Shameless Promotion

The Josh Weckesser Dance Spectacular

Year 3:

LIVE NUDE ART!

The Galaxie
2603 W. Barry Ave.

Chicago, IL 60618

Friday, October 3, 2008. 8pm.

Saturday, October 4, 2008. 2pm.

Saturday, October 4, 2008. 8pm.

Tickets $15 / $10 with a hard luck story
(Hard luck story need not be true /
best hard luck story gets their money back)
E-mail JWDS.info@gmail.com for reservations.

Faith and Works: Parts 1 & 2 (together at last)

“I need to tell you a story, and I need for you to tell me how it’s going to end.”

When I was 15 years old I met a girl. Trite as that sounds, that’s where this story, and mostly my story, begins. I was in high school. I was a theatre kid. I spent a vast majority of my time, in and around the theatre department, and that, of course is how I met her. Her name was Erin. She was a techie, and she specialized in being a stage manager. She was actually great at it because the key tenants of being a quality stage manager are organization and patience. She could put together a rehearsal script, organize a cast, and be an ear and shoulder for all the emotional baggage that comes with a group of high school kids. I liked her right away.

Erin was almost a full year older than me. When I first got to know her she already had a boyfriend. That wasn’t surprising to me really given what I thought of her. Clearly others could see what I saw. What was surprising was that she talked to me in the first place. I wasn’t really good looking, or athletic, or graceful, or anything that a high school girl looks for. There was no reason for her to like me really, but she did. We became friends, and when it became apparent that her current relationship was on it’s way out, I was a sympathetic, if not completely neutral, ear. However, it wasn’t as easy as “she left him and fell into my arms.” That would have been strange, and wrong, and wouldn’t make for nearly as good a story.

After she’d been single for a while (read: matter of days) I asked her out. It should be made clear that no high school kid has any idea what that really means. In fact when you ask someone “out” in high school you’re really saying “I like you. Do you like me enough to spend a little extra curricular time with me doing something that could be painfully awkward? Maybe? Please?” Not surprisingly, she said no. What was surprising was that she had a good reason. See, at the time, I had never attended church. I would have said that I self identified as Christian, but my belief in God, or Jesus, and my “Faith” was pretty much enough to get by at weddings and funerals so that I didn’t feel like I was going to hell by setting foot in a church when necessary. Erin was a bit more practiced at it. In fact, she wasn’t interested in dating me because she thought I was pretty much a heathen. Which I pretty much was I guess. The thing was I really liked her. And I wasn’t about to let a little thing like God get in the way of that, especially not when I could do something about it.

I’m part Irish. And that’s the part I identify with a great deal. I’m also Welsh, and Apache, but since I don’t look Apache and there’s nothing really interesting about being Welsh, I just stick with the Irish. In high school I started to come into the Irish loving part of my life. And this was evident in the jewelry I wore (mostly rings and necklaces), as well as the attitude I had when people talked about their families. I was quick to point out I was Irish at any turn. I had had these conversations with Erin, who was a bit more Irish than I was. Her last name started with an O’. I was jealous of that. It made me like her even more. Erin’s birthday was also close to St. Patrick’s Day. So for her 17^th birthday, a few months after she had said no to me, I orchestrated the single greatest gambit of my life. I gave her the gift of a sterling silver necklace with an Irish cross pendant. For the unknowing, an Irish cross has a circle in the center of it, so the beams of the cross meet at a circle. This particular pendant went a step further and the circle was a claddagh, which is a traditional Irish symbol for romance evoking the ideas of love, friendship, and loyalty. In effect, what I was saying with this one gesture was that I was still interested, and not nearly as much of a heathen as you thought. Later that day she invited me to church with her on Sunday. I said yes.

To this day I don’t believe she was really sure about wanting to date me until we were in church together. I think maybe she thought there was the possibility I might burst into flame while praying, or that my head might spin around when Jesus was mentioned. She saw something in me that day that lit her up like a beacon. She was so excited after that first church service. So was I. I had simultaneously gained something I wanted, and something I didn’t know I’d been missing. My gambit to win this girl had worked in ways I hadn’t expected. I found myself in a community of people who loved God, and I grew to love Him as well. Not only that, but I had a partner who stood by me, and nurtured my spiritual growth.

In many ways, Erin and my relationship is directly linked to our Faith. It started in that church, and grew from there. We did most of the things that high school kids do, with a few exceptions. We didn’t have sex because we promised to save ourselves for marriage. This was a tough task, made more difficult by our tendency to skirt the edge of what was allowable pretty often. Made difficult also by the fact that after being together for about a month, we got engaged. I asked, she said yes. So saving yourself for a marriage you know is coming, and you know to whom it’s coming, is pretty hard on the hormones.

Erin and I knew that no one would take us seriously if we told them we were engaged right away. So, we decided to wait one year and one month from our engagement to tell our families and friends. There’s a lot that fills that time, but that’s not what this story is about. I will say that we were passionate about each other and the life we planned to build together. I look back on that time now with nothing but fondness, and appreciation for the romantic and spiritual partner she was to me then. Eventually the time came to tell our parents about our engagement. They responded in the best way I think they could have: measured skepticism. They were supportive, but they all knew we were young, and that the odds were pretty well stacked against us, no matter what we thought or felt. I distinctly remember the car ride home from the announcement dinner when my Mother asked me if Erin was pregnant, just to be sure there wasn’t some alternate reason for this. I later found out that Erin’s parents asked her the same thing.

That Spring and Summer were definitely some of the happiest times of my life. So what happened? Well, they don’t call it Fall for nothing. Erin was going away to college that year, and I still had another year of high school to get through. It’s things like this that you can plan for all you want, but you won’t know what’s happening until it does. And then it’s too late. At my best I can say that Erin and I grew apart without each other around all the time. For my part I tried to make her feel bad about being away from me by subtly suggesting she was unhappy at college. I also started spending more time hanging out with other friends of mine, who didn’t understand that I had been happy before, and instead made me feel like I had missed out on all the fun of high school by being tied to someone else. My real problem is that I’m a socially adapting creature. I tend to fit the mold of the group, or the individual that I spend the most time with. I’ve gotten better about this, and I loose myself less these days. But then I simply went with what seemed a good idea at the time. So, Erin and I moved inexorably toward our end.

The strangest part is that I can’t for the life of me recall how it actually ended. I don’t remember a break up conversation, or phone call, or note. I don’t remember tears, or apologies, or yelling. I have a vague memory of Erin telling me that I could pursue another girl I had mentioned once as someone I would be interested in if Erin didn’t exist. I don’t remember where that conversation took place, or why she thought that was something she should say. I do remember that over the Christmas holiday, not too long after we had ended, my Father and Step-Mom wanted to take Erin and I out to dinner. They didn’t know we were over yet. Erin agreed to go. It wasn’t bad, I remember that. I’m not sure I’ve ever broken up with someone since who I would have been okay going to dinner with my family so soon after the fact.

After we broke up I didn’t stop going to Church. Erin had introduced me to my Faith, and even shaped it in many ways, but the end of us, wasn’t the end of it. It wasn’t until years later that I would loose myself, and my relationship with God. And for the second time in my life, Erin would bring me to something I didn’t know I’d been missing.

“How do you say ‘I’m looking at what I want?’”

Four weeks ago now I found Erin again. But you don’t know what that really means, so we’ll get to that later. After Erin and I broke up things get a little fuzzy for me, like I said, but they get even fuzzier over the years. I know that last year of high school involved a lot of acting out on my part, and a lot of displacement of emotions. I never really grieved over the end of our relationship. I didn’t know how. I threw myself into other things, at other things, at other people. With little to no success I might add. In fact once everyone you know is aware of your engagement, and subsequent loss of it, it’s hard to get them to see much else. No disrespect to the friends of mine who continued to look at me as a person and not a mistake, because I probably wouldn’t have lasted long without them. Luckily I stopped getting rejected from all the colleges I wanted to go to, and found one that would take me, as well as be the best place for me. It’s not lost on me that all the places I wanted to go had to deny me before I found a place I’d never heard of that I would come to love the most. And with college came the opportunity to reinvent myself.

By the time I had landed in Chicago and really settled myself, I had gone through two long distance relationships back to back. A last ditch effort on my part to hold on to high school, and to do some things I hadn’t had the stones to do while I was there. I spent college doing what college kids do. Only, I had a bit more of a moral center than most of the actors I spent my time with. Or at least I did at the beginning. I stayed clear of drugs, and promiscuousness, though I can’t say my relationships improved much in that time. I call it the three month period of my life, because that’s how long any relationship I was in tended to last. The cycle went something like this: Month 1 – get together and be crazy about each other. Month 2 – settle down a bit, and conduct what by most standards is a “normal” relationship. Month 3 – find out and labor over all the things that drive me crazy until I manage to push them away (ideally I make them want to break up with me so I don’t have to do it). Month 3 can also involve the finding of a new person if there’s someone available and/or interested. It’s not that I was a bad person. It’s not that I didn’t want to find someone to be in a long term relationship with even. I just didn’t like being alone and there was always a solution to that, even if it didn’t last.

For a lot of reasons, all of them not good reasons, I never found a church in Chicago to attend on a regular basis. After you spend enough time not doing something you convince yourself that you’re okay not doing it. It becomes less and less of a priority because there are always excuses as to why it’s inconvenient or difficult. It’s the procrastinator’s way. When I met people who did attend church, I would feel guilty that I didn’t anymore. And then I would tell myself that I didn’t need that guilt anyway. I could rationalize that all the lessons and prayers and ceremony was just a way to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough in the first place. Why should I go hear about what a sinner I am and how I can never be good enough for God, let alone anyone else? I have enough self esteem issues without an omniscient being telling me I’m not trying hard enough. And that’s what it became for me, a chore to be avoided. I lost the joy.

Time passes, and after a while of not doing something, you also stop thinking about doing it. Until you stop thinking about it all together. Again, what this story is about is not contained in the years in between, so we’ll skip ahead a bit. I’ve been in Chicago for nine years now. In the past year I’ve been on a quest to recapture a bit of myself, and retain it for good. This was spurred on by the ending of another relationship of mine, this one my longest – three and a half years. To say that I was a different person a year ago from who I am now is true in many ways, and in the ways that it’s not, I am working on. Ultimately it’s been back to basics for me. I’ve been working on remembering who I am, and who I always wanted to be. A little regression is good from time to time I think. But naturally the toughest parts are avoided until they can’t be avoided anymore.

I won’t say it was fate, because that’s not giving credit where credit is due. God has a plan. To suggest otherwise or to infer that there’s a different force out there with a vested interest in what you’re doing is a bit egotistical, and blasphemous if you want to get technical about it. Also, you can’t talk to fate, and that’s not very comforting when you don’t understand why certain things are happening to you. Like when you wake up on a rather normal Saturday morning with only one thought burning in your head from the moment your eyes open: find Erin. Yeah, that’s how it started. Someone I hadn’t spoken to in at least seven years, and had no hint of an idea of where she was or what she was doing was suddenly the only thing I could focus on. Having had some experience with friends who are twins, I think the sensation I had was akin to one of a pair of twins getting hurt miles away from the other, and the other knowing about it without being told. Not that I thought Erin was hurt or anything urgent like that. I mean that would have been pretty poor planning on someone’s part if I was to be her emergency contact.

So I did the only thing I could think to do. I sat down at the computer, and attempted to search for someone on the internet with what little things I could remember from a decade old life. I don’t fancy myself a stalker, but this next part is a bit stalker-ish I guess. The thing is, she could be married with a different name, she could be in another country, she could be in witness protection, or she could be dead. I just didn’t know, and for about 45 minutes, the internet offered very few clues to help me out. I found some outdated websites that looked like she’d been mentioned there back in 2005, but that was no good to me. I searched high and low for anything, but the digital universe was set on keeping it’s secrets until the very end. Eventually I went back and searched the two places I had looked first – Myspace, and Facebook. I never held out much hope for either of these being a place she would be found, because they didn’t seem her style. What was I saying? Like I could intelligently comment on the preferences of someone I haven’t known for seven years? I tried looking again, this time a bit harder, and sure enough she was there. So, what now?

Really, let’s think this through shall we? You’ve just been possessed with the unyielding need to find someone you have no real connection to anymore, and you haven’t even had breakfast before you dive into scouring the storehouse of human existence for any traces of them. What do you do when you find them? What do you say and how do you say it? Do you even have anything to say? I mean where did this urge come from in the first place? You see the problem. You can’t just write or call someone you don’t know and shout “I woke up this morning and you were the first thing on my mind. What the hell is going on!?” There are steps one must take in the process so as not to inspire the person you’ve found to look into acquiring a restraining order. I labored over what to do for two days, because I knew that I’d do the wrong thing if I just did it right that minute. I manage to fail pretty grandly after two days anyway. I compose and send a message that’s as stumbling as it is strange, and I feel confident when I send it that I will never hear back unless it’s from the police. I deserve to be locked up at this point anyway I guess.

Three days pass in silence. I have no idea if she’s read what I’ve written, if the police are on their way, or if she saw it was me and decided to ignore it entirely. And then I get my answer. She writes to tell me about where she’s been, and what’s she’s been doing, and to say that it was good to hear from me. Erin has followed her calling from day one, and it would appear she has never waivered from that. She’s majored in religious studies, and become a missionary, spending three years in Malawi, and traveling all over the world with a company that specializes in mission work. At the end of the year she is going to grad school to study bible translation for the next three years, then she’ll redeploy to places without the bible in their native language. She doesn’t ask me any questions about my faith. She doesn’t tell me about what God is doing in her life like she’s witnessing to me. But I can’t help at the end of this note feeling like I’ve been given a glimpse down the fork in the path I didn’t take. And in turning back to look, I see where I’ve been, and where I could be.

That night I pray fervently for the first time in I can’t remember how long. Then I wait two days. I write her back to let her know what’s been going on with me. I tell her about my career and the things I’m proudest of. I tell her also that I feel like she’s someone I should never have lost touch with, and if she’s willing, we should be friends. I start then, and it’s not as hard as you might think, to rediscover my faith. I start reading my bible, which is laden with passages circled and notated by Erin when we were together. I start praying. I even have a reason for praying. I’ve decided to pray for forty days on one thing. Forty is a good biblical number. I have one question that I desperately need answered. I think it’s why I had to find Erin in the first place. I need to know what my calling is. I need to know what God’s plan for me is, or at least what He would have me do next. So every night now I pray for that. I pray for a lot of things, and a lot of people. Just the thought of Erin reminds me now that God has a plan for all of us, and that he’s just waiting for us to step up. I remember feeling this way when Erin and I were in her car leaving the church parking lot after that first Sunday we went together. It’s exhilarating, and terrifying, and wonderful. It’s the joy I’ve been missing without realizing it. Erin’s brought me around to it for the second time in my life. And I’m grateful.

“You always said I’d be happy in Paris. You couldn’t have meant without you.”

It’s been a few weeks now since those first few days of trepidation and excitement. I’ve had some time to calm down and consider things fully. I’ve talked to a few good friends of mine about all this, telling them the story you’ve been reading here. One question I’ve had for each of them is this: “Do you know someone, or have you ever known someone who if they asked you to spend forever with them, but you had to leave everything you had behind to do it, you would?” The more people I ask the thinner the odds get, but most people say “yes” right away. The first friend I asked actually said “Don’t tell my boyfriend, but I know exactly who that is for me. I haven’t seen him in about six months.” The thing I’m contemplating, and have been rather extensively since this hit me, is if Erin is that person for me. We’ve been talking on and off since then. We’ll see each other for the first time at Thanksgiving when we’ll both be home visiting family. I don’t know what she must think of me yet, but I know now what I have always thought of her. She’s someone who can remind you of all the best possibility you have inside you, and she’s willing to stand by you while you try to bring it out. She’s still the best partner I can imagine someone having. Even if that someone isn’t me. Just the thought of her brought me back my faith in a matter of days. Someone like that you should hold on to, in whatever capacity, for the rest of your life. I still have a lot to sort out, and I have an answer to get from God before anything else. But I’m thinking that … if she’ll have me again… would I go?

- I stumble through the wood alone and wonder, how did I get here, and where am I going? And then a path joins mine and I see a clearing ahead. I stop to ask the question whose path is this, and where will we go together when we reach the open air? A voice in leafy tones says, “The time for questions is passed. Now you must walk. But don’t be afraid. I am walking with you.” -

The End

How to Vote (in the future)

Alright, I realize this will be two politically motivated posts in a row, but I can't help myself. Recently I've grown incredibly weary of the truly uniformed people who are voting their overweight gut rather than their mind. Though my gut has served me well over the years, I've also noticed that a little research goes a long way when it comes to something that matters, like, oh say choosing the leader of our country, or deciding what peanut butter to buy. So I'm proposing that on all future voting ballots, for all positions with the responsibility level of mayor or higher (some Alderpersons will hate me for that, and they're right, but you gotta start somewhere), there be a short answer essay question that asks simply "Why are you voting for this candidate?" The answers to these questions can be as simple or as complicated as you want, but they cannot be based on race, sex, political party, celebrity endorsement, hairstyle, age, or, dare I say it, oratory skills. Answers must be based on things like policy, issues, political record... gosh, I don't know, stuff that matters.

I'm including here, and will update this as I think of things, a list of examples of acceptable and unacceptable answers. Enjoy. Join the movement towards intelligent choice. www.dividedwefail.org


Question: Why did you vote for this candidate?

Examples of Acceptable Essay Responses:

I agree strongly with this candidate's (energy, health care, tax, social security, foreign, environmental, financial, educational, etc.) policy/policies.

This candidate's stance on (abortion, prayer in school, creationism, the death penalty, homosexual marriage, the constitution, global warming, stem cell research, etc.) mirrors closely my views on this subject.


Examples of Unacceptable Essay Responses which will void your vote:

This candidate is a (man, woman, trans-gendered person, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Mormon, Democrat, Republican, Independent, Veteran, Hippie, Tree Hugger, Insider, Outsider, Good Talker, 8 time Olympic Gold Medalist, etc.)

I am a (man, woman, trans-gendered person, Christian, Jew, Muslim, Mormon, Democrat, Republican, Independent, Veteran, Hippie, Tree Hugger, Insider, Outsider, Good Talker, 8 time Olympic Gold Medalist, etc.)

This candidate is (heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, asexual, white, black, Asian, Hispanic, ugly, good looking, married, single, rich, poor, middle class, young, old, endorsed by Oprah, etc.)

I am (heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, asexual, white, black, Asian, Hispanic, ugly, good looking, married, single, rich, poor, middle class, young, old, endorsed by Oprah, etc.)



If you think of some things you'd like to be included on the list of vote voiding essay responses, just let me know.

Smart the Vote,
B

Testify

So I watched most of the DNC last week and felt a certain way. Then I watched most of the RNC this week and felt a different certain way. And though I'm not prone to talking about politics unless prompted or forced, I feel the need to articulate some things regarding all of this.

I know the stories of the candidates, and I know the stories of their running mates and families. At the end of the day what appeals to me, and has always appealed to me is a mixture of these two parties that seem bent on beating each other down. Dems seem weak in the eyes of Reps, and Reps seem uncaring in the eyes of Dems. On any given day I could be persuaded by the basic philosophy of either party, if not how that works out in practice, primarily because no one is advocating the wholesale slaughter of babies. Or the rape of Grandmothers. Or the cannibalization of anyone. There are principles we can all get behind, and some of them make darn good sense.

But we are humans in the end, and humans want to belong to a group. Before we could form words, or write language we understood that the more like-minded people you could surround yourself with, the better chance you stood of surviving. We wandered as nomads, but in that wandering we formed tribes. Eventually those tribes settled down in nice places and formed lands, and then cities. Then when we had reproduced enough, and needed more, we sought what other folks had, mostly through trade and violence. Eventually when we had taken all we could take from others we took more from the earth. We expand outward always, searching in our group for what we as a group want. And when our desires are threatened we lash out. When another group threatens us, we seek to stomp on them. In our hearts we are afraid. And this is what I saw the past two weeks.

I saw a group that has lost it's way. Struggling in the wilderness to hold on to better times and better ideals, but flailing in the changing climate of a world that doesn't work the way it used to. I saw a group that is trying hard to embrace the new world, and the new desires of it's people, yet wrought with internal strife because the tribal elders can't let go of their divisive roots. I saw a people desperate for new options and new opinions. For a tomorrow that is vastly different from all our yesterdays. I saw a people reciting the same beliefs and mantras of their forefathers because they have grown comfortable in their ideas, and cannot see beyond the conflicts of the past. Most of all I saw a nation divided by it's reaction to fear.

Some will hide behind what they have always known in an attempt to let something familiar shield them. Others will step into the face of what they are most terrified by because they understand that it is their fear to face, and no one can face it for them. Still others look for a leader to tell them how to behave. Someone to stand amongst the people, and show them by example that if we are all together, then what we are afraid of can be overcome. This last reaction is what these elections and this process has been about.

There are two leaders facing off against each other. One says we can cast out the old ways, and destroy the old city walls, and build something new and remake our tribe and lands into what we have been wanting. One says we can build a greater city upon the foundations we have and put up more stone and armaments to protect what we are most afraid of losing.

The problem I have is that it's hard to find water wandering in the desert, and it's hard to see the horizon when you've built such high city walls. You can lay yourself bare, or you can guard with everything you've got, but in the end you're going to be missing something critical. We should be all things for all people. We should be secure but not closed off. We should have roots but allow for growth and change. My sincere wish is for unity. We are a tribe of people who stands up and says, we don't want to take from you, just give. We don't want to fight, we want peace. We don't want you to wander, come build a land with us. You will be respected, and you will have all the opportunities that this land can offer you. We are the human tribe. The human experiment. We believe that all is possible. And we have the potential for so much when we can act with one voice.

There will be change, either way. There will be hope, either way. There will be the possibility of so much more to come. And if all that comes from this exorcise in democracy is that we leave one footprint behind us, and begin making different one in front of us, at least we are moving toward tomorrow. There's a land we've yet to reach in front of us. One we can only reach by taking steps together.

Conversation/Quote of the Week

Here's a new segment for the blog: "Conversation/Quote of the week." This is a snippet of a conversation between me and my friend Shannon. You don't need to know the details to enjoy the insanity.

Brad

This is all up in the air right now. The only thing that's certain is there's a girl.

And that's confusing enough.

Shannon

haha. ok i getcha

just go down there and say, "i love you and i can't live without you! now make this work for us because i'm not leaving!" if that doesn't work, at least it might scare her enough to try... :)

Brad

wow, that's pretty terrifying.

Shannon

hahaha

i could write soap operas

Brad

It might scare her enough to get a restraining order too.

Shannon

haha. or it would just be really romantic

Brad

Yeah, but it's walking a fine line between romantic, and threatening. :)

Shamus

IN MEMORIAM
Shamus
2003-2008
"The best fish ever."
R.I.P.

Why am I up at 2am?

Originally Posted on February 6, 2008


Testing, testing... can anybody hear me? Well here we are, burning the 2am oil in the hopes of some brilliant revelations that only strike us when the snow has turned to ice and there's about a foot of at your back door. I will have to be at work in about 8 hours though, so let's not mince words too much.

Updates:
The Giants defeated the Patriots in what I'm sure has to be the best game experience I've had in a long time. I think I can honestly say I feel better about this win then I did when the Colts won last year, because everyone I knew, save one person, was hoping and praying for a Patriots loss. There was a great sense of unity, that doesn't come that often. And for a few days it seemed as though everything was going to be right with the world from now on.
Alas, things don't stay that way, but things don't really get that bad either. I'm in a house I love, with a roommate who is better for me than most girlfriends I have had. I feel more like myself now then I have in a good long time, and it feels comforting. I feel like I'm really at a good turning point in my life that has been a while in coming. To this end I have some things to say that may not make much sense to everyone who reads this, but may make sense to the people they are directed toward.
I've always been fascinated with the AA twelve step program because it seems like a good model for changing your life regardless of whether you are an alcoholic or not. One step in particular stands out to me, which is the one where you ask forgiveness for past wrongs from the people you have wronged. I guess these are the things that keep me up at 2am when I should be sleeping, so let's put them out there.
To Ana Kay - I'm sorry I never called or wrote you after I didn't come visit. We haven't spoken since then, and it bugs me a lot whenever I think about it because I wonder where you are and what you're doing and if you're happy. I lost a friend because I was afraid you would be mad at me. For that I'm sorry.
To Casey - I'm sorry I left before you could have a conversation with me about what I wrote. I always felt that was the tipping point for us, and that we could have become good friends if I had stayed. I was shy, and it was hard for me to accept that you might actually be interested in what I had to say. I also had a pretty big crush on you at the time, and the run away and don't talk scenario seemed easiest.
To Erin - You always deserved someone better, and I hope you found that person. I am sorry I was never the man you needed me to be. I just pretended to be that person because it was what you wanted.
To Eric - I didn't know what to say when our friendship ended. And I never knew what to say when I saw you after that. You were a great friend, and I'm sorry neither of us was able to maintain that.
To Elisa - I don't know what you must think of me, but I know you were upset by things that I said and wrote. I'm sorry that those things hurt your feelings, or made you mad. They were intended as my own ramblings, and foolish though they may have been, they weren't meant to hurt anyone. I'm sorry to you, and anyone else who may have read them and been upset.
To Gillian - I've said it before, but what I did never leaves my heart. I'm sorry.
To Tiffany - I treated you so poorly that I don't think I can ever really apologize for it enough. I hope that wherever you are you are happy, and have regained some of the confidence to reach your full potential.

Okay, so I'm starting to sound like I've screwed over a lot of women. Which I guess I have. I've really only ever been friends with women, so there the ones I've got to screw over. I'm gonna stop now, and maybe pick this exercise up at a later date. I should think on this some more and really get clear about what I want to say to the rest of these folks.

Didn't mean for this to be such a downer everybody.
Here's a riddle to end with, 10 points if you can tell me A. what the answer is B. where it's from: "If the Planet were equitable, I'd still have my old job."

Remember, Remember...

Originally Posted on January 30, 2008

Cheaters Never Prosper… unless they cheat at Football.

With the cold whipping through the Midwest more harshly than it has all year here in Chicago, I can't help thinking that it's a proverbial slap in the face by mother nature, trying to rouse us from our apathetic acceptance of our collective defeats. The three teams closest, geographically, to my heart, the 2006 NFL champion Indianapolis Colts, the 1985 NFL champion Chicago Bears, and the 1997 NFL champion Green Bay Packers, have all fallen this year to the black plague of the league. And in light of the coming game this Sunday, I thought it would a good thing if we heeded mother nature's rattling call, and looked at some facts that may help stir some of us who don't know out of our defeatist attitude, and make those of us who have forgotten remember what makes this game great, and what makes it terrible.

On Sunday September 9^th, 2007 the New England Patriots under coach Bill Belichick, faced the New York Jets under coach Eric Mangini at Giants Stadium. The game was a solid defeat by the Patriots at 38 to 14, and their first of the regular season. At this game NFL security officials confiscated a camera and videotape from Patriots video assistant Matt Estrella on the New England sidelines when it was suspected he was recording the Jets' defensive signals. The visual evidence confirmed the suspicion.

Several days later NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell fined Bill Belichick $500,000 -- the biggest fine ever for an NFL coach -- and the team $250,000 after determining New England violated league rules by videotaping defensive signals from Jets coaches. The Patriots also will have to forfeit either a first-round draft choice or second- and third-round picks.

Jets coach Eric Mangini, the youngest coach in Jets history, is reported to be the one who helped tip off NFL Security to the video taping. This makes sense since he has been working closely with Bill Belichick since he started with the NFL. Both graduated from Wesleyan University and the two were brothers in the Chi Psi Fraternity. Mangini began his career as a ball boy with Cleveland at the age of 23, and later became an intern in the Brown's public relations department. He worked 18 hours a day in the PR department, and at night he made copies of stats in the copy room. Bill Belichick, at the time the Head Coach of the Cleveland Browns, found him there, and liked him so much that he asked the general manager if they had another job for him. Mangini was given the smallest coaching job in the Browns, putting film together for the coordinators. He moved where Belichick moved, and prior to coaching the New York Jets, Mangini worked for the New England Patriots under Head Coach Belichick, first as their defensive backs coach (2000-2004), and later as their defensive coordinator (2005).

Mangini came to that game on September 9^th armed with keen knowledge of the Patriots surveillance methods -- and finally decided to act.

These are the facts. The Patriots were cheating at this game, and they were caught. They were fined, and that was the end of it. No one seems to talk about it anymore. Everyone is awed by their seemingly unstoppable march to an undefeated season. However, let's take these facts, and extrapolate for the sake of argument. The New England Patriots have only won 3 Superbowls in their history, and they've only been to 5. It's worth noting that the 2 Superbowls they lost were the '85 season to the Chicago Bears, and the '97 season to the Green Bay Packers. The 3 they won were in 2001, '03, and '04, all while Bill Belichick was the Head Coach, and Eric Mangini was working as the Defensive Backs Coach. It doesn't take a huge leap to imagine that if Mangini knew that Belichick was violating league rules, he gained that knowledge while working with Belichick in the seasons when the Patriots were winning Superbowls.

Now it's easy in this day and age of player misconduct and personal fines to constantly want to find one person to focus blame on. More often then not there are trainers and coaches, and even loved ones who are aware of a players steroid or drug use, or animal abuse even. However, in this case it is even more widespread. We are speaking of the executive decision by a Head Coach, but also the acknowledgement and compliance with that decision by all assistant coaches, and certainly key players on the team. In effect, we are speaking of a rot that spread through an entire organization. A rot that has gone fairly unchecked, and unpunished for most of this season, and has certainly been growing for years now.

Who should we punish? How should they be punished? The crime committed is not one of murder, or terrorism. The crime was the violation of a league rule. What does it really matter? It only gives them the advantage offensively over every team they face since they have had the opportunity to map their opponents call signals over the course of several years and tailor their game strategy to that. An advantage that no other team has, and that there are rules specifically in place to prevent. How do you punish someone appropriately for corrupting a sport so successfully? How do you reconcile the praise that should be due a team with an undefeated season, and the shame that they have brought to a sport you love, and live and die with?

There will always be a taint on this season, no matter the outcome of Sunday's game. And because of that, we can reasonably cast doubt backwards for almost a decade in the history of this team, and in the records of every team they have faced.

Someone recently said to me "how can you not want the Patriots to win the Superbowl? It would be so humiliating for them to come so far undefeated and then to loose in Superbowl." It would be. And maybe that's the best punishment all the Colts fans, and Bears fans, and Packers fans, and Eagles fans, and Panthers fans, and Rams fans, and fans of the sport, and the love of the game, can hope for.

Go Giants.

-Brad Norris

(Born in Indy. Lives in Chicago.)

January 30, 2007

Brad Norris is not that impressive

Originally Posted on May 8, 2007


My cousin Ed came up with these, and they are pretty damn funny. He posted them as a comment on my last blog, but not many people go back and read others comments on other people's blogs, and these I felt were good enough that all my loyal readers should see them. Enjoy


Top Facts for Brad Norris (ok… I wanted to parody the whole Chuck Norris thing…. But that's dead now…. So here is what I came up with anyway…)


Some kids piss their name in the snow. Brad Norris can piss. But only at dusk.

Brad Norris can speak bacchi.

Leading hand sanitizers claim they can kill 99.9 percent of germs. Brad Norris can kill 100 percent of whatever cheese is in the fridge.

Brad Norris' calendar goes straight from Feb 2nd to Feb 2nd.

Brad Norris counted to two. (see above)

Brad Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never bothered to give a sample to science. The Bastard

Once, while having sex in a trailer, part of Brad Norris' sperm escaped and got into the engine. We now know this vehicle as a pile of junk.

Brad Norris once visited the Virgin Islands. They are still The Virgin Islands.

If you spell Brad Norris wrong on Google it doesn't say, "Did you mean Brad Norris?" It simply replies, "Why do you want him?."

Brad Norris was originally cast as the main character in 24, but was replaced by the producers when he managed to crap in his own pants in 12 minutes and 37 seconds.

Brad Norris puts the "fun" in "dysfunctional".

Brad Norris owns the worst Poker Face of all-time. It helped him loose $50 in a cash game.

Brad Norris died ten years ago, but the Grim Reaper can't be bothered with details.

Brad Norris does not sleep. He eats. Or drinks

Brad Norris owns a pair of Superman pajamas.

Brad Norris does not hunt because the word hunting implies the possibility of work. Brad Norris goes to bed.

Brad Norris doesn't pop his collar. His shirts just get stiff when they smell his body.

Brad Norris can slam The Doors. He hates that Movie.

Brad Norris sleeps with a night light. He is a wuss.

Brad Norris was once on Celebrity Wheel of Fortune and was the first to spin. The next 29 minutes of the show consisted of everyone guessing letters and Brad shouting "I LIKE CHICKEN!"

Brad Norris doesn't read books. He's not allowed in the Library after the "Dewey Decimal Incident.".

Once a cobra bit Brad Norris' leg. After five days of excruciating pain, Brad finally completed "Pitfall" from Activision.

When Brad Norris gives you the finger, he's telling you he loves you..

When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night he checks his closet for Brad Norris. Brad is one scary dude. NOT!

Brad Norris is not hung like a horse... PERIOD.

Giraffes were created when Brad Norris farted. So they could escape the toxic fumes

Brad Norris doesn't have hair on his testicles, because he likes the smooth feeling.

Bill Gates could care less about Brad Norris.

Brad Norris' dog is trained to pick up his own poop because Brad Norris will forget.

Brad Norris sold his soul to the devil for rugged good looks and unparalleled martial arts ability. Shortly after the transaction was finalized, Brad tried to roundhouse kick the devil in the face and take his soul back. The devil, who appreciates comedy, admitted he saw it coming. The Devil now owns Brad's balls too.

Brad Norris plays russian roulette with a fully loded bottle of vodka... and loses.

Brad Norris thinks he's 1/8th Cherokee. Nope. Try Cleveland Indian.

Pirate Queen Review

Originally Posted on October 30, 2006

This is my review of the new Broadway musical "The Pirate Queen" currently in out of town tryouts in Chicago before it heads to New York this winter. Enjoy.


The Pirate Queen Lacks in Every Way That Matters (to me).


Act One: Get your hero up a tree
Act Two: Throw rocks at him
Act Three: Get him back down again

-George Abbot (on playwriting)

This simple rule for creating a compelling story is the basis for Theatre and Film successes of every kind for thousands of years. Hell even the Bible follows it. Yet somehow, despite former success by the creators that followed this pattern like Miss Siagon and Les Mis, The Pirate Queen seems to forget what makes Theatre interesting: CONFLICT. Without giving away too much, though there is a synopsis of the show inserted in the program, the show is loosely based on the true life story of Grania ..Grace.. O..Malley, who becomes the commander of the rebel naval forces in the west of Ireland fighting for their independence against the British Empire and Queen Elizabeth. If anyone ever decides to turn my life story into a musical, I hope they don..t rush through the interesting parts as quickly as the Pirate Queen does, and beat the dead horse that is the love scenes.

Let..s say something positive before I get much further, because it..s important to note that the Director and the Writers have assembled a phenomenal cast for this somewhat mediocre show. Stephanie J. Block (most recently Elphiba in the first National Tour of Wicked) is a beautiful choice for the role of Grania, with a wonderful vocal range, and emotional backing. Hadley Frasier as her childhood friend and true love, Tiernan, has some of the better songs and moments in the show, though the relationship between Grania and Tiernan never quite rises to the level of fierce barbarian love that you hope it will. Jeff McCarthy does a wonderful job as Grania..s father, and the Clan Chieftan Debhdara, and likewise Linda Balgord is more than passable as Queen Elizabeth (especially given the costumes she..s put into). There are moments though when all you want from this show are to hear Aine Ui Cheallaigh as Evleen sing some more. She has a beautiful voice, and captures the Irish essence in her somber and joyful ballads (in Gaelic of course).

Though this quality ensemble sings, dances (extraordinarily) and fights (not too well with the fighting though), they cannot overcome the simple fact that there are no songs notable or original enough to draw you in, and no emotional struggle big enough to capture your attention and make you love this show. The Action seems rushed in both time it takes to complete it and in how well it..s been rehearsed, and at times there is just no action at all in the middle of a song. People literally stop singing or doing anything while music just plays.. and plays.. and blackout. All of this might be overcome were the audience given something to rally against, like an evil Lord Bingham, played by William Youmans, or an alcoholic/adulterous husband which Grania is forced to marry, played by Marcus Chait, but these characters aren..t given time or deeds enough to rise to the level of villain that this story needs, even when they combine forces and plot against Grania.

The technical production is beautiful, with some of the best use of projection and moving lights I..ve seen. However, the set dressing which makes the stage look like a ship, sometimes only serves to remind you how much of this story about a pirate takes place on land. Overall, the story is a good one, it..s just told poorly, without the songs, or the words to really convey why you as an audience member should care about The Pirate Queen.

Review by: Brad Norris

Forewarning

I'm leaving the mad advertising ploy, and scantily clad hip hop infestation that has become "myspace." Primarily because I don't care for it any longer, and the only reason I check back in every few days is to see if someone has died (as if myspace would know that). Also, after a not-so-happy blogging incident, I'm not-so-happy with who sees the things I write on myspace. But I still have a desire to delve into my innermost thoughts in a somewhat (read: very) public format.

Viola! Blogger. I'm going to link this to my facebook page as well, cause I'm tired of everybody having a webpage that they call their own but me. So this is mine! MINE!!!! KAAAAAAHHHHHNNNNN!!!!!!!

Okay, I'm good now.

Anyway, I'm gonna transfer some past blogginess from the myspace to here, so as to have a collective history of my mind compiled online. I know you care so much.

Enjoy.