Happy Birthday To My Favorite Sister!

 Happy Birthday to My Favorite Sister!



Jodi and our cat in 1978

Okay, she happens to be MY ONLY Sister...
But she is still my favorite!

I have had the pleasure of having some of the most wonderful people in my life. Some have been life-long friends, some have been only briefly. Every single person who has been important to me has played an important part of my life. Each has had a special purpose, and a special connection. Each has fit into my life in different ways. Each has understood differing aspects of my unique personality. Seldom has any totally understood me. I treasure the bits each person does understand, and where we connect. There is only ONE who has been understanding, and even accepting of who I am completely.

 

Jodi watching Grandpa carve a turkey in 1980

 That one person is My Sister, Jodi. Today is Her Birthday. I can’t tease her too much about getting older, because she will always be younger than me, and when I tease her about her age, it seems I feel the effects of aging even more magnified. I won’t even say how old she is now. (I am 43, and she was born a year-and-a-half after I was…..depending on how you do the math she could be a couple of different ages today.)

It is kinda funny, though. She was (and is) NOT a Morning-person. I am Definitely a Morning-person. We often went places as kids that required us to be up, and traveling before the sun came up. Jodi would manage to always be ready to go, and barely awake… until well-after the sun had come up. Then she was unstoppable. Her and I often were buddies in so many of the activities we did. I ALWAYS Enjoyed the sunrises, and would tell her about how wonderful they were. We connected on many activities in life, but not the sunrise issue. What was always amazing was how we could go skiing, to flea-markets, road-trips, vacations, to the beach, to visit relatives, to amusement parks, and just about ANY activity you could imagine, and I would see such wonderful sunrises. Jodi never saw any. Then one day, as adults, she called me at 7:30 in the morning, and was excitedly telling me about the sunrise she had just seen. She was excited, and wanted to tell me she was up for the sunrise. She was thrilled to be able to finally tell me she saw one! I was thrilled, too, but I knew there had to be a catch! It only took me a second to figure out this phenomenon. For over thirty years, I had not succeeded in getting her to see a sunrise. I asked her if she was in Vegas. She said she WAS In Fact in Vegas. She saw the sunrise, because she had stayed up all night, and just happened to still be up when the sun rose that morning.



Caught us smiling...Again! 1991 in Glide, Oregon

Last week, Jodi was in Vegas again. I currently live in Vegas, and had not seen my sister since before I moved from Oregon in February. I probably had not seen her for many months before I moved. She came to Vegas, and decided to show up at my work to surprise me. It took her three attempts to actually find me, because my schedule is kinda whacky, and she was just winging-it, hoping to catch me by surprise. When she came and found I was not there, she had to make those who she talked-to promise not to tell me she was there. She was playing it the same way I often had when I stopped-in and surprised her. She finally caught up with me, and we got a chance to chat, and visit. Turns out she did not see the sunrise during this visit to Vegas, but She and I shared a good laugh about that one time she did see the sunrise.

Yup! Two Funny Faces... Do you see how people say We Look alike?

The funniest thing I always hear from people who meet my sister for the first time, is “She looks just like you!” (my apologies to you, Jodi). They reference the eyes, smile, and face. It makes me laugh, too. I remember one manager in Medford who had not yet met her. She came up to him and asked where to find me, and his reply to her was “Agh! It’s a Female-Jon!” (again, my apologies to you, Jodi.) There are some I am not happy to be compared to, but my sister is not one of those. I always find it to be a good thing.

When the topic of creativity comes up, she swears I took ALL the creative genes in our family. I think she has just forgotten (old age will do that to a person) all the fun we had doing creative things as kids. We once made play-doh from scratch, and subsequently learned to paint walls because of it. We often made play-doh, and had endless hours with all that we could do with it. We made it different colors, would shape it, and often let it dry in the different shapes. We would make some really thick, and see how tall we could form it. We would make some really runny, and see if we could still work with it as a liquid. There were times we managed to wear more of it than seemed possible, and of course the food-coloring would stain our skin funny colors, and often mom had the "pleasure" of teaching us how to scrub the residue out of our clothes before throwing them in the washer. It was not uncommon to make art, ornaments, or just blobs for others. This one particular day, we made HUGE amounts of it. We had a huge room downstairs with lots of counter-space for spreading-out our messes. For whatever reason, on this day, we decided to throw it against the walls, and see what shapes we could make stick to the walls. We did this with clay of every color, shape and size for endless hours. It was only after we had finished playing that the evidence, and damage of our adventure became obvious. It turns out that the oil in the home-made play-doh soaked into the paint on the walls, and permanently stained the walls. That was when we learned how to scrub, prime, and paint walls. Mom was always eager to teach us, along with making sure we learned from our mistakes.

Mom always encouraged us to play, learn, and even make messes, knowing we would always learn something new every time.



Spring, 1988 on Cannon Beach.
Yup! We went out to play in 100-mile an hour winds!

Jodi and I took swim-lesson, ski-lessons, cooking classes, and assorted craft classes together as tiny little kids. We learned together, and pushed each other’s limits, enjoying the thrills and challenges. We often could be found making wonderful art creations to sell at a card-table on the sidewalk. We were creative, and adventurous in our coming up with fun things in the kitchen. Sometime the messes we created were bigger than the total combined food we were attempting to make. But no matter what life threw at us, we always made the most fun out of it.



Spring, 1989
Jodi and I on Mt Bachelor Summit

Of Course, there were tons of differences, too. But, we always have had a wonderful connection, and shared many of life’s adventures together. I am sure I will share more wonderful stories of growing up with The Most Wonderful Sister ever!



Jodi, 1977

Happy Birthday, Jodi! May you see the sunrise… at least once more… and call to tell me!

For any of you who have not had the pleasure of sharing life with The Most Wonderful Sister, I might be willing to share mine! (of course she may have something else to say about this...)

~=:-)

Welcome Fall!

Fall has Arrived

Fall has officially arrived in the Northern Hemisphere.

As fall settles-in, our thoughts tend to shift from summer activities toward colder weather, the holidays, and eventually winter. As the sun gets dramatically lower on the southern horizon, it is darker longer in the mornings, and night falls all too quick in the evenings. We hold on to any last bits of sunshine we can collect. We plan activities that take advantage of the warmth for the few days we know we have left. The end of summer tells us it is time to bring-in the patio furniture, time to get out our warmer clothes, and even the gloves, scarves, and wool hats.

In the past, I have lived in many places where the above is true. Living in Oregon, and Washington the end of summer was not really so noticeable, because there was no real summer. If we got warmth, it was only occasional, and rather sporatic. In The Northwest, it was seldom above 80 degrees, and the few hot days we got never lasted long enough to warm the earth below our feet. In the Northwest, we expect frost to come soon after The Fall Equinox.

This year, I am living in Las Vegas. This is a different climate for me, and I am loving it! We are still getting temperatures above 100 degrees, and we have mostly sunny days. In early September, we entered what the locals call “Monsoon season”. This is also new to me. This is when Vegas gets most of its rain. When it rains here, it comes in hard, and fast. Everything floods for a few hours, then is completely dry again. It can be 100-degrees, than it rains for a little while, cools down to about 80, then the sun comes back out, and it is hot again. I find this fascinating. In the evenings, we get down into the 70’s, but that is hardly cold compared to Oregon, or Washington. All summer long, the sun has warmed the earth below our feet, so the ground is still radiating warmth. The rain evaporates quickly.

Usually I am aware of the official changes of seasons, and it has always felt like a change for me when they come. This time, I was slightly surprised that the Fall Equinox actually came and went without my realizing it. I KNEW the calendar date, but it had not registered in my inner-calendar. This made me laugh, and really understand how different the climate is here. I KNOW in my mind that this is when the cold sets-in, and it really messes with me that I can still wear shorts while the sun is up. September is almost gone, and I am wearing shorts! This is just not right. ~Grin~ But I Totally love it! The sun is definitely lower, and the days are shorter, but it still feels like summer.



Downtown Portland, Oregon

My mind is arguing with itself. One part of it is automatically reaching for the coat, and the other part is reaching for the sandals. Every Fall, I really dread the leaving of the sunshine. My body thrives in the sun. (That is the reason I moved to Vegas.) Even while walking, wearing shorts, I find myself looking at the foliage. I KNOW those leaves are going to turn color, and soon fall to The Earth. But they have not begun to turn yet. Even though I dread the loss of sunshine as Fall sets-in, I am always thrilled to watch nature paint us a beautiful picture.



Train Tracks in Portland, Oregon

When the leaves fall, they are essentially dead, but for some reason, they are often more beautiful than when they were just merely green on the trees. As they turn color, the hues are incredible. As they fall, they dance, and flutter as if to make one final performance in the breeze before they add their nutrients to the soil from which they originally sprouted.





As we see the dried leaves blown around on the ground, and forming other artistic designs, if you look closely, you might see more than just a pile of leaves.

What do You See? Fall is Beautiful.

As Fall enters your world, may you find the beauty it holds. May you see more than just dead leaves. I hope you find the joy in the show our God had created just for you!

Have a Wonderful Fall Day!
And Thank You for reading My blog! JOn ~=:-)

Crayons? Or Multi Colored Emergency Repair Kit?

Crayola Crayons.
ALWAYS A SMILE
There is something magical about a box of Crayons. Especially a Brand-New Box!
Many years ago, while living in Charlottesville, Virginia, I received a package in the mail from my Dad. (it is always fun to get a package in the mail!) I opened-it, and was pleasantly surprised to find a box of crayons. That was the entire package... one box of 24 Crayola Crayons. And there was a note sticking out of the box of crayons. Here is what the note said:

"These multipurpose color sticks are designed for emergency repairs to any colored surface (wood, metal, glass, fabric, stucco, cement, brick, etc.) for the purpose of restoring or changing colors resulting from breakage, scratches, chips, scrapes, stitches, or too much time on your hands, or boredom.

Warning: These color sticks are not recommended for use with foods, or beverages that are going to be consumed, however, they may be used on surfaces of such items that will be used strictly for decorative purposes. If such items are accidentally ingested, contact the nearest Poison Control Center, explain what happened, and when they quit laughing hysterically, they may be able to give you some advice on how to counteract your colorful new diet. It may be as simple as spreading an artist’s canvas on the toilet seat."

Oh How wonderful! I was slightly baffled, at first that my dad would send me Just a box of Crayons. But He ALWAYS had some fun reason for why he would send a package. Once I read the note, it made me smile, laugh, and totally appreciate the effort!

Crayons are magical. Just the sight of them inspires creativity, fun, and imagination.

Everyone smiles when the see them.

I had packed this box of Crayons away, (and forgotten about it) and kept it boxed for the past 4 or 5 years. The box these crayons had been packed-in was not kept in a cool-storage. The box with the crayons has been in hot storage units, garages, and even The Vegas summer heat (well over 120 degrees!). When I opened the box yesterday, I was thrilled to dicover this happy little box of Crayons. I could smell the scent of the Crayola Crayons long before I ever got to where there were burried in that box. The Scent instantly reminded me of the feeling I got the day I opened them in my mail. I smiled, but thought they would be a melted-mess, and stuck all over everything else inside that box. Imagine my surprise when they were not melted! They were surprisingly in perfect condition!

I took these pictures yesterday. These Are The Crayons that I had packed-away, and thought would be melted! They are Beautiful!

It is amazing to me how such a little thing can take you to such a happy place. A Simple Smell, a Simple color, or even a folded piece of paper. Our mind is a wonderful thing. The tiniest of details that are stored and recalled, when we seemingly need them the most.

I Knew Instantly when I opened that box yesterday how I wanted to lay them out for some fun pictures.

I Just Wish I Could Capture the Scent, Too!

Perhaps, you CAN Smell them through your own stored memories?

Isn't it Amazing How something so simple as Crayola Crayons can create such WONDERFUL FEELINGS?

If you find use of these as an Emergency Repair Color Stick, I would love to hear about it. If You should decide to eat them, I am not sure I would want to see your finished work...

I Hope You Have a Wonderful Day!

~=:-)

WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME??

The Fist-Bump vs The Hand-Shake:

(or: WHY ARE YOU TOUCHING ME??)

 

This thing that is so popular in Vegas called the fist-bump drives me absolutely nuts! Before moving to Vegas I had not had the “privilege” of being in an environment where they utilize the “Fist-Bump”. This is a totally new thing to me. Perhaps you are familiar with it, Or you are like me, and asking “What Is The Fist-Bump?” Well, when a man sees another man he knows (or has seen once before), he makes a fist, and holds it out at chest-height, and the other man is expected to do the same. Then they bring their fists toward the other one, and “bump” knuckles. Sometimes it is done at waist-height, but mostly at chest-height. It is done, not in a rough manner, but very gently, almost tenderly. It baffles me, and I find it quite disturbing, even creepy.

My Very first day at my job, I was taken up to The Pizzeria after orientation, and introduced to the cook who would be the one I started my training with. When the manager told him my name, I stuck my hand out to shake his hand, and meet him. He held his fist out toward me, and looked puzzled as to what I was doing with my hand. He kept his fist held there, and said “fist-bump”. I had no clue what he was attempting, and wondered why he would not shake my hand. He never offered his hand, nor his name. After a moment, he lowered his hand, and just stared at me. The manager could see where this was going (nowhere) so she then took me to see the schedule, and complete my orientation tour.

The next day when I reported for my first day at The Pizzeria, every man I was introduced to, also attempted this fist-bump. Not one would shake my hand when I was introduced. They all looked at me like I was some sort of freak because I did not understand what to do with their special, secret-club-fist-bump. Every woman I was introduced to gladly shook my hand.


As the days and weeks went on, I was getting more and more creeped-out by these guys. EVERY Single time any of them sees you, they want to fist-bump. There are thousands of employees in my work. Every man in the place wants to fist-bump every other man they see. They want to fist-bump every time they see you, even if they just saw you five minutes ago. What is up with all these men who barely know me always wanting to touch me? It does not matter if your hands are full, or theirs are. It does not matter if you are busy, or if you are trying to handle food. It does not matter if you are unloading hot-molten pizza from the oven. They expect, and want to fist-bump! So, then ya gotta stop, and go wash your hands again to continue your job. But they do not see this as a problem. They want to stand right next to me, fist-bump me, and then just stand there… RIGHT NEXT TO ME. They do this to every male they can. Creeeepy!

I finally got to a point that I could not stand it anymore, and started asking everyone why this was so important to them. I asked the meaning of it. I asked why they felt the need to constantly touch me, and stand literally in my space. Not a single person could answer these questions. One person (a woman) suggested that “perhaps you are not cool enough for the fist-bump.” (To which I replied, “Good! If that is cool, I’m fine not being cool!”) To me, “cool” is not copying what everyone else is doing. Several of the guys’ immediate response to my inquiry was, “It’s NOT GAY if THAT is what you are thinking!” (Well, the fact that I had indeed thought it to be a gay thing, and they are so quick to defend their wanting to touch and be really close to other men, would only help convince me it truly is a gay thing.) I never see another man do a fist-bump to a woman. They only do it to another man. I really would not care if it was a gay thing, as long as they admit the truth, and don’t force themselves on me. Finally, one person suggested it was “like a hand-shake”. Ha, Hardly! I told them it was nothing like a hand-shake, because a hand-shake shows respect, and is done once when you meet someone, and on occasion when you have not seen them in a while. A handshake is never done every single time you see someone. Once you meet someone and shake their hand, you do not go up and shake the hand of someone you hardly know every time you see him. A hand-shake does not have anything tender, and soft about it. The fist-bump is all about touching another man gently, and softly, and tenderly every time you see him. I find that creepy. So, I continued asking, and explaining the difference. Every single person I asked thought I was some sort of freak for even thinking about it. They all deny that the reason they do it is to touch another man, yet none of them can come up with a valid reason for it. They claim they are not touching another man. So, I ask them exactly what they are doing, and they look like I just asked them to recite the entire periodic table.

My work is not the only place I see this. I see it all over Vegas. The tourists Never do this. The residents do it. I see every male that sees another male he knows do this. I have seen it in places I frequent, and on the busses. People who recognize me around town try to do this every time they see me. Even the bus drivers want to do this to me. They look at me funny when I do not readily want to be touched by them. I question their need to want to touch another man, and they do not understand the question. (Fortunately the people in my apartment complex act like they are scared of me, so none of them attempt to fist-bump me when I am coming or going.) They all do it to one another, but not me. That is Good! But everywhere else I see familiar men, they always want to do this. What is wrong with them? Why can’t they greet me, give a smile, and maybe ask “How are you?” Why can’t they actually show a genuine interest in another human? Why are they so intent on touching others? Has nobody ever taught these people about personal boundaries, or inappropriate touching?



Trying to talk to people about it is has proven pointless. The people who wish to do this really are only focused on what they want, and anything else falls on deaf ears. They Really want to Touch Me, and it bothers me a lot! I have never been fond of people I am not friends with touching me in any way. Only people I trust will I willingly allow to touch me. Others have no valid reason to invade my space. Why would anyone want others constantly touching them? About the best defense I can have is to just keep moving (it’s hard to hit a moving target!), and pretend I did not see their attempt to fist-bump. If they can ignore conventional greetings, I can ignore their attempt to force themselves inappropriately on me. I can smile, look them in the eye, and say “Hi”, and keep moving. Maybe, possibly, they might one day return the smile, or look me in the eye, or even say a friendly greeting. Maybe one day they will find a bit of genuineness can actually feel wonderful.


On September 11th, I realized why it bothers me so much. September 11th, hundreds of firefighters gathered at The Stratosphere for a commemorative stair-climb to honor the firemen who died ten years before in the New York World Trade Centers. This event was really positive, and uplifting. It had fire fighters show up from all around the Vegas Metro area. Not only were there firefighters, but also their families, too. Many of these people have been in each others’ lives for many years, having been through good times and bad. They have supported each other through every possible thing one could imagine. Many had never before met, and many were re-united after long absences. Some were new to the gathering. Many worked together on a daily basis. Many only saw one another in quick passing while on the job. This day, they could relax, and chat a bit. They greeted each other with smiles, made eye contact, and eagerly shook one-another’s hands. They asked “How are you?” and “How have you been?” For the new ones, They said, “Nice to meet you.”

What did I see with the fire fighters? I saw Real People, who actually cared about the person they were greeting. I saw people who understood the formality and genuineness of The Handshake. I saw people who understand what a greeting should be, and when to do it. Once they greeted each other with the hand-shake, they did not shake hands again in five minutes when they saw one another again. Not a single person in that gathering fist-bumped. There was no shallowness in their greetings.

I realized from the firefighters what I actually had known, but did not allow myself to put into a real thought. The Fist-Bump stands for exactly the opposite of what The Hand-Shake does. The hand-Shake is about respect. The Hand-shake can seal a deal. The Hand-shake can show care, concern, and a real genuineness between two humans. The Fist-Bump is a shallow attempt to pretend closeness, and somehow act like there is a connection between people who have absolutely no genuineness between them. The fist-bump is not about respect. The fist-bump is about forcing yourself on someone. Those who fist-bump do not look each other in the eye. They do not ask “how are you?” It IS seemingly a “club-membership”. It IS seemingly a mutual “coolness” for those who need to feel cool by being exactly like the others. It is a connection to those they can never connect with. It represents the opposite of The Hand-Shake. That is Why is bothers me so much. That is what The fist-bump represents with the people I see using it.

Here is a photo of me meeting Roger Daly, Owner and Founder of Omnitrition, a multi-million-dollar vitamin, and health-supplements company. He is a multi-millionaire, and one the most respected people I ever worked for. He has respect, and gives respect. He taught me how to make a lot of money. He was very happy to meet me, AND SHAKE MY HAND. Could you imagine if he went around Fist-Bumping? He would not have had much respect, nor be very successful. He made his millions by shaking the hand of every single person he ever met. He looked them in the eye, and asked them “How are you?”

As you look through our world’s rich history, could you imagine what would have happened if people refused the hand-shake, and instead tried to fist-bump?

Imagine this scene. The famous Golden Spike Handshake. May 10, 1869, the completion of The Transcontinental Railroad in Utah.

There are so many historical events that are accompanied by the hand-shake. (I could list them for hours, and show hundreds of pictures... you are welcome to look them up for yourself.) It represents trust, honor, respect, unity, and peace.

A hand-shake is offered when thanking someone for providing a service. In that hand-shake, there is often a folded amount of money offered as a tip. Could you imagine offering a fist-bump to someone who had just done a service for you? That would offer quite an insult to the service provider, and could not offer such a gratuity. You can bet if the service provider got a fist-bump, that person would be less than eager to provide good service to others. You want good service, give a hand shake, and ensure you get it, and that others behind you also get good service. A little respect goes a long way.

A hand-shake is offered as a sign of making peace after having fought. Can you imagine approaching someone in which you wish to have peace with a raised fist? I guarantee you will not invoke peace. You will invoke further animosity and fighting.

Perhaps the fist-bump has different meaning in other places. Fortunately, I have not been in those circles previously. I have been all over The United States. I have seen many cultures I did not understand. But none has been so prevalent, or disturbing. Usually these sorts of things are localized to specific parts of a city, or certain little groups, gangs, or clubs. I have often encountered people who wish to utilize some sort of “cool hand-shake”, but they never want to force it on someone who is not part of their little group. Those people would still give a real hand-shake to anyone not in their little circle. But in Vegas, this seems to be throughout the entire city. There are exceptions, of course. The fire fighters showed me that they are from every part of this city, and the surrounding areas. So, that shows me that perhaps I need to find a different group of people to be around. Now that I have figured out what it means, and why it bothers me so much, I just have to figure out how to make it work for me while I am here.

I am always seeking new information, and want to learn about my environment. I was sure the fist-bump did not ONLY exist in Vegas, and since Nobody in Vegas could give a reason for why they do it, or what it means, I started to scour the web to see where else it exists. I find thousands of photos just from the tag “fist bump”. The most common ones are seemingly to show victory, or a challenge met, in some form or another. For reasons I cannot understand, President Obama is pictured doing this. Is He really that disrespectful? Do people not expect him to show respect, like any other important elected official? Does our President support violence? Is this why so many foreign countries do not have any respect for Him? Sporting events seem to have it numerous times. It would seem that the fist-bump in these instances would be a replacement for the “High-Five”. All of these seemingly show a positive, mutual desire to share the joy of some victory. In each of these, I also notice the people make eye-contact, and are smiling with a quite-pleased –with-their-success look on their faces. These people All have the same look of a common connection, and mutual trust, understanding, and respect.

The thing that does not jive with me, is people are making a fist. A sign of anger, or violence, and raising it as to hit someone, then gently, tenderly touching. How is this a good thing in any way? Yes, I see the pictures, and the looks on their faces. The fist is totally inappropriate for something that would be joyous, and non-threatening. When did the clenched fist in a raised position suddenly become non-violent? Fortunately, I was not first-approached on the street in this manner. Fortunately, I saw it first in a supposedly safe environment of my work. I am not so sure I would have taken lightly to someone on the street acting as if they wanted to hit me. Along with the hundreds of Obama, and sports-team members doing this I see thousands of babies where people are creating a fist-bump with their baby. If a baby reaches out to someone, and is fist-bumped instead of having that person hold the hand, and show it love, what will it teach the baby? It teaches the baby to make a fist, and hit someone. An open hand would welcome that baby’s hand, instead of teaching that baby to hit, and withdraw. An open-hand is a welcome gesture. A Fist is the opposite.

Wikipedia suggests the fist-bump started in boxing and other fighting, where the gloved, or wrapped hands made a hand shake improbable. It also suggests it got strong roots in sports, and in the ghettos. This is no surprise. I have not found any reason for its popularity, and seeming replacing of the hand-shake.

The fist is a sign of violence, anger, challenge, or fight. This does make sense. Sports, and ghettos are all about the fighting, the anger, the challenge, and mutual hatred, always having to out-do another to make yourself look good. I can understand why opponents would welcome the fist-bump. I cannot understand why those on the same team would want to show a sign of anger, or violence toward a team-mate… especially after they have just won a challenge. Shouldn’t they want to show support, joy, trust, and respect? I have never understood the mentality of those who thrive on sports, and this showing of aggression toward their own teammates just helps to baffle me further. And I know President Obama is really into sports. Could it be that he is wishing to run America as if he were on a sports-team, and looking at everything he does as “facing the opposing team”?

I have been asking everyone who does this why they like it. Most do not know, and have never given it a thought. It has been suggested by many who do this that "It is all over The TV, and it looks cool", or "They did it a ton in the movie Wild Hogs." Well, those examples both help justify my distaste for it. If someone is copying something they see on TV, just to look cool, and without understanding, or even knowing WHAT it is, that shows they are just wanting to look, and act like someone they are not. (There are many reasons I do not watch TV... this just helps show another reason.) And the guys doing it in the movie Wild Hogs... That movie was created as a humorous look at how some people want to pretend to be something they are not. That movie is a perfect lesson in how not to behave... but it seems some interpret it in just the opposite way, and missed the whole moral of the story.

These roots and reasons for it also help to justify my dislike, and not accepting of the fist-bump. There is nothing I find acceptable about fighting, or challenging another. There is nothing acceptable about acting like something you are not, or acting like you support violence.

I strive to keep my world violence-free. I had to fight for my survival way too much in life. I abhor anything that represents violence toward another. It really bothers me that so many people want to encourage violence, and promote symbols for violence. Just because everyone else thinks violence is cool, does not mean I have to accept it, and be part of it. I have to live among it, but I do not have to be part of it.

When I meet you, I will not raise my fist toward you. I will offer my hand. If you raise your fist toward me, it shows you have no respect even for yourself, let alone another. It shows you are looking for a challenge. I will not play along with your game. If I know you, and do not trust you, I will simply greet you, but will not touch you in any way. I expect the same in return. If we trust one another, we will shake hands. If we have missed one another, there likely will be a hug, too!

If you happen to find good in the fist-bump, I would love to hear a valid reason for it. If you see the raised fist as a good thing, please tell me why. If you see anything about this gesture as a good thing, please explain, and help those of us who do not understand this. If you have no explanation for it, perhaps that is the key. Ask yourself why you do something in which you do not understand. If you do it just to copy others, ask yourself why you would want to copy another, instead of being true to who you are. If you find joy in touching another man, please tell us why. If it is not a gay thing, then help us understand what it really is. If it is a gay thing, just be honest. Honesty goes a lot further than deceit. I will have more respect for you, if you admit your motives, rather than attempt to touch me in a creepy way. I still won't let you touch me, but I will respect you for your honesty. Help those of us who do not understand why you would want to raise a fist toward someone, then touch them gently, tenderly, softly, and repeatedly. If you want to touch someone, make sure the feeling is mutual, and do it in a manner which is not about violence, or to be creepy.

Meanwhile, if you are not a close friend, STOP TOUCHING ME! It’s bad enough that you come across as creepy, and do not even know a reason for your own behavior, but then you really want to be sure I cannot trust you? Come on! I gotta work with you, wouldn’t you want to build trust, instead of making me always wonder about your motives? Keep a respectable distance, and save the intimacy for your buddies who enjoy that sort of thing.

Here is a T-shirt i think I should wear....

Have a Wonderrful Day... In Your own personal space, not in mine. ~=:-)

"I'll Be Back... What about Mozart?"

“I’ll Be back.” “I’ll Be Mozart”:

(insert Groan here)

Memorable phrases, quips and quotes.

I love wit, humor, puns, and almost anything that when said makes the person hearing it rewind a bit, ponder it, then chuckle. To play with words, and make another smile, groan, laugh, or just walk away shaking their head is an art-form. Some would call it “Punishment”. (Pun intended).

Sometimes, we do not realize the lasting effect some of the silliest little quips may have. Only when we utter the words said by someone in our past, does the real enjoyment set-in. We pick up little things as we go through life, and often do not realize how much they stick, or how much they seem to bring the warmth, love, and humor of someone you miss back into your present life.

Today I got a voicemail from Kathie in Virginia. She called to tell me the legend I left behind in Virginia still lives. We always played with our words while at work (and out of work, too of course!). The one she called to tell me about was one of my fondest, and one that has fallen on deaf ears since landing in Vegas. When leaving the building, she would say, “I’ll be Back.” To which I would reply, “I’ll be Beethoven.” Or we would mix it up, and say “Mozart”. Her current employer in Virginia has the same humor. She called to tell me she was leaving the building, and told her boss, “I’ll be back” and her boss said, “what about ‘Mozart’?” So she said, “Okay, I’ll be Mozart” and went out the door laughing and smiling. Then called me to tell me! This really made me smile, and gave me a good laugh, too!

I feel puns, plays-on-words, and banter are just a normal way to make work a more enjoyable experience. Some of the puns are welcomed in Vegas, but I find more times than not, I have to explain them. If ya gotta explain the pun, it is usually wasted. It seems not everyone was raised in a world where they are taught to look for fun in everyday words, and to see where they can exercise the brain in an otherwise mundane environment. For those who have never been taught the play-on-words way of life, it is difficult to introduce. Fear not, though. For every ten I have to explain, there are one or two that actually stick! (Yes! They are trainable… hehee!)

Often the words we hear from those in our daily lives stick, and when we least expect it, we find ourselves uttering those same words, and it brings us such a warmth, and feeling like they are still by our side. For many reasons, people are in our lives, and are often not as long as we would hope. But those words, and feelings are brought back when we seemingly need to hear them the most.

The ones that often are the best, are ones created by language-barriers, or by those who speak a different native-tongue than we do. These are not meant to make fun of anyone, or any language, but rather to make the barriers more enjoyable, and even bring a smile, rather than frustration. Working in the pizza industry has a few that will always stick with me, and I have even managed to get most of my coworkers in new environments to adapt, and even use the funny ones. For example, there are some languages which have difficulty pronouncing the word “Hawaiian”. When they call on the phone to place an order for a Hawaiian Pizza, they manage to get the word as “Hiya-Wanna”. So, rather than getting frustrated at attempts to teach them the proper pronunciation, we would ourselves adapt, and use the same word they do. So now, Every place I work that has anything “Hawaiian” in the name, it becomes “Hiya-Wanna”. Once I explain the name I call it, other coworkers are eager to join-in.

Also humorous, but could be frustrating if you let it be is how different cultures, languages, and ethnicities either recognize, or do not recognize certain sounds. Sometimes the way the translation comes out acquires a whole-new meaning, and is often humorous, depending on which side of the barrier you are on. Take the ones who do not pronounce “V’s” as a “v-sound”, yet it comes out as a “W-Sound”. A “Vegetable, or Veggie” becomes “A Weggie”. So, when someone calls up, and orders “A Large Weggie”, one cannot help but chuckle, and think they want a “Wedgie”. (in case you do not catch the pun, a “wedgie” as defined by Wikkipedia is: “A wedgie occurs when a person's underwear or other garments are wedged between the buttocks.”) I have received many “weggies”, but the most memorable was from Alan in Virginia. (Those who know Alan will understand).

Sometime we hear jokes , and Always remember the one(s) we heard it from first.

A good (or bad, You decide) example of language differences is “Tenjewberrymuds” I heard from Jenn and Maria:

“Do You Want Some Meel with Your Toes?” Huh? Don’t understand…. Here it is: (well, one version of the funny story):

Room Service - Tenjewberrymuds

The following is a telephone exchange between a hotel guest and room-service at a hotel in Asia. It was recorded and published in the Far East Economic Review:

To get the full effect it should be read aloud. [You will understand what 'tenjewberrymuds' means by the end of the conversation.]

Room Service (RmSv): Morrin. Roon sirbees.

Guest: Sorry, I thought I dialled room-service.

RmSv: Rye...Roon sirbees...morrin! Jewish to oddor sunteen?

Guest: Uh..yes..I'd like some bacon and eggs.

RmSv: Ow July den?

Guest: What??

RmSv: Ow July den?...pryed, boyud, poochd?

Guest: Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please.

RmSv: Ow July dee baykem? Crease?

Guest: Crisp will be fine.

RmSv: Hokay. An Sahn toes?

Guest: What?

RmSv: An toes. July Sahn toes?

Guest: I don't think so.

RmSv: No? Judo wan sahn toes??

Guest: I feel really bad about this, but I don't know what 'judo wan sahn toes' means.

RmSv: Toes! toes!... Why jew don juan toes? Ow bow Anglish moppin we bodder?

Guest: English muffin!! I've got it! You were saying 'Toast.' Fine. Yes, an English muffin will be fine.

RmSv: We bodder?

Guest: No...just put the bodder on the side.

RmSv: Wad?

Guest: I mean butter... just put it on the side.

RmSv: Copy?

Guest: Excuse me?

RmSv: Copy...tea...meel?

Guest: Yes. Coffee, please, and that's all.

RmSv: One Minnie. Scramah egg, crease baykem, Anglish moppin we bodder on sigh and copy...rye?

Guest: Whatever you say.

RmSv: Tenjewberrymuds.

Guest: You're very welcome.

(Special thank to Will and Guys Clean Funny Jokes:

http://www.guy-sports.com/index.htm  )



I have been fortunate to have been around many people in my youth that taught (some would say brainwashed) me to use puns, play-on-words, and twisted humor to make it through some of life’s daily struggles.

Kathie was not the only one in Virginia, but she managed to make some of THE BEST Memories! We both managed to test one another on the limits of how much our brains could go different directions under the stress of a busy, crazy, chaotic workplace. I often would ask if there was anything she needed, or wanted while I was out. One of her standard replies was “A Million Dollars On An Ice Cream Cone.” Now, put yourself in my position, and think about how you could actually do that for someone you love. It took me a little over a year to come up with a solution on that request, but I finally gave it to her one Christmas! I will write a completely separate blog on that one…some day. Meanwhile, you will have to dig deep into your twisted thoughts to see if you can come up with how I managed to pull that one off.

The Smell of Rain, (Or Heaven Scent)

The Smell Of Rain… Or Is IT?

This is a true story.

THE SMELL OF RAIN

A cold March wind danced around the dead of night in Dallas as the doctor walked into the small hospital room of Diana Blessing. She was still groggy from surgery. Her husband, David, held her hand as they braced themselves for the latest news.

That afternoon of March 10, 1991, complications had forced Diana, only 24-weeks pregnant, to undergo an emergency Caesarean to deliver the couple's new daughter, Dana Lu Blessing. At 12 inches long and weighing only one pound and nine ounces, they already knew she was perilously premature.

Still, the doctor's soft words dropped like bombs. "I don't think she's going to make it," he said, as kindly as he could. "There's only a 10-percent chance she will live through the night, and even then, if by some slim chance she does make it, her future could be a very cruel one".

Numb with disbelief, David and Diana listened as the doctor described the devastating problems Dana would likely face if she survived. She would never walk, she would never talk, she would probably be blind, and she would certainly be prone to other catastrophic conditions from cerebral palsy to complete mental retardation, and on and on.

"No! No!" was all Diana could say. She and David, with their 5-year-old son Dustin, had long dreamed of the day they would have a daughter to become a family of four. Now, within a matter of hours, that dream was slipping away.

Through the dark hours of morning as Dana held onto life by the thinnest thread, Diana slipped in and out of sleep, growing more and more determined that their tiny daughter would live and live to be a healthy, happy young girl.

But David, fully awake and listening to additional dire details of their daughter's chances of ever leaving the hospital alive, much less healthy, knew he must confront his wife with the inevitable.

David walked in and said that we needed to talk about making funeral
arrangements.
Diana felt so bad for him because he was doing everything to try to include
her in what was going on, but she just wouldn't listen, She couldn't listen. She said, "No, that is not going to happen, no way! I don't care what the doctors say. Dana is not going to die! One day she will be just fine, and she will be coming home with us!"

As if willed to live by Diana's determination, Dana clung to life hour after hour, with the help of every medical machine and marvel her miniature body could endure. But as those first days passed, a new agony set in for David and Diana. Because Dana's underdeveloped nervous system was essentially raw, the lightest kiss or caress only intensified her discomfort, so they couldn't even cradle their tiny baby girl against their chests to offer the strength of their love.
All they could do, as Dana struggled alone beneath the ultraviolet light
in the tangle of tubes and wires, was to pray that God would stay close to
their precious little girl.

There was never a moment when Dana suddenly grew stronger. But as the weeks went by, she did slowly gain an ounce of weight here and an ounce of strength there. At last, when Dana turned two months old, her parents were able to hold her in their arms for the very first time. And two months later, though doctors continued to gently but grimly warn that her chances of surviving, much less living any kind of normal life, were next to zero, Dana went home from the hospital, just as her mother had predicted.

Then, five years later, Dana is a petite but

feisty young girl with glittering gray eyes and an unquenchable zest for
life. She shows no signs whatsoever of any mental or physical impairment. Simply, she is everything a little girl can be and more. But that happy ending is far from the end of her story.

One blistering afternoon in the summer of 1996 near her home in Irving, Texas, Dana was sitting in her mother's lap in the bleachers of a local ball park where her brother Dustin's baseball team was practicing.

As always, Dana was chattering nonstop with her mother and several other adults sitting nearby when she suddenly fell

silent. Hugging her arms across her chest, little Dana asked, "Do you smell

that?" Smelling the air and detecting the approach of a thunderstorm, Diana replied, "Yes, it smells like rain."
Dana closed her eyes and again asked, "Do you smell that?"
Once again, her mother replied, "Yes, I think we're about to get wet. It smells like rain."

Still caught in the moment, Dana shook her head, patted her thin shoulders with her small hands and loudly announced, "No, it smells like Him. It smells like God when you lay your head on His chest."

Tears blurred Diana's eyes as Dana happily hopped down to play with the other children. Before the rains came, her daughter's words confirmed what Diana and all the members of the extended Blessing family had known, at least in their hearts, all along. During those long days and nights of her first two months of her life, when her nerves were too sensitive for them to touch her, God was holding Dana on His chest and it is His loving scent that she remembers so well.

Smell the rain.

*******************************************************************************

Out of pure curiosity, I Googled this to see about the truth, or a follow-up… since Dana would now be 20 years old. There are many many references to this story, all with the same details. Snopes verifies most of it, but of course they dismiss the possibility of a child that young to have any developed sense of smell, and claim it is not likely for a child to know, or recognize what God is… or to be able to recall such details. But for those who KNOW, God IS Recognizable, And We all know we Can and DO recall such details from such a young age. There are many credible sources sharing this same story. I believe it, and will let you decide for yourself. Nobody can convince another of something they know. Each Person has to discover some things for themselves. God is one of those things I KNOW, and will stand by. If you do not yet know God, that is OK. We each have different experiences in life, and come to different conclusions. We each find our strengths in different places. For some reason, Dana’s name is recorded as both Dana, and later in her life as Danae. But Everything else in this story is validated. This story originally was titled “Heaven Scent”. Cute, and accurate! :)

A Special thanks to my Wonderful Friend, Cara for sending this to me when I most needed it in September of 2005. I just found it again, and thought it worthy to pass along to all who might need it, too! Perhaps You are in need of “Smelling The Rain”, Or Know someone who is.

I Hope You Have A Wonderful, and Safe Day! Thank You for Reading My Blog! Jon~=:-)

Using Math and Science to Back a Trailer

Learning to Back a Trailer:

(Or applying basic math, and science together)

I had many fun and unique jobs as a teenager. My employers were equally fun, and unique. They enjoyed my eagerness to tackle and learn new challenges.

One of these employers was the owner of many apartment complexes in southern Oregon. I met Greg when I was 16 and had just moved into one of his units with my Dad.

Almost immediately, Greg offered me an after school job. At first my job was mostly yard work, and landscape maintenance around the apartment complex I lived in. It did not take long for my employment to expand to quite a broad-spectrum around many of his complexes. I was soon doing the landscape maintenance for three of his Medford apartment complexes. I also started doing much of the interior apartment maintenance, too. I did not have a vehicle, so it was not uncommon to see me shuttling needed equipment precariously balanced on my bike. Sometimes I would rig-up a make-shift trailer behind my bike to shuttle the needed tools and supplies. Occasionally, but not often, he would let me drive his pickup with the supplies. Once in a rare while, he would drive me to another complex to do some work. But mostly, he expected me to figure out how to get it done by myself. I enjoyed the job, the challenge, and all the variety.

Driving, and fully knowing how to operate any vehicle has never been a challenge to me. Every time I was presented with a different type of vehicle, I took it as a personal challenge to understand, and be able to operate the vehicle with precision. I made it a personal goal to Always know where every inch of the vehicle was, and to know exactly where my view was in the mirrors. To me, operating a vehicle in a safe, and aware manner was a requirement, not an option. It seemed, there was nothing that could challenge me in operating a vehicle. This was my own personal challenge to myself… To not let a vehicle intimidate me.


Nothing about Operating a Vehicle was a Challenge for Me….
Until One Day….
….That was the day I had to learn to back-up a trailer.


Until this day, I had never driven anything with a trailer. I had never pulled a trailer forward behind a vehicle, let alone do it backwards! Most people are taught to drive a trailer in an open area, with plenty of room for mistakes, and lots of place to correct those mistakes. But on this particular day, I had to learn to back a trailer, with only a couple of feet on either side, and no place for mistakes. I had to learn backwards, before I could even attempt to learn forwards.


On this particular day, Greg told me We were going to one of his complexes in Ashland, Oregon… ten miles away from where we were. He and I loaded his truck and trailer with all the needed supplies, and we drove to Ashland. On the way, he explained what he hoped We would accomplish today. The major project was trimming every bush, shrub, and many of the trees in the complex. This was the reason for bringing along the trailer. All the trimmings would go into the trailer to be hauled away. There were also assorted minor repairs to be done inside many of the units.


As we went up the hill, he pointed out the complex on the side of the hill. Everything in Ashland was built on the side of a hill. This complex was situated both across the hill, and also angled downhill. As we pulled into the complex, the driveway, and parking went down a steep hill. The driveway was the highest point in the complex. The parking lot consisted of one main drive flanked on both sides by perpendicular parking spots. The drive dead-ended at the bottom of the complex, and the bottom of the hill. He pulled the truck and trailer all the way to the dead-end at the bottom, and parked it there. The truck was nosed against the curb, and the trailer was behind it. There were cars in parking spots on both sides, so it was tight. About half-way up the drive, was a side-“road”. This was a path for the garbage truck to access the dumpsters.

Here is photo of the complex. (It is a photo of the Google map, because I could not get the map to copy here.) But you can see the layout of the parking area. At the bottom of the picture is the street, and driveway, which was the top of the hill. The top of the picture is the bottom of the hill, and where the truck was nosed-in. On the left, you can see the little path to the dumpsters. While this picture shows many empty parking spots, on that day, they were almost all full.

Greg walked me around the complex, and made sure I understood the day’s work, then asked if I thought it could all be done in a day. Of course, I said “No Problem!” He Grinned, and said, “Good, my wife is here, and I am going to go spend the day with her. Bring the truck and trailer back to Medford when you are finished.” I told him I had never driven a trailer, and I would need it turned around before he left. He grinned again, and said, “Looks like a good time for you to learn. From what I’ve seen of your abilities, you will figure it out. Have a fun day! See you tonight when you return!” And off he went. I was little surprised, but also knew he had faith in my abilities… perhaps more than I did.

I surveyed the area, and decided there were too many cars to attempt to turn the trailer around right now. I figured I would get some work done, and watch for cars to leave, and then I could learn to back the trailer. I also was hoping someone would come along that could help me. As I did the work, and filled the trailer, I noticed no cars were leaving. A few did, but not many. Turns out this is a retirement complex. People were not leaving for work, or needing to go anywhere.


I finished-up all the work, and loaded the tools and supplies into the truck. The time had come to figure out the trailer. More appropriately, the time had come to put into action what I already knew about backing a trailer. While working, I put my brain into gear to recall everything I had read, and heard about trailers. It all boiled-down to applying simple math, and science. The properties of Math, and Science combined are what makes almost anything we do in life possible. Learning math and science was always fun, because it was shown to be relevant, and even practical. Learning about angles, levers, and force makes doing things in life so much easier.

Applying those properties is a little more complex, than just understanding them. A Trailer is simply a triangle, with the two wheels, and the hitch as all three points. The simple angles are the lines between either wheel, and the hitch. The simple angles are also the same lines. The simple force is the amount of push applied to the hitch from the truck. The simple levers are the angle(s) at which you turn the truck against the hitch. That is where the simplicity ends, and the complexity begins. It becomes complex with the angles actually extending not just to the wheels, but also to the far corners of the trailer. The force becomes complex, depending on the angle of the Lever. The angle of the truck against the hitch is actually going to move the trailer in an opposite direction, and also magnify that direction in a rather fast process. The truck turns from the front, which pushes the hitch in one direction, and the trailer pivots the opposite direction. Meaning, if you push at the point of the hitch with a slight angle, the tail-end of the trailer will go a broad-angle in the opposite direction. (Imagine pushing a triangle-shaped block across a flat surface with just a point of a pencil on the point. It does not go where you intend it to very easily. It tends to go at sharp angles, and is not easy to maintain in a straight line.)


Also add the fact that gravity is pushing against the hitch in the opposite way the truck is pushing the trailer, and it will quickly get the trailer to jack-knife. In a tight spot, there is not much room for a trailer, or a truck to go at sharp angles. I was cautiously testing the movements, and seeing which angles, and which amount of force caused which reactions on the trailer. I tried first with the mirrors, then just looking out the back window. I learned quickly that being able to get a trailer to go where you want is a matter of telling your brain to forget about how you would steer a vehicle in any other situation. Now you had to tell the brain to steer in two-directions simultaneously. You steer the truck opposite of how you want the trailer to go, but at very slight degrees. Only turn the wheel a little bit, and see how the trailer reacts, then adjust accordingly, never making any broad turns of the wheel . I also needed to watch every edge of the trailer, because of all the cars nearby. Although looking over my shoulder to back the trailer was easier to think about which way to turn, and how much, it was not very safe. I had to use the mirrors to be sure I kept the trailer away from the cars. This added a third brain-reversal. Now, not only was I having to think double-backwards, but the mirrors make everything backwards to a third-factor. But I was getting the hang of it.


Applying math and science has never been a problem for me. Learning to do it with finesse, and to a degree of keeping it functional, and even smooth is another story. I was determined to get half-way up the driveway, so I could use the little path to the dumpsters as a turn-around place. It took me a good hour, just to get half-way up the drive way. But I was Thrilled! I had gotten the hang of backing a trailer! I attempted to back the trailer into that little path, but I did not have enough room to do that. I straightened it back out, and backed up beyond the path. Then I nosed the truck into the path facing forward. This gave me enough room to angle the trailer slightly, so I could back it down the hill, and turn the corner. I learned real fast that backing a trailer downhill is much easier than uphill. I now had the truck and trailer both facing up the hill, and toward the street! Yippee! Success!


Now All I had to do, was drive the truck and trailer back to Medford. Now was the time to program my brain for how a trailer responds in a forward-motion. Pulling a trailer is much simpler than backing one. But there are still factors to keep in mind. The way a trailer tracks behind a vehicle, especially when turning is something that cannot be ignored. The trailer’s wheels do not turn in the same path as the truck’s wheel do. They follow the truck, but the arc of the turn is not as wide, so you have to account for that while making turns. Another factor is the amount of tail-swing a trailer has. The wheels are not at the back-edge of the trailer, so every turn you make, the tail of the trailer swings out in the opposite direction.


When I pulled into the complex in Medford, Greg was there. He was in the office, and looked-out with a huge smile. He came out and said, “See? I Knew you could do it!” After chatting a bit he asked if I would go park the trailer, and unload the truck. I was happy to go do this, and show him I had gotten the hang of it.


While I was not thrilled at the beginning of how this came about, I was quite pleased afterwards. Greg pushed me to a new level that day. He knew my abilities, and often pushed me to achieve them. He knew I would figure it out, and I would not give-up. He knew I would approach it in a safe, practical manner. He knew I would thrive on it. He taught me a valuable life-skill (actually many!) that day. Ever since that day, many situations have come up where I needed to back a trailer. Often when the occasion occurred, the situation was tight, and nobody else would feel comfortable in tackling it. I always stood back, and allowed the others the chance to tackle it first, and would only take control if there was no other option. Most people would assume I did not feel comfortable with trailers, because I would not step-up first. After the trailer-task was completed, I always heard the same thing from others. “How did you learn to do that?” It was simply a matter of I never like to draw attention to myself in that manner, but would do what was needed to get a job done.


Not only did Greg teach me many things, he also paid me to learn! There were many more learning adventures in the many years I worked for him. He was always eager to teach, and patient to have me learn. Using the same technique, he also taught me to operate many kinds of trucks, tractors, backhoes, bobcats, trenching machines, and other random equipment. I thrived on applying the basics learned in school to the real-world applications. I always approached each new piece of equipment in a scientific, and mathematical way. This way, I was sure I understood not only what I was doing, but why the equipment functioned in the way it did, and how to make it operate smoothly with finesse and accuracy.

Thanks For Reading My Blog! I hope you can have a greater understanding of Math and Science,…and Trailers, Too! Have a Wonderful, and Safe Day! Jon ~=:-)

"You Must Be Gay"

“You Must Be Gay”


Those words are often said to me. This happens often enough in my life, it is one of many reasons I am never quick to allow people inside my walls. I have learned in life that it is not worth getting upset over anymore. It does, however, sadden me that so many people are so quick to label me in this manner. It shows me that even though the person is in my life enough to feel they should come to this conclusion, they really have not cared enough to actually learn even the tiniest of things about who I am, and what makes me who I am.

Anyone taking even the slightest interest in getting to know me would know there is absolutely nothing about me that would indicate I am attracted to males. If they paid any attention at all, they would know that. However, if they wish to refer to the term of ‘gay’ to mean “carefree, happy, bright and showy, optimistic, or even a free-lifestyle, having no attachments”, I would be more than happy to accept their label. Sadly, most do not even know these are all definitions of the word ‘gay’, and only use the word to imply “attraction to members of the same sex”.



It would seem the main reason this comes up, is because I do not behave like most males they know. Yet, the irony in their logic is, the many things most males which they are comparing me with would in fact indicate those men are gay. Those behaviors of most men are quickly defended as “Just being men”. Now, this is where it gets interesting. People are baffled that I do not behave like most men. I seldom do anything which involves other men. This is where they feel I should be labeled as gay. Most men seek-out, and are very interested in being with other men. According to Wikipedia, “the word gay was recommended to describe people attracted to members of the same sex.” So, Why is it that those men who are in fact attracted to other men, are labeled “Men”. Yet, I am not attracted to other men, and for some reason, people want to label me “Gay”.



Before I go any further, rest assured, I have absolutely nothing against anybody and their own preferences in life. I support every lifestyle, orientation, and attraction anybody desires for their own life. I feel this is a personal choice for each individual, and that it is nobody else’s business what another finds attractive, or is attracted to. What I DO have a problem with, is people who feel they should force their choices on others. I believe people should be free to enjoy what makes them happy, and that is their business, and nobody else’s. Those who truly know Me, know I support every mix, and choice imaginable. What gets me worked-up is when people either lie about what they are, or try to force others into a lifestyle they are not interested in. This would include those who think they should label me gay, just because I am not like most men. It would be wonderful if those people would appreciate who I am, and what I stand for, instead of wanting to make me behave like the very people who they claim they cannot trust.

I am hardly homophobic. Heck, the gay guys are less creepy than the ones who claim to be straight! And those who are openly gay, are happy to accept me the way I am. It is the ones who claim to be straight that want to convert me into their lifestyle. Often the openly gay guys act less gay than the supposedly straight ones.



Now, You tell me… Who is gay, and who is not?

People are quick to label me gay, but they cannot come up with a valid reason for that label. Yet those same people defend the men who are attracted to other men. This conversation makes those guys who claim to be straight extremely angry. For some reason, they have never looked at their own behavior in this manner. Those men who are attracted to other men, yet claim to be straight refuse to see anything that would normally be considered gay as applied to them. So I have to ask, Why are so many men afraid to admit they are either Gay, or possibly Bi? They openly go about their life, and are not at all ashamed to show their affection, and attraction to other men, but the moment someone suggests their behavior would indicate a gay lifestyle, they get extremely angry.

Women seldom fall into this category. Most women are open about their attraction to other women. It is widely accepted, and even encouraged by most men, and women. But for some reason the same is not true with men. Men and women are not willing to accept the man’s gay lifestyles. Perhaps that is the key? Maybe once the women openly accept that many men have a gay (or Bi) lifestyle, and not look at it as a bad thing, then possibly the men will stop lying about who they are. Why do so many women defend, and deny the gay lifestyle of their men? For some reason, it seems most of society wants men to be called straight, even when they are openly Gay, or Bi. And at the same time, it seems most of society wants, and encourages women to live a Gay, or Bi lifestyle, and have no problem with it. Why is our society so hung up on these labels?



There is not a person who knows me that would claim I have any attraction to males. There is no denying my attraction to women. So it always baffles me when someone feels they should say “You Must Be Gay.” Would they rather I treated women in a slanderous, rude, and derogatory manner? I treat women with respect. I find great value in all that a woman is. I appreciate women for the wonderful human, the wonderful individual, the intelligent person, and the whole person they are as an individual. The people who wish me to act like the men they hate, yet so quickly defend, can go somewhere else to force their wishes on someone else. I will not give up what is important to me, or treat women poorly for them to feel I fit their ideal of how a man should behave in their own rude life. I have stopped getting upset over the shallowness, and rudeness of many in our society, but this sort of thing does not help me to find the good in my fellow human. I often find myself withdrawing further, and digging deeper into these sorts of issues for my own benefit, to possibly, and hopefully find something, anything that would convince me to not give-up all hope for humans. The more I learn about Humans, the more I want to rid the Earth of all Humans, and let nature reclaim this planet.



I will write a separate blog to address the reasons I see many males who claim to be straight as actually living a gay, or bi lifestyle.

Hopefully, some of those who do this will read this, and possibly learn to treat their fellow human with a little more care and respect. This subject has come up while at work, by coworkers, and I cannot bring up such deep and controversial topics at work. I am paid to work while there, and must keep my opinions to a minimum. Sadly, the same does not seem to apply to others. Others can be extremely slanderous, and rude with no fear of possibly losing their jobs. When I bring this up to Management, or Human Resources, I am told that I am held to a higher level of accountability because I DO know better. They defend the ones who misbehave saying “they do not know any better”. I am positive that if I said such rude things to another, I would immediately be fired. I occasionally will say a little while at work, but know the acceptable limits. I Can, and Will Post my opinions on my own blog, on my own time. Maybe you know someone who is affected similarly, and you can share this with them, so they know they are not alone in their struggles. If my writings help even one person, then you have just discovered the reason I exist on this place we call Earth. Even if that help is in the form of something to help take their mind off their own troubles for a moment. Or if it helps someone to better understand another in their own life. Any way I can help another is the purpose for my life. I write, and express my thoughts for the sole purpose of creative expressionism, to find an outlet for my own troubles. I make them public, because I have benefitted from other’s writings in the same manner. I appreciate what has been given, and I happily pass that giving along to others.



I Hope You have a Safe and Wonderful Day! Thank You for reading My Blog! Jon~=:-)