hoodies to dinner. Carry a notebook and hand it to people when they passionately recommend something and ask them to write it down for me.

Root for others. 

Give more and expect the same in return, but over time. 

Act nervous when I’m nervous, puzzled when I don’t know what the hell to do, and smile when it all goes my way. And never in any other order than that. 

And when it’s all over, whether at the end of this fabulous career or of this life, which I hope takes place at the same time, I should look back and say that I had it good and I made the most of it while I was able. And so should you. 

I’m going quiet now. 

John

What do you think? I need to find a cheap guitar to do a trial run on, but once I get it down, I think I want to do my Art & Lutherie. I think the cherry wood would be cool. But yea, give me some feedback with what you think. Peace. 

I just read this article and found it so funny that I had to put it on here! I hope you enjoy it! Don’t worry girls, just keep reading, the Wife’s Bill of Rights is just a little further down.

The Husband’s Bill of Rights:

We, the husbands of America, do not claim to be perfect. We’re far from it. While we love being married to the wives of America, we have a few things that we’d like to straighten out. We’re not asking for the world here. We understand that things like following our college football team to every away game is out of the question, as are after-dinner cigars. However; there are a few minor things that we’d like to clear up to make our marriage a happy one.

Amendment I
We have the right to go out with our friends at least once a month.
A man’s relationship with his buddies is a bond that should never be broken. It helps keep us feeling young, connected and sane. It also helps us break the routine just like nights with the girls do for you. Even as we reach middle age, we like the fact that we still have a “crew.”

Amendment II
We reserve the right to dislike your friend’s husbands.
We promise to give the guy a fair shot, but when he starts acting like a moron, we can no longer authorize events with that family. And yes, wives have the same freedom to blackball when the tables are turned. It doesn’t mean we like your friend any less, it just means that in her haste to have a big, fancy wedding, she chose a jackass that we don’t want to spend our rare time off with. Listening to stories about how “wicked” he was on the French horn in his bitchin’ ‘80s band is just too much.

Amendment III
We have the right to have a few things of ours in the house.
Everything we hold near and dear to us shouldn’t all be in the garage. While we understand that our framed KISS concert poster might not make it on the living room wall, at least throw us a bone. The scene in “Juno” where Jason Bateman realized that everything he held near and dear was in a 200-square-foot room was a gut-shot to us all.

Amendment IV
We have the right not to be scolded by you.
We are your husbands, not your children. We don’t mean to track dirt onto the carpet or get chips on the couch, but it’s not like we just got a lap dance. Don’t treat us like your children and we’ll do our best not to act like them.

Amendment V
We have the right to teach our sons how to burp and fart.
Sharing bodily functions with our offspring is as much about life as it is about jokes. It’s also something that can help brings kids and dads together. Believe me, kids and guys always laugh at farts—that’s how we’re wired. And we’re not talking about being totally gross and inappropriate. We vow to teach them that there is a time and a place for behavior like this—and that the early service at Church is not one of them.

Amendment VI
We have the right to teach our children how to defend themselves.
Fighting is barbaric, terrible, and scary. But it’s also part of growing up. We want our kids to be able to get out of a bad situation, not be bullied, and be able to take care of themselves. One of the plus sides of learning how to take care of yourself is that the more you know, the less you have to use it. Teaching our offspring how to defend themselves in a scary world is one of the basic duties of a father.

Amendment VII
We have the right to as much reading material in the bathroom as we need.
Sometimes we’re in there a while, we can’t help it. And no, we’re not hiding … most of the time.

Amendment VIII
We have the right to watch the big game.
We care too much about our teams. We know it’s not rational, but it’s who we are. No one can explain the love men have for their teams, but you may as well embrace it because that love will not die. If you don’t believe this, just remember the Boston Red Sox had the most loyal fans in sports and didn’t win a World Series for 86 years.

Amendment IX
We have the right to the remote when we’re on the couch.
This is something that’s in our DNA. We know it, and you know it. If there’s any doubt, watch us surf at top speed while knowing if a show is worth watching after stopping on it for .2 seconds. It’s a thing of beauty.

Amendment X
We have the right to still use chivalry.
Yes … we know women are strong and independent, and we dig that. But allow us to open the door for you, or give up a seat and act like a gentleman once in a while. The world will be a better place because of it.

The Wife’s Bill of Rights:

We, the wives of America, love being married to the husbands of America. We know we have our faults, but with our ever-morphing roles these days, there’s a lot of pressure on us to be superhuman. We care for our families, manage the home, keep ourselves attractive, and even bring home our shares of the bacon. We know we sometimes lash out, but we really do want to “live happily ever after” with you. Our mutual acknowledgement of these amendments can go a long way toward achieving that.

Amendment I
We have the right to dislike your buddies.
We know it’s important for you to have your guy friends, but you should know by now that we’re not turned on by your stories of the good old days at college, your sexual exploits, or which relief pitcher the Red Sox should trade. Disappear for a while and be boys—it’s OK, go chug beer and high-five—but please don’t expect us to be happy when your friends come over and put their feet on our coffee tables or leave their beer cans on the floor.

Amendment II
We have the right to experience PMS in all its glory.
Either give us our space or accept the consequences. We know it’s unfair, but some of us just can’t rein it in. You knew that before you married us. We may shout, cry, belittle, act irrationally. It lasts a few days each month, so please deal with it. Or even better: Bring home dinner, clear the dishes, and give us a big hug.

Amendment III
We have the right to demand you finish a household job.
We’re not your mothers, and we loathe having to act like them. If you wash the dishes, do them all and clean the sink, too. Don’t just bag the trash, take it outside to the bin. If you start a load of laundry, put it in the dryer and fold it too. We don’t like nagging any more than you like hearing it.

Amendment IV
We have the right to an honest answer to “What’s wrong?”
We admit guilt in this area too, but “Nothing” says nothing. If we ask, it’s not because we’re trying to make casual conversation. It’s because we love you and need an honest answer. If there truly is nothing wrong, then ask why we think otherwise. Yes, this could open a can of worms, but remember when we dated and talked about everything?

Amendment V
We have the right to keep our secrets.
Not marriage-ending ones, just small secrets we choose to hide from others. If we don’t want to speak our age or share our true hair color or reveal the cheesy TV shows we watch in private, it’s not your place to reveal them to our friends, your business partners, or your ex-girlfriends/wives. We’re not asking you to lie for us, but we would appreciate your discretion.

Amendment VI
We have the right to clean air.
You may think it’s funny, masculine, or natural to pass gas anywhere and anytime you please, but when the smell drives us to gag, it’s uncool. There is something inherently wrong in the relationship if you must walk over to us and fart, or if you intentionally set a bad example for the kids. We fart too, but we do so discreetly for a reason. You may not like our potpourri and scented candles, but they’re infinitely better than toxic and flammable methane.

Amendment VII
We have the right to keep and bear tons of girly bathroom products.
You have your tools; so do we. These items are expensive and to be used sparingly. It brings no joy to see our $15 bath bar shrunk down to the size of a quarter after two passes on your chest and legs.

Amendment VIII
We have the right to speak to our girlfriends every day.
About whatever we want, whenever we want. Please don’t eavesdrop or criticize. We know you’re not that interested in gossip or psycho-analytical interpretations of why some people do what they do, so we turn to our like-minded female friends for instant gratification. Yes, we do talk about you—a lot. It helps us work through issues. This keeps us happy, sane and, usually, off your case.

Amendment IX
We have the right to flirt.
Not the kind that makes you jealous, but the healthy practice of connecting with another person on a non-sexual level. Light banter is fun, quick-witted, and encouraging to our self esteem. It might even remind you of why you feel in love with us. And if it gets us a smoking deal on that new furnace or a free stay for the family at a million-dollar ski chalet, so much the better.

Amendment X
We have the right to foreplay.
A fine bottle of wine, soft music, deep looks into each other’s eyes, compliments, holding hands, cuddling—these are all forms of foreplay, and we insist on them. Please don’t reach for our crotch or breasts and expect us to melt into a porn kitten. It didn’t work when we met, it most certainly doesn’t work now. Sure, we women are strong and independent, and appreciate an inspired quickie when the moment strikes, but we also have an inner soft spot the size of Texas that needs squeezing and cherishing. We appreciate you more when you think about how it feels to us rather than how it feels to you.

So as of late, I have had a lot to do and try to get accomplished and it has felt good to be so busy. But I’m ready for a party, a let loose, have fun, chilaxing type of party. Sound fun? Here is a list of what I have been working on:

- Continuing going to school. (Only three classes now)

-Finding work, continually going to places and asking if they will hire me. 

-Getting a ton of Art done for class, I have a ton of work to go to make Folio. Should be interesting. Anyone got a good big project they need done? Wiling to pay me to do it?

-I have another Art project, working on reconstructing a historic piece of art in the next 15 days or so. 

-I got three songs to write and have music to in a month. I like deadlines, but sometimes, they can be evil. 

-I have work this weekend, hopefully last weekend for this. It has been a nice little side job. 

-I have to do some more work for my business, hopefully this weekend if all goes well. Getting the ball rolling is the hardest part. 

-Need to take care of a ticket. 

-Need to go to the doctor for my thumb I think. It’s gotten worse. 

-Checking out a church this weekend, that should be fun. 

-Oh, and finals are coming up as well. So I’m all kinds of excited. 

-And you know, sleeping, eating, and working out fit in there somewhere as well. 

So I have a little bit on my plate to get done in the next like three weeks. Pray for me. Should be a fun end to the semester. Being a poor art majoring, music playing, jobless college student adds a certain thrill to living life. Peace. 

You should see the other guy. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA