The True Spirit of Halloween

(This is not my cat, but I wish I had thought of it...)

Let me tell you why I like Halloween. It's a purely sadistic reason. Chris doesn't *think* she likes Halloween so I take it upon myself every year to convince her otherwise. We have our own Halloween ritual that goes something like this...

"I hate Halloween, gah..."
"I know honey... I'm not really excited about it either. Should I get some candy anyway?"
"Ugh. Why? So a bunch of teenagers who don't even bother to put on a costume can pander at our house? You can if you want, but you have to watch the door."
"Ok... I'll take care of it."

(four bags of candy later)

BING BONG
"Murf urf turf"

"Whoa aren't you spooky! Here's some candy."
"Why is that kid dressed in the Scream mask? He can't be older than seven. Did his mother actually let him watch that movie? What's wrong with these people?"
"I don't know baby. That movie's older than he is, I suspect those masks are cheap these days."
"This holiday is ridiculous."

BING BONG
"Twick or tweet"

"Aw... Here ya go little ninja. Hey Chris, you just missed the cutest little assassin."
"Sigh... you're just perpetuating the problem. If we don't feed them, they'll quit coming."
"Then I wouldn't get to watch this tiny unicorn with baggy legs wobble around!"
"Really?"
"Yeah, if you hurry you can see her try to climb our stairs"
"Oh! Hee-hee! Look! Here comes a little bumblebee!"

That's when I know I've got her. At least for a little while.

But also, just as importantly, if we hadn't been giving out candy, we wouldn't have met our neighbors right across the street (who we've just been watching with a condescending eye from behind our curtains for the last 6 months.) With one of the kids dressed in a Star Trek uniform, we probably should have known that we had things in common. Then the mom says, "Have you guys seen Babylon5? My husband loves that show," and it was like the heavens opened up for my wife. "I'm watching it right now in the other room!" Chris replied.

So yeah, if it turns out she knits, I'll probably never see my wife again, but at least I'll know where to find her.

American History GenY

So I'm at our local movie rental place the other night looking for something "We both can watch" and I see two of my favorite teenage stereotypes; thin crazy haired boy and darkling lip-pierced girl. Yes, you know them. They looked exactly as you are picturing them in your head. Anyway, I'm at the checkout counter with 1408 (you know, because Stephen King is a fun-for-the-whole-family kind of guy) And I'm listening to this girl build her case for why she should be allowed to rent an R-rated movie without any of the following:
a) A card or account at the store
b) Being 18
c) Consent from anyone over 18 with an account

After the old "I've looked everywhere" line and the "I turn 18 in 2 weeks" argument, she fesses up that the movie she's been dying to see is American History X

Now this was honestly disturbing to me. Partially because I had totally blocked out how rattling that movie was, and it had completely fallen off any of my Top10 movie lists. For me, it was a powerful and effective movie, but it's a movie you shouldn't get excited about seeing. If you haven't seen it, the 2 cent summary is it's a Neo-Nazi movie about hate and redemption. But if you're anticipating ENJOYING American History X, then you aren't old enough to watch it. There. I've said it. I guess I'm old now. Back in my day, the cool kids had all seen Clockwork Orange against our parents wishes. But we were also reading it in English class... And if this girl, in all of her black eyeliner glory had been trying to charm out a Shindler's List DVD, I would have had the same reaction.

The other thing that bothered me was that I knew there was nothing I could say that would convince her otherwise. It's a heavy movie. Any form of "Wait" would have only strengthened her resolve. The girl behind the counter said No, and the situation was never really in my hands, but I couldn't think of anything I would have said other than, "No because I said so." That frustrates me. There should be a more convincing logic than that (not that "I'm the adult and ultimately I'm responsible" isn't a logical argument.)

So GothGirl, if you're reading, Go rent BoonDock Saints, or The Shining, or Fight Club or something else fun and naughty on your 18th birthday (whenever that may actually be.) Save AHX, Platoon, Memento, and Saving Private Ryan until picking up the DVD doesn't make you all giddy.

My little Pestilence...

If you're a reader of Chris's blog, you're probably familiar with the 4 kittens we 'acquired' (read: found in our backyard) early this spring. The Kittens of the Apocalypse, (that would be Famine, Pestilence, War and Death,) have become a constant source of reward and frustration. As much as we enjoy the little fleabags, taking care of them comes with some sacrifice. For one, our backyard has become a big green, private litterbox, which isn't surprising given how much they eat. Also, I noticed that we don't have any birds this year, go figure. But lastly, Chris and I have done our best to stay emotionally distant from these strays. We know we can't take them in, and yet we also know that they won't make it through the winter without our help. So for the past 4 months we've gone back and forth about how much we were going to take care of these cats. To feed or not to feed? Do we get them neutered so we don't have 800 cats next year? What are we going to do in the winter?

So last Sunday, Chris and I get in the car to head to church and find that Pestilence had been hit by a car the night before. Let me just preface this with the fact that I had absolutely no intention of getting attached to this cat. It's an outdoor cat. Outdoor cats starve, freeze, or get hit by cars. Logically I know this, and I've seen her dart in front of my car in the driveway. I have even given myself the, "We'll take care of these cats as long as we can..." speech several times. But here's what makes Pestilences death so frustrating... of the 4 kittens, she was the one that we had nurtured the most. Over the summer months she went from staying 3 yards away to walking over my feet to get to the food. During her brief stay in our basement after being spade, she'd nuzzle and let us pet her. Oh, and we haven't even gotten that Visa bill yet either. Sigh... Twist that tiny dagger...

So this is the part where I learned more about myself than I want. I don't know where I thought death-coping skills came from, but I was reminded that I don't have any. I am apparently a sensitive sentimental dope who grieves uncontrollably for feral animals. So I buried this cat, in hopes of some form of closure and that maybe it'll be easier next time around.

I find it interesting to see how people react when you tell them that you're grieving, probably because I'm really self-conscious about how I react to other people's tragedies. One of my cat-hating friends gave me a genuine, "That sux, I'm sorry" which I appreciate on many levels. He could have joked or laughed. He didn't, that was a gift. I think one of my other friends, who also recently lost an outdoor cat, summed it up as, "No more cats for us, too much heartbreak."

Indeed.


(Really when else would I get to use this picture?)

So, in case you're wondering, we're batting a thousand on ironic names. War is the friendliest, Death is still alive, Famine is always the first to the food dish, and Pestilence never got sick.

Turning 35

Here's pretty much how my day went today...

-"End of the World as We Know It" by REM was the first song I heard on the radio
-Slogged through work... being the Friday of a three day weekend, it was a pretty low energy day. I had some good fixes, just didn't do much to get ahead.
-Got a card from Brian at lunch that contained a "gift certificate" that expired 2 years ago. Thanks B... wasn't really planning on cashing that one in anyway.
-Got to be 'the voice of the district' today as I was asked to voice over about 5 sentences for the automated phone system. If you call and want to know more information about the District Truancy Policy, I'll tell you!
-Got a voice mail of my sister singing Happy Birthday, complete with cha-cha-cha's.
-Fought the holiday traffic all the way home, so I called Megan at school to let her know that NickleBack was on the radio (it's an inside joke of ours that NickleBack is ALWAYS playing on the radio somewhere in the Rockford area.)
-Played my first open mike night at The Brick cafe, with Matt and Mark. Jim couldn't make it :-( Matt sang and played solo for the first time (amplified.) Mark brought harmonicas so he played along with MTA and Cows with Guns, then we did Million Dollars together. Mark also did accoustic versions of "Hit Me Baby One More Time," and REO Speedwagon. Totally forgot to sing my one birthday song, but I did do Proper Cup of Coffee.
-After that, Matt and I went straight across the street to a bar and Kareoke'd for 2 hours. We both got carded, which always makes us codgers feel young again. We were then told by the bartender that if you get THAT excited about getting ID'd, it's a dead giveaway that you're not underage. It's the first time I've done Kareoke and it was great because pretty much all the regulars were at the On The Waterfront Festival, so we had the place to ourselves and could try anything we wanted. And really... what better way to celebrate than to sing songs poorly to strangers?
-Save Tonight (Eagle Eye Cherry)
-Tainted Love (Soft Cell)
-Over Now (Cause and Effect)
-Glycerine (Bush)
-Hemmorhage (Fuel)
-With or Without You (U2)
Note that this list is in chronological order as well as "songs in my vocal range" in descending order. All facts considering, Hemmorhage went pretty well. I got to use my rockstar voice! :-) U2, however, I probably should have left for Bono.
Matt did really well too. Of course he's not stuck in the 80's/90's like me, so he sang Johnny Cash, The Who, Floyd, Queen, and Chuck Berry. He too tried his hand at a U2 song but was smart enough to sing it an octave lower (and earlier in the night...) but loose enough to do the Johnny B Goode dance.
-Lastly I got a, "Happy F-ing, Birthday" from some woman wearing way too much pink on our way out.
-Home by 12:30 because I'm an animal.

Ta-DAH! And now I'm 35. HOO-WEE!

I'll take "Things I don't want to discuss in the dentist chair" for $100, Alex.

Last week I found myself being talked at by the new girl at the dentist's office. I'm not exactly sure what her position is, or what she's aspiring to be, but I do know that it was too early for me to discuss much of anything with anybody. So I'm sitting in the chair, she's fiddling with things that are supposed to be sterile, and she starts making conversation.

"Is it hot out there yet?"
"No, it's still pretty cool" (it's 8:15 in the morning)
"Did you see gas prices today?"
"No, I bought gas yesterday"
"How much was it then?"
"3.25"
"That's what it is today! It's rediculous."
"yeah."
"I hear it's going up to 3.50"
"Hmm," I muttered as I start looking around the room for something I can shove in my mouth so I can just grunt non-committal responses for the rest of this discussion.
Now, you've probably read the above conversation one of two ways. Either you're thinking that it's pleasant and superficial, or you're saying to yourself that after I made two "No..." statements, she should have figured out that small talk was not a service I required. I fall into the latter category because I'm sure I didn't accidentally say no... twice.
I hear some drawers open and close behind me while I try to settle into the chair. And then the talking picks up again.
"You know the holocaust? Are you familiar with that term?"

???

"Uh-huh" I choke out, trying not to sound as shocked and horrified as I really was.
"Ever since I was a kid, I thought that I would live to see another one."

I'm absolutely speechless. So I do the only thing I can. I wait to see if that was a definitive statement or if she's expecting me to somehow respond. The awkwardness doesn't last long, she breaks the silence with, "Yeah, it's getting so bad, it won't be long before people can't afford bread anymore."

Ok, So here's what I figured out...
1) She was still talking about gas prices
2) I AM familiar with The Holocaust. I am also familiar with The Depression.
3) If there's a chance you might confuse the two, don't bring either of them up in conversation. Frankly, it's offensive.

I've never been so happy to see the Dentist walk through the door in all my life.

Welcome to Michigan, We're too damn big!

Ok, so Chris and I spent Memorial Day weekend visiting her side of the family in the Traverse City area. Let me start by saying that yes, Michigan is absolutely beautiful, pretty much any time of the year. This weekend everything was green green green. I think for the 36 hours we were up, the lens cap was on Chris's camera for about 6 seconds. A good time was had by all, so let me make it clear that I have no argument with the asthetic value of Michigan. What I have a problem with, is that it's a deceptively flippin huge state. I swear we somehow spend about 6 hours more in the car than I'm expecting, and this trip was no exception. I've noticed this on our yearly trips to Grand Rapids, and I have a theory about that... Here's a couple of simple math problems to illustrate what I like to call "Michigan Time Dilation Theory": If Chris's parents live in Grand Rapids, and her Aunt and Uncle live in Grand Rapids, how long does it take to get from her parents to her uncle's house? Those of us in the Chicago area would probably say something like "20 minutes in bad traffic" to get from one side of a suburb to another, but the correct Michigan answer is 45 minutes. So take a second to wrap your mind around that. If your brain drew a picture of a city and put Chris's parent's in one extreme corner, and her uncle's house in the other, you'd be correct. So, just to see how city-mouse savvy you are answer this, "What is the fastest way to get from one house to the other, taking the bypass around Grand Rapids, or cutting straight through the center of town?" If you answered "Neither, they both take 45 minutes" you'd be correct. Now somehow, that makes sense to me if the houses are in opposite corners, but I just thought I'd point that out. So lets add another variable, Question: "Chris's cousin also lives in Grand Rapids. How long does it take to get from Chris's parents house to her cousins?" Solution: 45 minutes. Fine, so logically the cousins house is somewhere in the vacinity of her uncle's, right?. So given that answer, deduce how long it take to get from Chris's Uncle's house to her cousins house?" 5 minutes? 15 minutes max? Wrong. 45 minutes. With the introduction of the cousin's house, it basically proves that a random point between her parents and her uncles house will also take the same amount of time to reach. Now I know what you're thinking... you're saying to yourself, "You're full of crap. I took geometry, if points A, B, and C are equidistant, it's not a conspiracy, it's a flippin triangle." And you might think that, until you look at a map of Grand Rapids. It's roughly square, and as you can see, this is about where normal Euclidian arithmetic starts to break down. We've already shown that taking the bypass around town takes the same amount of time as cutting diagonally through it, so apparently Pythagoras and that theorem of his never made it this far north. Taking that one step further, any point on a path between two end points will take the same amount of time to reach as it would to go straight from A to B. What do you call that? I'd call it a rip in the fabric of the time-space continuum. You might call it Grand Rapids, Michigan.
I've witnessed this phenomena around Grand Rapids many times. Sometimes it's amusing, often, it's just frustrating. Think about it, what if everytime you got in the car, it was going to take you 45 minutes to reach your destination? How do people live there? What I didn't realize is that apparently similiar anomalies happen throughout the state. Take for instance this weekend. Chris and I drove up through Wisconsin up to Manitowoc (just south of GreenBay) and took the ferry directly across Lake Michigan to Luddington, MI. On the map, Traverse City is "just north" of Luddington, so how long did it take us to get from Luddington to Traverse City? 2 hours. How long would it have taken us to go from Manitowoc "just north" to GreenBay? 45 minutes. Fine, and here's the other kicker. Our actual destination was Mancelona, which is "just outside" Traverse City. And THAT took another hour. I'm no cartographer, but I suspect that no matter which direction Mancelona is from Traverse City, it would have taken us an additional hour to get there. So I submit to you two things: The farther north you go in Michigan, the further apart everything is, and this continues indefinitely. Also, my wife has told me on several occasions, Grand Rapids is indeed the center of the universe. I don't know if that's true, but I can prove that it certainly doesn't play by the same rules as the rest of us.

I am tourist, hear me whine

I can't believe it's been nearly a year since I really blogged...
Well, right now I'm on a 3 hour flight to Salt Lake City with the better part of a laptop battery and a fully charged iPod, and nuthin to do but get a little caught up... So here I am and you're my captive audience.
This is my first solo flight. I'm usually the brave one left to guard the homestead, not the one boldly going. Catching the bus was simple, and getting through security was a dream, once the MAN confiscated my Dr. Pepper. (Guess I forgot that a 12oz can is greater than 3oz...) Anyway, I'm sure it goes without saying that my flight was at gate 17 out of 18 and therefore at the far end of the terminal. What surprised me though, is that Gate 17 is actually FARTHER than 18. Thank you OHare. Anyway, I digress... So their I am, at my gate, a solid hour before boarding, and then I have to start making decisions. Flight is at 6pm which means there's no meal. I can deal with that. But now I have to decide which cleverly disguised 'restaurant' at the airport has food with the least amount of evil in it. You can pretty much kiss any actual nutrients goodbye. I've accepted that too. But that doesn't mean that I can't make an intelligent choice. After all, I have close to an hour, I should be able to find something so I start looking, full baggage en tow, because you know, I wouldn't want some loon to load up my carry-on with c4 while I'm not looking. First up, Starbucks. I asked myself one question, Do I want to have to pee in the next 3 hours? No Starbucks, QED. Next, McDonalds. Again, Do I want the runs while belted into an airplane seat? Then, after passing about 4 'bookstores' (i.e really expensive magazine racks) I came to pretty much the gates of nutrition hell, the OHare concourse food court. I believe Obi Wan said it best when he said, "No where in the galaxy will you find a more whetched hive of scum and villany than at an airport food court." So this is kind of like your average mall food court except it's totally evil. They know that if you're there, you're desperate. I'm pretty much convinced that their intention is not to feed, but to mock. Why else would you have a chinese fast food joint at the gateway of flight? Oh please, let ME sit next to the guy that's all MSG'ed up and quivering. That'd be fantastic. Otherwise you can pretty much choose from sugar, fat, or fatty sugar. And then I see Satan wrapped in a tortilla. Burritoville. Now come ON! Only the devil himself would offer a weary traveller a burrito before catching a connecting flight.
So at this point I panic, which is exactly what they want. They want you to rely on your fallback foods... so I step up to the counter of some Pseudo-Americana Grill, which btw, "Grill" is pronounced "boiled" at OHare. And before I realize what I've done, I've ordered the CornBeef. Yes, I wanted a meal that wouldn't leave me gassy, bloated, or uncomfortable for my flight so deftly avoided the burritos only to land face first into a Reuben. I've become what I detest.
So far though, my seatmates haven't keeled over, but I'll keep you posted as the situation "develops."

As a side note, Theresa's Bizarro twin is on this flight. Pretty much T's features, all just a little more pronounced and angular. She even has lighter hair layered over dark, which I believe is opposite Theresa's. Like I said, Bizzaro. But lest you think I only have eyes for T, I've seen about 45 guys that all match my general desciption. Brown short hair, meduim build, glasses... your basic throughbread Midwestern geek archtype. Yeah, this plane is full of us. It's like we're all going to the same convention or something. I swear, someday I'm going to rob a bank and make the police question about 75% of the Mississippi Valley, just to prove my point... there's too many nerdy white guys around here. Somebody's going to figure that out one of these days and start thinning our herd. How hard would it be to put up a sign that says "Magic: the Gathering tournament This Way" in front of a bear trap? Seriously, most of us are either too nearsighted to focus in on a large pointy object at our feet, or we would be too engrossed in tweaking our Decks to notice. Open season, dog. Open season.

Farewell to thee Mine Cheetos, I shall miss thee most of all.

So, I made the mistake a couple weeks ago of sitting down at one of those blood pressure machines for the first time since high school. You know the one's I'm talking about, that machine innocently sitting in front of a pharmacy that calls to you and says, "Hey big boy, let me sqeeze your arm for a minute... unless you aren't man enough." Bear in mind that in high school, I ran crosscountry and could get my heart rate down to 48 bpm. So I did what any real man would do when taunted by a chair, I took the bait and insisted my wife check her blood pressure. "I'm always low," she says rolling up her sleave. "Yeah, me too." I said casually, not to be outdone, because you know, 15 years ago I was... So 45 seconds later, happy little green numbers popup and Chris is putting on her coat. "See, I'm always low." she quips. So now it's my turn, and I ever so smoothly do a little circular dance as I try to get my left arm out of my coat. Then I somehow manage to wedge into the seat with my winter coat lodged somewhere between my right arm and my spine. While trying to convince myself that I'm comfortable in the happy white chair suddenly, the life is getting wrung out of me one limb at a time I realize the absurdity of the situation. I have now willingly shackled myself to a chair in a public setting in the hopes of somehow out-bloodpressuring my wife. I know full well, that the trick to getting a good score is to relax. So while all the blood that wants to be in my arm stays in my torso, and my vision goes purple, I'm trying to tell myself that this is perfectly normal. Finally the deathgrip releases and my pale left arm flushes red, I open my eyes and see alarmed orange numbers BLINKING on high alert. As if to say, "By the gods man! Orange is one step away from RED!" Or more accurately, "I WILL CONTINUE TO BLINK THESE NUMBERS UNTIL YOUR WIFE COMMENTS."

"Borderline Hypertension, huh? Didn't see that coming" she says.

The chair smirks and with satisfaction, stops blinking.

So I've pretty much decided that knowing you have high bloodpressure is the worst thing possible for ever trying to lower it. So I do what all geeks do when they panic, I hightail it to the internet. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of looking for medical advice on the worlds largest hypochodriac network, let me tell you... Theories about hypertension range from "totally expected as individuals get older" to "You will be dead by the time you finish reading this senten... GAK!" Would you care to guess what the perscribed remedy is? Yep, you got it, diet, exercise, and keep your sodium intake in check. I'm pretty sure that's clinic-ese for "It's your own damn fault, deal with it" but whatever, I'll play your sick little game, stupid chair. So I did some more research. Do you have any idea how many things have soduim in them? Holy crap it's everywhere! I'm pretty sure if my iPod had nutitional information listed, it'd show soduim content. Finding out that all of my favorite foods cause hypertension was NOT helping the cause. But the kicker was Cheetos. The little 1 oz bags that are pretty much what you suck off your fingers when you polish off a real bag, contain 25% of your daily Sodium allowance. That means you could literally inhale a quarter of your days sodium just by walking next to someone with an open bag. Unbelieveable. It's like secondhand Sodium. Next time remind me how much I enjoy staying ignorant and tense.

Random Quote of the day from Brainshare, "If you fantasize about putting users in a blender, Get help. They're heavy."

The good, the Band, and the Ugly

Aw crap... there was a bunch of stuff I've been thinking about all day, and now I can't remember any of it...
Coupla things... I'll be playing at the Elgin EVFree Church coffee house this Friday, so that's cool. Molly won't be around, but at least the Dean's will be there and possibly some Belvidere folk lookin' for an evening on the cheap. :)
Also, Pam talked to me about playing for the Cancer WalkAThon again... I'm the first "musician" asked (at least that's what she told me... she knows how to play on my ego...) which means theoretically I get my choice of time slots. I'm kinda torn. There's something magical about whatever shift I had last year (Midnight to 2?) It was kinda cool knowing that even if I was really bad and annoying, at least I was keeping people awake... which was really what I was there to do. On the other hand, more people might come if I take an earlier shift... On the other hand some other band might not be willing to take a later slot... Maybe Jim will join me? Carp. Decisions...x3

Meanwhile... I know what I was thinking... Friend of mine mentioned how exhausting it is to 'hang out' when you're with the wrong people... the ones who turn hanging out into hanging on... Boy Howdy. I'd like to say that it goes away as you get older and wiser and as your friends get cooler, but the truth is that the right person at the wrong time is often just as bad as the wrong person (regardless of timing.)
Back in the paleolithic era, when I was in the band, we were up in front 5 days a week and usually twice on Sunday. Then at night we were guests in somebodies house who we didn't know. Point is, the only time we didn't have to be "on" was when we were travelling, so needless to say, alot of emotion was released on the other band folk. But every once and a while we'd end up back in a town we had already toured, and sometimes even with the same host family. Even more rarely, they'd be cool and say something like, "Don't worry about entertaining us, whatever you need to do, do it. If you need to go in your room, put on your walkman and veg that's cool, we understand." Occasionally we'd believe them and it was wonderful, but for the most part you thanked them for the offer and hung out and watched whatever they were watching on TV and tried to be nice to whatever animal was sniffing your groin and made the best of it. You know, for the most part, it was great but sometimes it didn't matter who you were with, it was just the wrong time. And you excused yourself with a, "It's not you, it's me" look on your face. Sometimes you just had to assess the situation and realize that either you were the one in the worst shape or that the situation wasn't 'fixable' so there was no point in banging your head against some issue you could do nothing about.
The two main lessons were 1) You can't be 'ON' 24/7 and that you don't have to expect yourself to be. And 2) When you go 'OFF' it can be done gracefully or you can do it ugly. Trust is a big factor in the latter. If you can look the closest 'target' and say, "Listen, I'm done. If I say or do something inappropriate, it's not your fault and I apologize in advance." Just having someone that you can say that to tends to help reduce your likelihood of doing something you regret later.
Gotta remember that the next time I'm asked for marital/dating advice...
Alright, enough ... whatever you call this... I'm sure there's something more important I should have written about.

Creationism vs. VeggOutism

Well, today was pretty amazing after spending most of the working day being generally irritated and feeling overlooked and under paid, I had an amazing evening getting seriously Guitarded with Matt and Jim. It was perfect because Jim had already written a song and we had lyrics w/o a tune to another so we were able to just dive right in and start playing and trying to work up a melody. It was a blast and a great kick off for our non-existant band which we lovingly refer to as, "Five Taco Special" or "Them Taco" or whatever as long as 'Taco' is in the name.
A word about the word Taco: no slander intended, it's just a funny word, and thus has worked its way into just about every creative outburst I've had since Matt came back to the district. From 'The Sound of Tacos' to 'Revenge of the Taco Vendor Soundtrack' Tacos have been a persistant theme in my 'repetiore.' Fortunately, now that the BAND is called 5TS or whatever, we've been released from the bondage of singing about Tacos... although we still do sing about them on occasion, we don't have to. Incidentally, if we ever actually get 5 people in the band, we'll have to rename it... it would just make things way to literal.
Anyway, it was great to do something creative... it feels like it's been eons since I've allowed music to be created and really flow out. I like the computer stuff, but I've been really unbalanced for quite a while and this was really refreshing.

And since I'm feeling like giving a vocabulary lesson, here's one I fear: ChairAss