a cure in plain sight

A few years ago, an argument with a relative yielded some accusations and comments thrown my way that were not at all surprising. Even as I silently told myself (while outwardly crying inconsolably) that her opinion did not matter, they hit me harder than I'd like to admit.

Among her most vicious accusations were those involving a lack of love for my husband and children and blaming me and my "moods" on a lack of appreciation. "It's about appreciation," was a phrase she uttered frequently during this verbal altercation.

A couple years passed and despite the joy of having had another child, those so-called moods have abated very little if at all. While taking inventory of my depression, I came to realize that while this relative's chosen words were of a rather vile nature, the sentiment expressed mirrors that of even the most well-meaning of my actual loved ones who I know are genuinely concerned about my mental, emotional and physical well-being.

Most of the time, while I often seem moody, irritable, unhappy or any of the other terms that have been used to describe me, I hide the worst of my downs. Many times I postpone them. I find the strength to wait for a moment of peace or the chance to get away from the chaos of my life and find a private place and time to break down. Being a stay at home mother with a toddler as my only other companion during most mornings, those mornings often are my times reserved for crying. After I drop my older kids off at school and I hear my mother and husband leave for work, I let it out. This happens more often than the other occupants of the house realize.

There are, however, moments when I cannot save my tears or I cannot escape the regular inquiries of, "Are you okay?" or "What's wrong?" When the strength escapes me and I know I cannot shrug the question off with a lame excuse, I do what I'm told I often should do and talk about how I'm feeling. While the responses are given with love and concern and, truthfully, at least a little bit of irritation, the words used miss the mark and are evident of people who do not truly understand what I'm going through, what I've been going through for many years, now, as much as I know they want to. I'm told that things will get better, that life could be worse, that I need to do things that make me happy.

Such comments come back to the notion of appreciation as though there was a very simple, very obvious solution to my depression hiding in plain sight.

They don't understand that, mentally, I know things will get better, even if by a few seemingly inconsequential degrees. I know life could be worse. I have many things that a lot of people don't have. I have people who love me. I made myself an amazing little family. I have incredible friends who often insist that I call them whenever I'm upset and show surprise to find out how hard life has been for me. There are a great many things I have to be grateful for. And I am. I truly, truly am appreciative of the things I have. The list is endless.

It's just not enough. Not when something is physically wrong with the chemicals in my body that create these moods that my closest loved ones cannot understand. Not when I find myself unable to enjoy all the things I used to for reasons I cannot explain. Not when I look into my future and see only darkness and hopelessness and no solution to whatever it is my body is going through.

Such is the nature of depression. It's a mood. It's treated as a choice. If all the memes on social media that talk about choice and positivity and hope are evident of anything it's that many people think our outlook in life always comes down to simply choosing a better one. If it were always that easy, wouldn't I have chosen that a long time ago? Does anyone truly believe I like the way I feel? Does anyone actually choose to live like this?

I've looked at lists of the signs of chronic depression, all of which come with a disclaimer that says that they are not able to diagnose anything and to seek medical attention if most of the symptoms ring true.

For me, all of the symptoms are true. I am tired all the time. I have pains I cannot explain. I have a difficult time concentrating. It takes great effort to get up, get ready, do any of the things I need to do just to function on a daily basis and make my life work. I often only eat when my body is screaming at me that it is starving or when others remind me. If I could, I'd spend all day on the couch. I used to be an avid reader, finishing off whole books in a day or two. I can't even remember the last time I read a book. Writing has always been my escape. Now, it takes effort to find the words I need. And if there's one thing I love so much more than anything, it's spending time with my little family. But whenever we do go out together, the smallest inconvenience sets me off and I start wishing we never left the house.

That has been the hardest part of dealing with my depression: Wondering how it affects my family. I make the effort to do things with them, whether inside or outside of the house. I find ways to enjoy free fun considering our financial situation. Often, I finish activities that they find exciting at first but get tired of when we've hit the half-hour mark. I certainly make the effort and I know they see it. The fact that we often run out of time to do all the things we want to do is a testament to how much I try to do with them. When I start to slip, my husband gently and enthusiastically encourages me to spend some time with them.

I often ask my husband how I'm doing on the outside while I desperately try to hide how badly I feel around my kids. I recently told him that I fear that if you were to ask my children if mommy was happy, they'd say that I wasn't. I asked him if I laugh enough. Now we're both more conscious of when I laugh. (And I'm pleased to report that I do, in fact, laugh often.)

I still understand that as I try to get better and look at the things I do to at least appear better, that I have a long way to go. I wish seeing a professional was as easy as all those websites and other advice makes it seem. But until mental health is taken seriously among those who decide how to give medical coverage to those of us with limited financial resources, who are arguably among the most vulnerable to mental health issues, there's not much I can do in that arena. I have to find a way to cope with what resources I do have. That is until I can once again start the years-long adventure of talking about my misadventures with a stranger that I will never be totally comfortable with; trying different prescriptions for several weeks at a time, praying that something will work; dealing with the sometimes worse mood swings that tend to accompany my own personal drug trials; and wondering if I'm better off without therapy and mood-stabilizers. Yes, I've been to this rodeo before. That's where the "chronic illness" comes in.

Appreciation, however, is not the simple cure to my chronic depression. Looking for the good and ignoring the bad does not make it go away. Hope can destroy me more than lift me especially after the innumerable times we got some good news only to have it taken away the moment we feel like we can breathe again. I cannot see the great things around the corner that other people insist are waiting for me.

I want to be better. Those who love me need me to be better. And I truly am hanging on as best as I can. I know a time will come when it won't be like this, I'll get there somehow. I just can't see it. That's the point. My mind will not visualize it even if it is aware that some kind of peace is out there. There has to be. There will be a purpose and direction. 

For now, as appreciative as I am, I am also sick. Physically sick. And no amount of gratitude and appreciation is going to make that go away on its own.

third time's a charm - part 2

As the days passed and my belly -- and discomfort -- continued to grow, I flash backed to my last pregnancy when we approached that 40 week mark and baby showed no signs of being ready to emerge.

What was different, however, were the high numbers on my blood pressure reading at every appointment.  My feet also swelled abnormally compared to my other two pregnancies, preventing me from walking too much, something I was none-to-pleased about as I couldn't get in any exercise, something I was religious with for the other pregnancies to help control my gestational diabetes. My totally in control, very soothing midwife didn't seem to be especially concerned over my HBP and my swollen feet as I was not dropping protein so I was not concerned, either.

My due date came with no productive contractions on the horizon and I was scheduled for an induction seven days later.  That week passed with much of the same:  Baby girl was not coming out on her own.

So I arrived at the hospital to be induced and was ordered to stay there so they could monitor my blood pressure.  As it continued to climb and my contractions got more regular, other signs of active labor were still not happening.  Finally, a nurse came in and said the doctor called it: After two natural deliveries, I was going to have my first emergency c-section.

My husband got scrubbed up and they prepped me to be taken to the OR when things started to shift.  I could actually feel my heart racing, my blood pressure continuing to climb and after years of being asthma-attack-free, I started to have a hard time breathing.  I'm assuming it was around this point that they decided my husband could not join me in the OR, after all.  As I yelled out that I couldn't breathe, I heard the nurses scrambling to find my chart to confirm whether I had asthma or not.  Between the epidural and other preparations, I was given an inhaler to help my breathing followed by an oxygen mask.

That was when I finally got scared.  I lay there, gasping for breath thinking, "This is it.  I finally have my girl, my children are so young and I'm going to die.  I'm going to leave my children motherless."

Obviously, I survived.

As I felt my body tug in different directions and was lucid enough to feel very exposed in a room full of OR staff, I waited for a cry, a scream, something.  And then there she was.  Screaming like a banshee, not happy at all to be removed from her cozy, warm apartment.  I asked if she was okay and they brought her to me for a quick kiss before they took her away.

My heart broke.  With the boys, I was able to hold them right away, introduce myself, cry over their little bodies, count their fingers and toes.  This time, I had to lay there while I was stapled back up wondering how my daughter was doing, wondering if my husband knew what was going on.

It wasn't that long before I was wheeled to the maternity ward.  Despite the pain I was in and how any movement had me heaving into those plastic, kidney-shaped pans, I was obviously eager to make my way to the nursery to see my baby girl.  My husband came in and told me he was able to see our daughter.  She was in the NICU.  While she was okay, she had to be monitored in an incubator with tubes hooked up to her.  I was sad for my baby who could not be comforted by the warmth of her parents' bodies or the sound of my heartbeat.  I was sad for my husband who had to see his daughter in that condition.  And I blamed myself for all of it.

Every time the nurse came to check on me, I asked when I would be able to get up and move so I could move my way to the nursery. Despite every muscle in my body telling me I was not ready, my heart had other plans. Luckily, it's advised to get moving as soon as physically possible to release some of the gas bubbles that accumulates in the body during surgery so I didn't have to wait too long. After a couple of hours, I was getting ready to see my baby.

I walked into the NICU and a nurse was feeding her. This was the first good look I got of her and she looked just like her big brothers. I asked if I could touch her and the nurse had a different idea: She told me I could hold her and feed her. So I did. And as I held her perfect little body, I silently apologized to her for having such a crazy mommy; for all the times she heard me cry and the pain I shared with her; I promised her I'd get better and do everything in my power to give her the most I could with what little I had, that I'd be a better mommy to her big brothers; and I thanked her for being a part of my life as I consider myself a person so undeserving of such incredible love.

I spent a couple of horrible days in the hospital so they could monitor my blood pressure but, at least, she was well enough to room in with me. While she seemed to cry almost nonstop and I was warned not to feed or hold her too much (Really? Can you really hold a newborn too much?) I had no intention of listening to such nonsense. I held her constantly. I held her as she fell asleep in my arms and refused to put her back down, allowing her to sleep on my chest as I drifted off to sleep, myself.

Finally, after more than three days in the hospital, I brought my baby girl home.

And we'll talk about that later. Until then, here's my princess getting ready to go home:

(to be continued)

third time's a charm

What a colossal cliche', huh?  Well, in this case, it very much applies.

In late 2012, we found out we were pregnant.  It wasn't the best time for it.  In fact, the timing couldn't get much worse.  And for a number of highly personal reasons, we really didn't think it was remotely possible for me to be pregnant.  But after I managed to wipe out an entire super-sized jar of pickles (the kind that one usually finds in a store or food concession stand or something similar), it was becoming rather obvious that, despite our insistence that we were absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt done having children, another was on its way.

Similar to my previous pregnancy, we didn't find out we were pregnant until I was almost half-way through the 9 months.  After a disastrous first appointment with a horrible doctor who, thankfully, had wonderful nurses who were most helpful in finding me another doctor and get my needed tests expedited, my husband and I headed to a private laboratory armed with an order for an ultrasound stamped "STAT".

We sat in the waiting room, anxious to get into the exam room and get that wand over my belly to make sure our baby was doing okay.  Naturally, that was our first priority.  But running a close second was finding out if our baby sported girl parts or boy parts.

If you don't already know, I had previously given birth to two boys from a man who already had a son.  Now you can see why we were very interested in baby's gender.

Finally, my name was called.  We met our tech who was a familiar stranger to me.  While we had never met before, his wife was one of my favorite customers at a bar I had worked at many years ago.  I let him know I knew his wife and congratulated him on the baby I knew they just had.  As we became acquainted and I climbed onto the table assuming the position, I told him immediately that we wanted to know the gender and explained why.

As the picture came on the screen, I saw a perfect little baby who was not like my other two babies before and I don't mean gender-wise.  When I had my ultrasound for my sons, neither was very shy.  As soon as the wand hit my belly, there it was.  My boys were spread-eagle, announcing to the world their gender.  Baby number three, however, was shy.

As the tech took us through the paces, showing us baby's heart and other organs, spine, head, limbs and a cute little face showing us tongue, I saw nothing of baby's private parts.  At one point our tech referred to baby as "she" though I didn't catch it.  I figured he was just mimicking us and our hopeful insistence that this baby was a girl.

That was the only mistake our tech made that day.  As the minutes dragged on, this tech knew exactly what he was doing, keeping us in suspense as long as possible.

And then he asked if we were ready.  I could have strangled him.

As he waved the wand over the part where he knew baby's little parts were (because he already knew where they were having seen them and quickly passing over them so that we couldn't, purposely keeping the gender a surprise for as long as possible) he asked, "What do you think?"

A huge smile erupted on my face as it was more than obvious.  "That's a girl," I said, moments before I turned away and cried profusely.

And it was.  Finally, we were having our girl.

(to be continued)

another bad year

Wow.  It's been nearly two years since my last post.  I could say that in neglecting one forum I use as a writer, I've spent more time on my private writing, whether they be musings or works that I hope will one day reach a wider audience.  I could say that but it would be a lie.  The truth is that I haven't done much of anything in all that time except fall apart (again) and begin to heal (again).  Well, there was one huge thing that happened but we'll get to that later.

2012 was nothing short of a disaster.  After the strides I had made in my mental and emotional health over the preceding few years, I found myself even further back than when I had started.  Some things were done to me.  More things I had done, whether it be to myself or to others.  I hurt people I loved.  I lost people I loved.  I neglected people I loved.  And I nearly lost it all.

All in all, it was quite possibly the worst year of my life.  I'm ashamed to admit that.  I'm ashamed to admit that another year I was given to spend with my greatest treasures - my sons - could be bad, let alone the worst.  I'm ashamed of the knowledge that I've had a few rock bottom moments when I was younger, experiencing tragedy on a deep level, hurting in ways that many people in my circles have not hurt, and still I've found that what I went through in 2012 was worse.  I'm ashamed to have lost so much to my severe depression.  I'm ashamed of the fact that I nearly willingly gave all of it up.  Think what you will of that last statement.  What you imagine is probably true.

I'm most ashamed of how 2012 ended, in a severe breakdown that took me days to recover from and a relapse a few months later.  The breakdown itself was not the tragedy, nor was the relapse.  Similar to my shame in being severely depressed when I had three very tangible reasons to be happy, what made the breakdown worse was the one circumstance that should have made me happy.

Yet another unexpected miracle made its presence known around that time.

Among the tears, the freak outs, the breakdowns and the tantrums was nausea, weight gain and the tell-tale flutter in my belly.

We were pregnant.  (That would be the one hugely significant event of the last couple years.)

As it were, we later found out that we weren't just pregnant, we were expecting our first daughter.  Before she was, hope was born.

I wish I could say that that was the moment I began to heal, but it wasn't.  As my little girl grew inside me, so did my grief, my frustration, my resentment and a bevy of loss that I could not get over.  And my hope began to die.

Until I finally decided that enough was enough.  My sons needed me.  My daughter needed me.  I needed them more.  I needed them desperately.

And so here I am, healing, hoping, trying to take control (again).  2013 was the year of hope and mental health.  Also, getting caught up in having a baby (again).

But since I'm already wordy by nature and these things seem to take longer than they should, I'll end this shortly and expand in other posts.  (I'm DYING to write about my new princess)

I hope to be doing this more.  In mentally returning to my latest but most true passion, my children, I have decided to also return to my longest-running and first-intended passion:  Writing.

I don't do resolutions.  I end the year with lessons learned (something else I'll have to get back to, later, or chuck entirely) and I begin the next year with mantras.

My mantra this year?  Simply:  Love.

So that is how we will begin.  With love.  My love for my children.  My love for my husband.  My love for my family in heart.  And my love of writing.

See you very soon.

"Use your mentality, wake up to reality." -CP

changing religious ritual to serve a personal purpose

Organized religion is generally a practice of spirituality with doctrine and ritual within a common belief system. Such doctrine and ritual serve a purpose, usually as a means of contemplation to understand the core of the religion and to answer questions about the path to that faith and a means of bringing its constituents together. Without doctrine and ritual, there is little reason for the followers of any religion to treat their faith system as a family or any like-minded group. Without doctrine or ritual, there simply is no religion. It is nothing more than general faith or spirituality that does not connect to a specific purpose, goal or family of followers.

There is nothing wrong with that, of course. Spirituality as a general belief in something -- anything -- beyond our mortal world that inspires a sense of morality is a good thing. But that's all it is. Spirituality. It is not religion. Thus, if you do not prescribe to the set of doctrine or ritual attached to a specific religion, you are not behaving in the manner dictated by that religion and, perhaps, under the notion of refusal, should not consider yourself a part of that religion.

This does not mean that we should not question. That's the most important part of contemplation of faith and vital to spiritual growth. Hence the purpose of doctrine in the first place. Doctrine exists to answer questions we ask about our faith. However difficult the answer is to understand, it exists somewhere, even as a guide or hint, often as a prayer or parable.

Religion as an organic entity also changes as the world and culture inevitably changes. Doctrine and ritual change as the needs of the people change. Intercourse for the single purpose of procreation, polygamy, young marriages and the use of concubines existed in a time of high mortality rates when religion needed followers and society needed a population to function. Many of these practices have been altered as the world has become increasingly over-populated.

There are, however, many religious practices that do not need to change as they continue to foster beliefs and practices that remain core to its religion. Many Christian faiths, such as Catholicism, hold the death of Christ as a sacrifice to his people to be a notion as important as the life Jesus led. Easter and the preceding Lenten season, as recognized by Christians, is one of two extremely significant events to the faith and exists to teach what Christians believe is one of the foundations of the faith: Sacrifice. From the first day to the very last, the Christian is tasked to think often about what it is like to sacrifice as he was taught to do by the Messiah's ultimate sacrifice with his life.

Without doctrine and religious text to back this up, the requirement of fasting during Lent is a rather simple notion to understand in light of what Easter is supposed to mean to those who recognize its religious significance. Asking a person to sacrifice a small extravagance is a pittance to what God asked of his only begotten son when Jesus sacrificed his life as a means of showing redemption and the immortality of the soul.

Yet as the season approaches, there is always a voice of dissension, not only from those critical of Christianity or religion as a whole, but even by those who consider themselves faithful. They may believe that a small sacrifice teaches them nothing or that they do not need to sacrifice, themselves, in order to understand the most important sacrifice made to the Christian faith. This is where faith-based contemplation comes in. These are things the individual must reconcile, themselves, often with the aid of those meant to usher the practitioner's faith. An outright rejection of the practice, however, does nothing to foster contemplation or appreciation of religious doctrine. Questions are good. Rejection, perhaps, is not as beneficial if one's goal is to understand or actually practice the faith.

More, many simply do not see the connection at all. There is a population within the church of those who call themselves Catholic, who've been Catholic all their lives, who have had access to the doctrine of the church all of their lives who have either never heard or found the answers to their query of the practice of fasting or have not been receptive to teachings that have answered such questions. Yet the answer has always been there. This becomes the duty as a vital means of examination: Find answers.

Then there is a population of those who do not see the connection who claim that no answer exists despite never having looked for the answers. As it has been said repeatedly in this article, the answer does exist. In Matthew 9:15, the bible says, "And Jesus said unto them, Can the children of the bridechamber mourn, as long as the bridegroom is with them? but the days will come, when the bridegroom shall be taken from them, and then shall they fast." There it is: A direct call by Jesus, himself, via the Bible in which followers are taught to believe was inspired by God, for his followers to fast when Jesus, the bridegroom, is taken away by his death memorialized by Easter.

And beyond both the confusion and outright refusal over the practice of fasting for Lent there is a significant population of both followers and those who object who have their own means of recognizing Lent. While this is the prerogative of people to do and it may seem harmless to foster positive action to replace ritual one does not understand, it does not promote the examination of Christianity or Catholicism by its followers. All it does is replace a notion that is clearly defined by purpose and recognition with one that is not connected to the religion, movement or observation in any way. These changes are very often positive. But such positive constructs don't need to replace a system that already exists with intent and purpose. Positive action does not need to replace. It can add. It can propel the driving force behind ritual and doctrine. It can become part of a new way of thinking that does not take away from the very core of the practice. Fast to appreciate Christ's sacrifice but also do something nice to appreciate the world around you. Fast to appreciate Christ's sacrifice but also sacrifice your time or resources to benefit your neighbor. Don't add to the confusion of the purpose of fasting for Lent by refusing to recognize that there is one. Don't question the desire of the faithful to continue to fast as a means of observing Lent.

If you do not wish to behave as a Christian, do not consider yourself Christian. If you do not understand why your Christian faith asks you to do certain things, look for answers, either through doctrine or the assistance of religious leaders whose very vocation is to assist you in finding answers. If you feel no compulsion to practice ritual that doctrine dictates even after the purpose is explained to you, do not participate. If you feel that you have personal goals beyond what ritual dictates, achieve those goals through means that do not involve changing doctrine to serve what you believe to be a better purpose. Keep in mind, always, what happened when Christianity, itself, set out to change the rituals of many cultures in which belief in Jesus did not previously exist. Ask yourself, seriously, if what you are doing is a brand of religious persecution, as well. Then ask yourself if, among all practices associated with any religion, fasting as a small sacrifice to recognize Jesus Christ's much more significant sacrifice is one that truly needs changing.

on handouts, deadbeats and welfare recipients

It's a long, boring, tired and, frankly, ignorant rant of a society that feels it is entitled to determine who deserves assistance and who doesn't. So many excuses have been used to defend such gross prejudice and few of those excuses are ever based on hard cold facts and figures. They are utterances made by people who feel it is more important for them to be condescending in an effort to elevate themselves without any real consideration for the many other details they are too ignorant to consider.

What of those details?

How about the fact that more than 20% of people on assistance are unemployable children who are not to blame for their families' financials struggles. But aren't they? Aren't they the reason many families are in debt? Children cost money, to their guardians and the overall economy. We already know we are over-populated. So why don't we give the government control over our reproductive rights? In essence, let's allow the government to tell us who can and cannot be parents. Yeah. Right.

So how do we give money only to children without allowing their parents to benefit from it? We'd need enough social workers to permanently live in the houses of welfare recipients to constantly monitor spending to ensure that the money is only being spent on the children and not the guardians.

If not that, let's yank these kids away from their homes and deadbeat families. That's an increase of children being declared wards of the state, sent to group homes or placed in the foster system. Our social workers can barely handle the amount of cases they have, now. So we'll need to hire a lot more workers and create a lot more group homes to house and care for the thousands upon thousands of children receiving welfare whose parents aren't working hard enough to deserve assistance.

You only need to be slightly intelligent to see that such a move would not only be a completely inappropriate, violation of human rights but it would end up costing the government and tax-payers infinitely more money that what is already being spent on welfare.

In short, we really can't do anything to ensure that children get the need they deserve while denying their guardians.

Now it's only natural that people want to have some control over how their money is spent. I get it. We should know how our money is spent.

Except we don't know. I literally cannot think of a single person I've talked to about taxes and welfare who has ever taken the time to look up how our taxes are spent despite the fact this information is READILY AVAILABLE.

For instance, residents of Guam who complain about their hard-earned and begrudgingly-paid taxes and how it's not fair that those tax dollars help families on assistance seem to have overlooked one tiny, albeit important fact. Get ready bitchers and complainers:

VERY LITTLE OF YOUR TAXES COLLECTED ON GUAM CONTRIBUTE TO GOVERNMENT-PROVIDED WELFARE ASSISTANT PROGRAMS.

What the federal government spends on actual disbursements to people seeking aid mostly comes from tax-payers in the 50 states. Consider it a give and take. They get to vote for president and have more of a presence in congress, the actual people whose voices factor in these matters. So they get to pay for welfare for the three measly US territories that are eligible for assistance who don't get a voice in anything concerning our federal government.

So maybe it doesn't matter where the assistance is coming from. Maybe you really don't care if it's YOUR money housing deadbeats and what matters here is the principle of receiving a handout. Maybe all you're really concerned about is that it's "not fair".

As adults, you really should have learned by now that life isn't fair.

Are you driving a car that someone else paid for while there are others who can't afford their own vehicles? That's not fair.

Are you living in a free house while many others pay hefty mortgages and actual rent? That's not fair.

I went to private school. No tax-payers' dollars paid for my education. My parents still paid taxes that contributed to public school infrastructure and personnel. That's not fair.

It's not fair that some people have parents and some don't. It's not fair that some people have families that have money to spare while others don't.

Anytime anyone other than yourself has paid, in any amount, for anything you've benefited from, YOU ARE RECEIVING A HANDOUT. And I could easily say that all the deadbeats living charmed lives with parents who can afford to help them don't deserve their handouts. But that's none of my business. But when the government pays for it with our taxes, it is our business, right?

Are you a government worker? Then I'm paying for your salary. If you want to determine howdeserving other people are for welfare assistance, we should also determine how vital your government position is and if we are wasting taxes paying for an employee who doesn't deserve a job.

Are you in the military? There are a lot of citizens that don't agree with how the military spends money. Maybe we should be given the ability to deny paying taxes for military expenditures that we don't agree with.

And that is only the tip of the iceberg. Go ahead and look up the breakdown of tax expenditures. You tell me if you agree with how that money is spent. Then compare the figures of other government expenses to how much is spent on welfare. Is welfare still your primary concern?

But here's the thing: You can take out everything I've previously said and consider only one factor. Just one bit of information that, by now, EVERY SINGLE AMERICAN ADULT WITH FULL MENTAL CAPABILITIES SHOULD ALREADY KNOW.

Check it out, Einstein. We are in a really, really, really bad RECESSION. It's being compared to war-time recession. It's being compared to THE GREAT DEPRESSION. Isn't that the reason so many of you are bitching about welfare assistance? Because our economy can't afford it?

Guess what. The government can't afford it because PEOPLE can't afford it. Not deadbeats. Not drug addicts. Not welfare junkies out to mooch off of the system (you know, the ones who can't mooch off of their families).

Some of the people who can't afford basic necessities in this screwed up economy are educated. Some of them, in fact, have advanced degrees. They didn't stop as undergraduates. They've worked longer and harder and spent their own money or owe thousands of dollars in school loans for multiple degrees that they were told would help secure them a future.

Some of the people who can't afford it have worked for many years. Some have worked most of those years in managerial positions where they once could afford a comfortable life in a decent home, provide for their families and even have savings. And when the economy turned sour, they lost everything, having to dip into their savings only to have that money run out.

Educated people. Capable employees with marketable skills and years of experience. Nurses, teachers, civil service employees. Billions of dollars of tax-payers' dollars are spent on defense and many of our own soldiers are receiving assistance.

Look around you. Lay-offs. Foreclosures. Repossessions. These are not isolated to deadbeats.

This is all the information you are not considering when you make broad-sweeping, blanket statements about a group of people that you have clearly not made any effort to understand.

When you missed the "life isn't fair" lesson, you apparently also missed the lesson about stereotypes.

Keep that in mind the next time you decide to make comments about something you obviously do not understand. Educate yourself and do your research. Don't mimic or parrot misinformation. Take control of your thoughts and actions by thinking things out for yourself. And if you decide to perpetuate prejudice and ignorance, TAKE RESPONSIBILITY for the things you say without backtracking with bogus excuses that begin with, "But I didn't mean..." or "I'm not talking about..." When you offend people with your prejudices, never, ever expect them to treat you with the understanding that you failed to exhibit yourself. Oblivious ignorance is no excuse. If you are ignorant, expect people to call you ignorant.

And that's the last thing you should have learned: Do unto others as you would have them do to you.

20 epic albums while i was in high school...

...and my favorite song from each album.

My personal criteria were as follows:

1. Album should have been released sometime between 1993 and 1997. I generally think that any album that was still very popular during that time counts, even if they were released before 1993. But I stuck to "released" to make it easier to narrow down. Also, the individual songs on the albums could have been released previously as is the case with many soundtracks, greatest hits or other compilations.

2. I had to have been impressed with more than half of the songs on the album.

3. It doesn't have to be "my kind of music" as long as I think it's just a good album.

4. It has to immediately bring me back to high school.

5. Popularity or "number of hits" is the last and least important factor.

6. In picking my favorite song off of the albums, specifically those off of compilations, the song had to instantly remind me of that album.

In no particular order...

2pac - All Eyez on Me



Sublime - Self-titled



Soundgarden - Superunknown

*"Black Hole Sun" is my favorite video



Wu-Tang Clan - Enter the Wu-Tang Clan (36 Chambers)



Massive Attack - Blue Lines



Bjork - Post



Nirvana - MTV Unplugged in New York



Snoop Doggy Dogg - Doggystyle



White Zombie - Astro Creep: 2000 - Songs of Love, Destruction and other Synthetic Delusions of the Electric Head



Pantera - Far Beyond Driven



Tool - Undertow



Stone Temple Pilots - Purple



A Tribe Called Quest - Midnight Marauders



Bush - Sixteen Stone



The Wallflowers - Bringing Down the Horse

*"Bleeders" is actually my favorite song off of this album, now. But A: "One Headlight" was my favorite song off of this album back then and B: They don't have a decent YouTube of "Bleeders" anyway.



Nine Inch Nails - Downward Spiral



Singles - Soundtrack



Judgment Night - Soundtrack



Trainspotting - Soundtrack



The Crow - Soundtrack

better soundtracks - empire records edition - volume 1

In 1995, a wonderfully crappy movie filled with some of the worst performances of its various cast-members' careers emerged as a representation of a generation. Empire Records cannot in any way be considered a "good" movie. But ask the MTV/boomerang/generation-Y crowd and they'll tell you that this cult classic was a big part of the 90s.

The movie was ridiculous but the soundtrack was stellar. Except when drones of teenage girls ran to the stores to score the album, they discovered, as with many other movies, that many of the best songs from the movie were not actually on the official soundtrack.

And with that, I bring you the first installment of my new blog project. I'll be looking up songs from movies that sadly did not make the soundtrack and post what videos are available on YouTube. Finding the songs isn't particularly difficult but the objective is to get them all in one spot and with a description of the scene in which the relevant song played. In an effort to keep each entry short, each movie will likely take up several posts spanning several days.

Some songs you might recognize from Empire Records, in no particular order:

1. Seems by Queen Sarah Saturday

(Where Corey, A.J. and Mark play the M&M game led by Gina to determine who gets to pick the first song to play while they open)



2. Hey Joe by Jimi Hendrix

(When Joe first arrives at the store right before he finds out that the previous night's deposits never made it to the bank)



3. Saddam A Go-Go by Gwar

(The video Mark is watching while he eats the special brownies from Eddie)



4. Rock n Roll/Ega by Daniel Johnston

(Same scene as before, during the end of the Gwar video)



5. Plowed by Sponge

(When they are preparing for the Save the Empire party)

why i've joined the dark side

I had a different reason for writing this when I started. I had a long intro that I scrapped and listed several details that I decided to delete. As I initially rounded the last lap bringing me home to my first intended conclusion, I learned something more about myself and was hit with a realization that is much more profound to me.

I have many reasons for now supporting the build-up. The first being that I learned nothing from some of the people who opposed it. My questions were not answered and I did not know what they were fighting for. Not the best way to get people to understand and agree with your cause. And then the real change started after I was also left with an extreme distaste for the way some of those opinions were expressed in how they mocked and tried to censor those who did not believe what they did. What started out as "the little people" standing against the majority turned into those same little people bullying those who did not agree, all the while complaining about how they feel bullied when they were challenged to answer questions that, again, they could not answer.

But those were ultimately not the main reason I found that I could not, in good conscience, support the most vocal groups that have rallied against the build-up. As the war raged against those who once occupied us, those who still occupy us and those who threaten to occupy us more, I looked at myself and saw a product of all those horrible occupations that have been painted as villains. And it was the first time in 31 years of calling this island "home" that I felt the most unwanted and undeserving of an island that has meant so much to me.

Once upon a time, the race wars had escaped me. While people spoke of how one group or another became the victim of another group simply because of the color of their skin, I wondered why I had never experienced it.

And now I have. Worse, I've never felt more scrutinized and judged because of the color of my skin than I have in my own home. The worst racism I've felt has been from the people who I once thought were of the same race as I. Never, in my travels abroad, have I felt that level of alienation. Never has a person from a different place asked me to qualify my race or ethnicity.

I don't like to qualify my ethnicity. Or my nationality. Or even my gender, for that matter. I see myself, primarily, as a combination of all the experiences I've had and all the lessons I've learned from them, things that are a lot more personal to me, outside of things I have no control over. I did not choose to be a woman. I did not choose my nationality or my ethnicity. I, now, have a little more control over my language but I did not have control over it as I learned to speak.

But of all the things I had no control over, my generation has had much more of an effect on who I am. It's the way the world is around me, during my lifetime, that has dictated much more of my personality than just my ethnicity, just my nationality, just my gender. My culture exists now. I do not live the lives my parents did just as their lives was not the same as that of their parents. Throughout many years, with every occupation, the island's culture has changed. And I'm okay with that. I'm okay with my culture, now. I'm okay with speaking English. And I love that I am a combination of many different ethnic groups, that I am a product of what happens when people don't define themselves exclusively by their ethnicity.

What I'm not okay with is having to answer to other people based on my ethnicity. I'm not okay with being told I should register as being a part of one ethic group as though that's the only part of me deserving of my upbringing on Guam. I'm not okay with having any part of my ethnicity attacked. And again, I'm not okay with feeling like an outsider in my own home for the first time in my life.

Once upon a time I wanted nothing more than to leave an island for a much more anonymous area, where I did not have to live under the watchful eyes or expectation of others. My husband changed that about me. My husband made me see how much I loved my home and how much I cherished being raised here, making me want to raise my children here even more.

I've since changed again, as has my husband. Now that we have children, with just as white of a name and white skin who, if they were judged only by appearance, would not seem to be Chamorro, I want them to grow where they are accepted. I don't want them to live in a place where they'd be victimized by their own people. I don't want them to wonder what it means to be called a "fucking haole".

I know many people will read this and say I've misinterpreted their actions and their cause. I know many will think I've skewed the issue and turned it into something that has little to do with their intentions. I ask that those people really look at their actions and their causes and realize that I'm not the only person who feels this way. I ask that they consider how their actions can be misinterpreted and find another way to promote a cause that does not alienate others. I ask that we all take responsibility for our own actions and understand that we are the ones responsible for the way others see us and if we do not like how we are seen, the power is in our hands to change how people see us.

I had hoped so much to raise my family on this island. With the prospect of relocating to another place in the next ten years, I think about friends I'd miss dearly and how my sons would adapt to such a huge change, if they'd like it at all. I wonder what we'd do if we got out there and my kids decided it was too much for them to deal with and how we'd, then, adapt to coming back home. I wish these were not things I had to consider. There are many reasons people relocate from Guam, chief among them opportunity and affordability in a market that more closely coincides with the cost of living. None of these were enough to make me want to leave. It's heartbreaking to have to face the real reason I want to leave: My white skin is not welcome, here. And no person of any ethnicity should be made to feel unwelcome in their own home.

So why did I join the dark side? Simply put: Because they've been better to me.

on fear, grief, anger and the death of osama bin laden

On May 2, 2011, I woke up from a mid-day nap to find my facebook had exploded with news of the death of Osama Bin Laden -- arguably the most feared man among the American people -- at the hands of US forces.

My reaction was not especially emotional. I saw the situation as believing it was something that needed to be done. I did not share in the elation or sense of security some felt but I respected those sentiments. I acknowledged the happiness people felt while we discussed how this was not over.

And then I braced myself for the commentary provided by others.

I was not let down.

Among the many who rejoiced and the many who hinted at feeling there was little to celebrate were some other out-spoken individuals who had considerably more to say.

The more reasonable called for prayers and reminded those of faith that they have been called to reach out with forgiveness. Some urged others to abandon feelings of anger and hatred in their hearts as both science and spirituality support that anger can be a cancer to a person's mental health.

The well-intentioned but not so eloquent expressed what they truly felt with little consideration, intentional or not, to what their words meant to others.

And there were those who blatantly mocked the relief others felt, used hateful speech toward their fellow man and simply painted themselves as even more ignorant than they had in the past.

It was these reactions the further shaped how I felt about the capture and assassination of Bin Laden.

I am not a person of faith in a greater power. I am a person of faith in human nature and, as such, I do not believe in the necessity to transcend that which makes us human beings. While stating before that hatred and anger can be a cancer, I also believe it is a useful and necessary human emotion provided it does not consume a person. More, I believe it is only up to the individual to abandon hatred when and if that person becomes ready.

As such, the anger and hatred one feels for Bin Laden is, essentially, no one else's business. Whether it's real or misguided, whether it comes from a good place or a bad one, it is not up to another person to determine what it means or how it should be treated. We can never know that much about another person to make that call. In the end, such statements become a judgment. It serves no purpose as the angry person is not likely to pay much mind to the judgment of others, anyway. Bin Laden's family will never see these sentiments of compassion. They will not reach his mourners and if they did, I somehow doubt that radical extremists will care about the sympathy of capitalist American infidels. Ultimately, it achieves the opposite of what the speaker actually intends: In calling for less judgment on a person largely viewed as a monster, it casts judgment on those angry, innocent civilians who do not create public policy and did not do anything to the terrorists who took the lives of their loved ones.

A call to forgive and to open our hearts is one thing and I respect that as a sentiment echoed in a Martin Luther King, Jr. misquote that has gone viral. But some have crossed the line into an unintentional judgment on those who cannot forgive, some of whom just cannot forgive right now.

Then there is the issue of fear, of whether Bin Laden's death makes us more or less safe than before. It reminds me of my childhood, when I mistook the airplanes flying over my house for giants on the roof. My father told me he'd call the airport and ask them to send planes to check on the house so that when I heard them, I knew someone was making sure there were no giants there.

It doesn't make sense and it's not supposed to. It was meant to appease a little girl and rid her of her fear. Fear doesn't necessarily change as we grow and our reaction to it doesn't always mature. Another thing that does not change about fear is that it can consume a person even more than hatred. Thus, when given the chance, whether by our own hands or the actions of others, we may choose to abandon that fear in an attempt to feel safer, however misguided, just so we can move on with our lives. Often, that is simply what justice is about.

So is that a bad thing? Is it really that bad for people to feel more safe that Bin Laden is dead? These are not the people effecting or creating public policy. They have no say-so as to how any war on terrorism is fought and have nothing to do with public safety. They are not the people who need to be vigilant about security on a national or global scale. They are the people who need to have a better state of mind so that they can live their lives as normally as possible.

Truly, anyone who chooses to mock or extinguish that false sense of security is a hateful, malicious person who serves little purpose to himself and those around him.

I also detest the ignorance of futility expressed that catching one person means nothing. If someone hurt my child, I would not react by saying, "So what? There are more people who can hurt my kids so why bother trying to catch the person we know already hurt him?"

Finally, I cannot muster much sympathy for the death of Bin Laden. I sat in tears ten year ago, watching desperate people jump to their deaths, seeing how the immense loss of life hurt those closest to the tragedies, knowing that our world and lives would be forever changed as we became a generation not of world wars, cold wars or conflicts in other lands, but a generation known for its war on terrorism and the first time in many of our lives that such a massive destruction of life was ordered in our own country. I am not interested in forgiving the man who took credit for that loss even as I respect those who have forgiven him. I care more that his death has given many more people a sense of relief. I care more that those who lost anything or anyone on September 11 have been given a sense of justice. In a world where god comes in many forms and means something different to many people, the only justice I believe in, that has any effect on our lives, is that which man creates.

Saying that you cannot rejoice in another person's death is fine. It hurts no one. Saying that you do not like the joy others express is a judgment that does hurt people. Saying that we should be more aware of the danger his death means is okay. Telling people they are stupid for feeling relief is not.

I urge people to consider, first, those who were lost when the terrorists attacked and those who experienced that loss, first-hand, miles away from the majority of us who only saw it from afar. Consider what it would mean if that happened a lot closer to home. Consider how angry and hateful you would be to the person who hurt your family and took them away from you and how willing you would be to forgive that person. Consider how you'd feel if the person who hurt you were caught. No one should take those feelings away from you and you'd be insulted if they tried. Offer thoughts of peace and support and allow them their anger, grief and relief and the ability to come to terms with this on their own.

We said we will never forget and I know I never will. I hope for peace and strength in those who felt this the most and am unashamed in the degree of pleasure I have taken that Osama is gone in the literal definition of the word as I am, in fact, pleased that justice, as many of us define it, has been served.

only on guam?!

A couple of years ago, GOP Vice Presidential candidate and Governor of Alaska, Sara Palin, dismissed Alaska's police commissioner for not playing ball when he did not reprimand or fire Palin's former brother-in-law for a personal family matter.

Around the same time, democratic Presidential hopeful John Edwards was found to have cheated on his ill wife, fathered his mistress' child and paid another man working with him to publicly claim that the child was his and not Edwards'.

Edwards wasn't the only one tangled with someone who was not his spouse. New York Governor Eliot Spitzer was found with an pricey call girl. Detroit mayor Kwame Kilpatrick was convicted for lying under oath about his affair with his chief of staff. And this was all in 2008. Very recent history.

Let's not forget that famous blue dress and cigar that Clinton made popular; Marion Barry's now famous "Bitch set me up." phrase uttered after he was caught with crack and a woman who was not his wife; JFK's numerous alleged affairs, including one with Marilyn Monroe. There are clearly many more well-known affairs in and out of the political office.

The current governor of California gained fame as a body-builder turned mediocre action movie star. I guess if Ronald Reagan can do it, so can the man who uttered deep, memorable lines like, "I'll be back." and "It's not a toomah!!!"

I'd mention even more political scandals and simple WTF moments but I don't have enough time in my life to mention them all, from our most recent government dating back to a time well before Thomas doubted, Simon Peter denied and Judas betrayed their homeboy Yeshua.

Outside of the political world, there are even more scandals and crimes that rock civilian lives. If I mentioned all of those, my grandchildren would have to take over this blog entry.

So what about recently? As in today, around the nation. What's going on?

A toddler fell to his death at the Staples Center and was met with claims that the center met all building codes, leaving many people to wonder how a toddler could get past coded railings. A narcotics agent was charged with grand theft and embezzlement after accusations of stealing money and accepting bribes from drug suspects were brought up. The water in Barstow was recently cleared after a previous contamination, not from fecal matter (no hanom taki for them) but from a chemical used in rocket fuel, very likely the byproduct of meth labs that run rampant in that part of the nation, as it does in many other states. There were 17 reported homicides in one week in LA county bringing up the homicide rate for the year to 563. A man and his son, in attempting to rob a bank, set off a bomb that killed two officers. Members of the US Army's Fifth Stryker Brigade were charged with drug use, slaughtering Afghan civilians for no reason and defiling corpses.

That's not all the news, of course. That's not even all the news from two West-coast states today.

But that's just crime and scandal. What about crimes that seem too ridiculous to be true? Such as a kung-fu student in Australia in the 80s breaking and entering into a zoo because he was told he could fight a wild animal with his bare hands. He was never tried for trespassing, of course. Because he died. Because he tried to wrestle a lion.

What about the idiot who, long ago, stole the Mona Lisa from the Louvre and attempted to sell it to another gallery?

Crime. Scandal. There's more to it than that, isn't there?

Our nation's capital can proudly boast the worst school district in the country with three out of four students falling below math test standards. With nearly $13-thousand-per-student costs, a pittance goes to the actual schools or students. The DC district ranks as the highest paid to administration and the lowest spent on the actual students or their needs. They wait, on average, just over a year for structural repairs to buildings that should otherwise be condemned.

The commonwealth-run states in the US make up the worst cases of healthcare in the nation. The average wait in a Nevada ER is five hours and 15 minutes. The same could be said about Arizona. Texas has the most uninsured residents in the 50 states. You also have to wait a really long time in their ERs. The wait is not much better in New Mexico, Arkansas, Utah, Oklahoma and Idaho.

There are wars erupting all over the world, countries where more than half of the citizens are living well below poverty, leaders with iron fists and heavy artillery, coups, abandoned and abused babies as the norm, rampant diseases with no local health officials trying to curb the spread, mothers who fear that they and their daughters will be raped while their young children are slaughtered and their husbands are ordered by threat of torture to take part in wars they want nothing to do with, children armed with semi-automatic weapons, censored media and news that is completely denied and death tolls that rise by the hundreds within weeks.

And, quite shockingly, none of these things take place on Guam. They had absolutely nothing to do with Guam outside of our local soldiers fighting under the American flag.

Yet people still seem to enjoy uttering the phrase "Only on Guam" as though we have a monopoly on idiotic and corrupt government leaders, crime, a poor state of education and healthcare, on top of many other issues. More disheartening is when such utterances come from local people, born and bred on an island that they continue to scorn and in an open forum where anyone from any part of the world can view such nice sentiments about the people and culture who raised such jackasses.

I wonder, really, if the one thing that exists on Guam and nowhere else are people who are oblivious to the world around them who choose not to open a paper or turn on the news and see, very clearly, that these things do not exist only on Guam.

I guess I'd have to ask those OOG people. Apparently, they're the real experts.

from small beans to corporate beanstalks

In the 1840s, a London bookbinder crossed the Atlantic with his six children sans a wife and mother to help care for them and proceeded to raise his children on a farm in Illinois. The eldest of these children went on to work for the Chicago Tribune and rose in the ranks. A few years later, he became the manager of the Detroit Tribune and then part owner of the Detroit Daily Advertiser, eventually using insurance money to start his own paper. This new paper, The Evening News, was much different from other printed news outlets at the time, appealing to the working class, utilizing advertising and common speech to appeal to this new class that was previously ignored. Later, his younger brother started working at the paper as an office boy. This office boy, with the help of family in the form of loans, went on to own and operate some 25 other newspapers.

This corporation grew to be one of the most successful and expansive media conglomerates in the US: The E.W. Scripps Company.

Much later, in the mid-20th century, a Jewish-Hungarian immigrant who was only one of two people in her family to survive the holocaust as a young girl, brought her son to Queens, New York, while the young boy's father stayed behind in Europe. This young son, with dreams of becoming a rock star, changed his name to reflect one of his idols and formed a band. While disbanding and forming new bands, he also held odd jobs on the side. In the 70s, he finally found a group of band-mates with whom he fit and this group set out to be the ultimate rock group.

Three decades later, KISS became a mainstay in the music world with Gene Simmons as a marketing genius, first turning their music into music business and furthering his business to encompass many successful ventures of which most are aware of.

Around the same time but much further away, on a tiny little island very few people in the world knew about outside of those countries who occupied this island, a young man working for a bank pre-WWII decided to work as an insurance agent. When the war put his business on hold, he came back afterward, quitting his job at the bank and selling insurance by himself working out of his own home.

Years later, the patriarch of the Calvo family, Eduardo Calvo, expanded his business to encompass many other companies, becoming what is arguably the most successful family business on the island of Guam.

All three are examples of men who started small, worked hard and created a successful corporation based on that hard work. Further, all three went on to create families that benefited from their ventures, all the while instilling such virtues in their families.

All of this considered, I often wonder why people choose not to look into the readily available information about these families' origins when extolling the virtues of hard work, the little man, the self-made, the small businesses.

Recently, Eddie Calvo, an established politician - as many others have been from this same family - ran for the highest office in our local government. And, as expected, words were spoken about the monopoly his family has on the island and, more, could not separate the politician from the family business as Eddie has tried to do, personally. The Calvos and Eddie, in particular, were accused of not understanding the plight of the blue collar, the small business-owner, the people who were not born into wealth but had to work hard for it. Apparently, opponents don't seem to care about how this family started. They don't bother to get to know the people of this family, where they come from, how they raise their children or what they expect of those children who choose to be a part of the family business.

They've also ignored the simple fact that Eddie Calvo's opponent is not exactly the patriarch of a blue-collar family, that Gutierrez, for all he's said about being for the people, has not lived the hardships of the same people, what with his own mansion, his own money, his own ranch, he equally has been spared the struggle.

It makes me consider a comparison to another hugely successful and ridiculously wealthy family the world is all too familiar with: The Hiltons. One daughter was kicked out of school as a teenager and had to earn a GED. Another successfully graduated from high school with an actual diploma but, like her sister, chose not to pursue higher education and instead, also rode the coattails of her rich family. Both sisters used money endowed to them, but not truly earned, and a known family name to start their own businesses.

The Calvo family could have easily copied this model. But they did not. Like many others in the Calvo family, Eddie had to go to college and earn a degree, further earning a place in the family business.

I accept that the recent generations of Calvo family probably don't truly understand the struggles of the working class and those with significantly fewer possessions and opportunities. It's hard to understand a life one has been spared from. But this does not mean that a person born to opportunity does not understand the value of hard work. It also does not mean that such fortunate people are incapable of caring for those less fortunate.

One of the things Gutierrez's supporters have used to backup the claim that Gutierrez cares for the people is the fact that several people - not many and not most - have received help from Gutierrez, whether the aid was significant in bettering their family's lives or if it was a small, genuine act of kindness, the assumption being that Calvo does not have his own litany of kind acts under his belt. So where are the people who Calvo has been kind to?

Well, I'm right here. Upon being discharged from the hospital following the birth of my first son, a hurried Eddie Calvo raced down the hallway to exit the hospital. As he glanced over his shoulder briefly and spotted me, he proceeded to walk away when he turned to look at me and my son again. Despite his obvious rush, he decided to turn around and come to see us. As a new mother enamored with my newborn son, I was pleased to see someone excited so see my son as Eddie Calvo congratulated me and told me what a blessing becoming a parent was.

Just a couple short weeks later, as I celebrated the new life in my family, I mourned the loss of another life having lost my father. Because my father was the brother of a well-known politician and a beloved priest, his hospital viewing upon his death was not limited to family members. Many agency heads and politicians came to pay respects to my father. There was no separation of parties. Democrat leaders offered me kind words and comfort. There was no separation of current politicians and former ones. Public figures who did not hold current office also came to pay respects. Around this time, Eddie Calvo also learned that we were barely scraping by living in a small apartment on one of his family's properties that was previously just small enough for two adults, not big enough for our growing family. He made an offer to help us find a larger room that we could afford. We didn't take this offer but it was nonetheless appreciated.

During this hard time, I spoke to several public figures who were only one of many people who crowded the church during my father's funeral. And with the exception of a certain politician's wife, none of the other figures left me with a sense of politicking. They were a comfort when I needed it most.

There was one particular former politician who wasn't there, just as he wasn't there when my grandmother, his cousin, passed away five years prior.

I realize I am one person. But it would be naive to assume that I am only one of a small few.

Evidenced here is a person who came from a fortunate family that did not have a start in fortune. Evidenced here is a person who was capable of helping those who did not have his fortune and a kind person who cared about someone other than himself.

Most importantly, evidenced here is a success story of a small business of one growing into successful business that has housed, clothed, fed and educated a wealth of further generations of this successful family.

From my perspective, Eddie Calvo is a prime example of what small business ventures can create.

90s candy - Volume 2

Here is the second installment of 90s Candy.

11. Lemonhead Candy - Evan Dando

The Lemonheads were a classic 90s pop alternative band that saw a wealth of associated acts as cameos in various Lemonhead lineups throughout the decade. And Evan was their eponymous leader from start to finish, the only part of the original lineup to still be a part of the act. A nicely rugged, faintly hippie face was not enough of a cover for eyes that looked like they were stolen from a starving, homeless dog hungry for affection. Not as well-known as most heartthrobs of the time but topped most of my lists.












12. Pretty Candy - Sebastian Bach

Skid Row made their first appearance in the late 80s but the 10 years they took up most of the 90s. Their leader, Sebastian Bach, set himself apart from the average heavy metal front man with a face that was strangely feminine and voice that was just as beautiful. Yet there was still no denying the masculinity of his bad-boy charm.












13. Gone too Soon Candy - River Phoenix

I often refer to River as the person who should have been the love of my life. This young man nailed every role he ever had in a litany of movies vastly different from each other. The emotional strength he brought to his roles seemed evident as a part of his actual personality. But those emotional strengths are easily turned around as emotional weaknesses in beautiful heart that was much too fragile for this world. Though most close to him and the legion of fans River still has could almost predict his death in 1993, it stunned people nonetheless. Here was the one actor of his generation who could have been bigger and greater than all the rest.












14. Crow Candy - Brandon Lee

Speaking of gone to soon, here's someone we lost before he really got the chance to show us how incredible he could have been. Though he did a handful of movies that didn't hit the mainstream and didn't get him noticed, it was cult classic The Crow that put him on the radar. Sadly, it was also the movie he was filming when he lost his life to a horrible accident, one that scarred those around him for years. Many props have to be given to the directors of The Crow for not only choosing the only man who could play Eric Draven, but continuing the movie in honor of his legacy and retaining Brandon as Draven, using footage they had gathered before his untimely death.








15. Alternative Candy 1 - Mike Patton

Faith No More OWNED alternative music in the 90s, along with acts like Porno for Pyros and Jane's Addiction, instead of the many years that followed where nearly every band that wasn't classic rock or hard rock was stuck with an "alternative" label where it didn't really fit. But Faith No More was the only band of the early 90s with a some sweet, sweet candy leading the pack.













16. Alternative Candy 2 - Gavin Rossdale

In the mid-90s, we were introduced to Bush and their gorgeous crooner, Gavin. This particular magazine cover graced my walls throughout my teen years and was responsible for many good dreams.












17. Grunge Candy - Chris Cornell

Few musical movements can define the 90s the way grunge has. Of all the bands to have come from the Seattle area and reach the mainstream, Soundgarden was one of the biggest to actually stick to the grunge formula, albeit in a harder, more power-chord driven way. And Chris was the hottest man to lead a group of grungy rockers.












18. Candy with a Message - Eddie Vedder

Also leading a band from the Seattle area, this was the least grungy of the groups though they eventually developed a sound a lot closer to the music that came from the grunge era. Eddie also set himself apart as the non-Seattle native to front a band from the area and characterized himself as a singer and songwriter with a message, drawing from the news to fuel their music and setting melody to social commentary. Obviously a personal favorite of mine, this is a crush that has not ended for me.












19. Character Candy - Jordan Catalano

Like Legolas many years later, this is an example of how a character can be totally dreamy while the actual actor isn't so much. Dumb, cute and totally oblivious, Jordan made alienated teenage girls all over the world blush.










20. Untamed Candy - Christian Slater

One of my first celebrity crushes of the late 80s and early 90s, Christian Slater had a wealth of movies with different roles that had girls drooling. After his 80s appearance as J.D., the destructive anarchist we all knew and loved years before we knew anything about Fight Club, Slater played a young mobster, a shy busboy with a baboon heart and wayward Clyde-like character in an ensemble cast that became a super cult classic.

90s candy - Volume 1

I like a nice view, even if that's all it amounts to.

So a friend of mine posts a picture on FB on one of her favorite views. I commented and we shared a few comments about such views. So I decided to share pictures of my favorite views, also known as "Eye Candy".

A couple of my candy men aged me as a total 90s girl. Actually, all of it aged me since the more current heartthrobs on my list are older men. But that's different from having discovered some of the throwback candy in my teens over a decade ago. Other girls from the same era commented on that fact and we agreed that our eye candy was better back then. I mentioned my 90s eye candy list would be incredibly long and someone asked me to make that list.

I figured there's quite enough eye candy pictures in folders on my FB and this would be ridiculously long (did I mention that?). So I thought I'd do a simple list.

But what's the use of a list of eye candy without the actual candy?

So I've decided to break them down into different blog entries and show the pictures.

Warning: There will be no Leo on this list. I'm sorry. I just won't go there.

In no particular order, here are the first 10:

1. Jump Street Candy - Johnny Depp

Also known as "Cross Over Candy" as he's arguably better now and because 21 Jump Street started in the late 80s. But the 90s is when many of us first took notice of one of our biggest crushes ever. On the cover of THE best magazine of the 90s, no less.













2. Slacker Candy - Ethan Hawke

Reality Bites was THE Gen X movie. And on paper, Ben Stiller's character was clearly the better choice. Successful, open to having a relationship, not prone to emotional outbursts or thinly disguised apathy. But who in their right mind would choose Ben over Ethan? Here's the man who started us on our poor boyfriend choices. But he was damn nice to look at.









3. Dumb as Dirt Candy - Keanu Reeves

We all know it. Boy was this pretty boy completely clueless. Again, it's all about the eye candy. The man responsible for the legions of Keanus born in the 90s.











4. Cool James Candy - L.L. Cool J.

I once had to explain what the draw was to a 21st century generation girl. It's really simple. Lips. Ladies loved those lips. And my man knew it. His body wasn't half bad, either.











5. Camelot Candy - JFK Jr.

Oh my. Our very own Prince of America. There are no words. He defined it.













6. Legend Candy - Brad Pitt

No, no, no. Pitt is not a legend. Tristan was the legend. There were many movies in the 90s to explain why Brad Pitt topped most lists, despite how over him we are now. But Legends of the Fall was where it all came to a head. Also responsible for the Tristans born around this time.













7. Funky Bunch Candy - Marky Mark

Serious actor my ass. This was by far the most delicious Mark Wahlberg, even if you couldn't take him very seriously. Calvin Klein knew his stuff.













8. Dimples Candy - Antonio Sabato Jr.

Janet Jackson had all the hot guys in her videos in the 90s.













9. MTV Candy 1 - Simon Rex

I almost hate to put this here since he's the king of douches, now. But back then we didn't see it coming. Anyone who watched Felicity religiously back in the day is aware of his small role in the series. His really, really hot, small role. That curly-headed freak was insane to not want to pursue the cute, brooding artsy guy. They are more than just a phase, you know.













10. MTV Candy 2 - Dan Cortese

Sure he looked silly with the damn bandanna. But underneath that was a nice face and a nicer body. Both MTV Candy made an appearance on What I Like About You as Jennie Garth's flames. Lucky bitch.