I came across this quote the other day, on one of my friends' Facebook status updates of all things, and it really made me pause for thought.

  For as long as I can remember, I've tried to live with the utmost integrity, morality, and idealism- with mixed results.  Not in a self-righteous or "showy" sort of way; but merely because I believe it is my privilege and responsibility to do so.  I have been nowhere near perfect, but I have always aimed for it.

  However, when I read that quote, the line that stuck with me most was, "Be not simply good, be good for something."  It made me think back a few years to my brother, and perhaps my lowest point in being his brother.

  My brother, for all of the things that he's grown into and out of, has been and probably always will be my most favorite person on the planet.  This kid has more wit and charisma than you can believe, and he wields them both like Michelangelo wielded a paint brush.  He's hilarious, he's dynamic, and he's one of the best friends you could ever ask for- loyal, committed, loving, and honest.  There has never been a time where I have felt that my brother wasn't on my side, wasn't supporting me.

  Even when he was a baby, barely learning to walk, if he heard me crying because I bumped my head or something in the other room, he would come storming in ready to take names and kick asses, questioning, "Who made my brother cry?!?!?!"

  He has always been, and continues to be, fierce with his love and devotion to me and the rest of our family.

  That's what makes this story so upsetting.

  He was in junior high school at the time, and I - three years his senior- was in high school.  For whatever reason (I don't remember why, exactly), there was some group of punk kids that had a problem with him.  They were bullying him somewhat, threatening to beat him up for something moronic - probably some rumor somebody made up.  He would tell me about it; and I, trying to maintain a strong example of moral fortitude, told him to let an administrator know, to try to avoid them, and not to fight.

  As much as he had tried to follow my suggestions, the administrators could only warn the other boys ,as they had not "technically done anything" yet; and even still, the bullies would simply wait around and watch for my brother in order to corner and pester him, no matter how stealthy he tried to be.  He tried handling things without violence and with respect; but it became apparent that, as is the case with certain classes of people, words - neither the administrators' nor his - were going to settle things.  

  They ended up challenging him to a fight, and he agreed.

  It was supposed to be a one-on-one fight with who I suppose was the "main" kid that had a problem with him at West Haven Park, at 3pm.

  My brother knew better than to go alone, and began gathering a crew of his own - just in case things got crazy.  Two of my cousins caught wind of what was going down and, without hesitation, enlisted their services.  Feeling like he could stand a chance with some older muscle on his side, my brother then approached me and asked for my help.

  He asked me, and I, without hesitation, said, "No."

  I told him I didn't want any part of it.  I told him that I wasn't going to support his engaging in violence with these low-lives.  I told him he was better than this, and that it wasn't going to solve anything.

  He didn't respond.  He didn't react.  He acknowledged what I had said, and walked away.

  Thankfully, the bullies ended up just being a bunch of cowards, and no blood was shed.  They eventually just left my brother alone, and things returned to normalcy.

  I didn't think much of it then, and hadn't since - until I read that quote.

  "Be not simply good, be good for something."

  At the time, I believed I had done the right thing.  I believed I had stood my ground against violence, that I had maintained my example of goodness and morality for my brother to follow in the future.

  But I hadn't stood against violence- I had stood against him.  

  He wasn't a fool, and he wasn't a barbarian.  He had no interest in fighting, in creating any sort of tension whatsoever.  His battle was not of his own invention; but rather one that was thrust upon him.  He was given no choice, and he knew, like my cousins who stood by him knew, that evil does not follow the same rules and limitations that goodness does.  Evil will not be legislated.  Evil will not be talked down.  Evil must be broken, must be destroyed.

  This is why he chose to fight.  Not because he wanted to, or because he thought it was the right thing to do; but because it was the only thing he could do to defend and protect himself.  He had tried every other option; but found no relief.  And when he decided to stand up straight and face the potential danger that awaited him, he looked for his big brother to stand beside him, as he rightly should; and I said, "No."

  Even as I write this and reflect, I am sick to my stomach.

  How could I abandon my brother in his time of need?  

  How could I let him down so miserably?  

  After all the fuss I was always making about integrity, peace, and honor, about protecting the ideals and people we love; how I could I condemn him - a scared little boy, if nothing else - to face the darkness on his own?

  That is when I realized that goodness, like all things, is a double-edged sword.

  When it comes down to it, what good is honor when you allow it to force you to forsake those that have given you reason to believe it is something worth upholding?

  What good is integrity when it is used as a mask for cowardice?

  What good are morals when they are only used in judgement?

  What good is being "good," when it causes you to allow evil to sneak under your self-righteous feet?

  What good is peace when it renders you incapable of, and unwilling to, pay the price for it?

  As much as we must do our best to limit our own moral lacking, must we protect others and ourselves from our own moral abuse.

  As much as one can take cruelty to a gross extent, one can take nobility.

  The day my brother asked me to help him, to protect him, was the day that I failed him.  I let my morality be more important than its reason for being in the first place- to serve and protect the ones I love.

  We see this all the time with political and social figures who let their own sense of "right" undermine its purpose.

  Countless people have been persecuted based on religions and beliefs that are supposed to promote goodness and harmony.  

  Wars have been waged in the name of peace.

  Countries have been infiltrated and overtaken in the name of liberty.

  The bottom line is - as important as it is to live with honor, with integrity, and morals; we must always give attention to the balance of good and evil within ourselves; for the over-extension of either is equally dangerous.

  So, please, be good- but be good for something.

  With that in mind, I figured it wouldn't hurt to make a reference post on some of the more common mistakes I see on status updates, comments, etc.

  Now, as a disclaimer, I'm certainly not a master of the English language; nor am I trying to poke fun at or look down on anybody.  The simple fact is, the way we speak and the way we write are incredibly important to how others view us; and when so many of us spend so much effort trying to make ourselves look our best and to have something to talk about, why not have the know-how to do so articulately?

  In any case, I mean no disrespect; and if this post somehow labels me as some sort of snob, well, I guess there's not a whole lot I can do about that haha.

  Anywho, onward!

There vs. Their vs. They're

Mixing up these three "words" is one of the most common mistakes I see. With that in mind, I feel like it's a good one to help clear the confusion with.

There

The word "there" refers to a location of a person, place or thing.

  ex. Hey, can you put that over there?

  ex. I moved from here to there.

  Their

  The word "their" is a possessive pronoun.  It's used to indicate ownership the same way "his," "hers," "mine," and "yours" do.

  ex. That is their house.

  ex. That hat belongs to their son.

 They're

   "They're" is actually a contraction of the two words "they" and "are," and should only be used in place of the phrase "they are."

   ex.  They are coming over at seven. = They're coming over at seven.

   ex.  Ray says he'll go if they're going.

Similarly, It's vs. Its

  "It's" and "its" share the same difference as "they're" and "their."  "It's" is a contraction of the phrase "it is," while "its" is a possessive pronoun along the lines of "his," "hers," and "yours."

  ex. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

  ex. Look - it's wagging its tail!

Remember, Punctuation Is Important!

  One little apostrophe, comma, hyphen, etc. can completely change the meaning of a sentence, as well as its coherency.

  ex. Let's eat mommy! vs. Let's eat, Mommy!

  ex. Were going to the gym tonight vs. We're going to the gym tonight.

 Remember, Spelling Is Important!

  Just as one little punctuation mark can completely change the meaning or correctness of a sentence, so can one little letter.

  ex. Do you now where my keys are? vs. Do you know where my keys are?

  ex. I'm going to lose weight this year. vs. I'm going to loose weight this year.

  The word "lose" is a synonym for the word "drop," whereas the word "loose" is a synonym for the word "unleash."  Beware those friends that say they're going to "loose weight"- not for spelling reasons; but for safety ones.

"Sounding It Out" Doesn't Always Work

  If you don't understand or know what it is you're actually saying, spelling and grammar aren't going to be much help.

  ex.  Supposably, the test is next Friday. vs. Supposedly, the test is next Friday.

  The word "supposably" insists that something is capable of being supposed; whereas "supposedly" insists that something is believed to be true.  While using "supposably" is not entirely incorrect, it's really only correct in saying something is "supposable."

  ex. I should've gone to the movies. vs. I should of gone to the movies.

  The first sentence states that the speaker "should have" gone to the movies, while the second sentence doesn't state anything.

More vs. -Er

   Sometimes, it's tough to know when to use "more" or the suffix "-er" when comparing things.  While it isn't a "hard and fast rule," generally-speaking, if an adjective has two or fewer syllables, add "-er" to the end of the adjective; however, if the adjective has three or more syllables, use the word "more" in front of it.

  ex.  That girl is smarter than me vs. That girl is more smart than me.

  ex.  That girl is intelligenter than me vs. That girl is more intelligent than me.

  Also, don't use both "more" and "-er" together to describe the same adjective (ex. more better).

The Bottom Line

 More often than not, these mistakes, as well as others, are made not because we don't know how to spell or don't know different grammatical rules; but rather because we just have a mental slip.  Either because we're just trying to work too fast, or aren't putting an effort in, we simply concern ourselves with getting our point across- however correctly or incorrectly.

  That being said, many of these mistakes we can catch ourselves making if we just look over what we've written before we hit "post" or "send."  It doesn't take much effort; but doing or not doing so can make a huge difference in your perceived intelligence, education, and credibility in the eyes of others.

  So, don't be too hasty, and don't be lazy with your writing.  With the advent of "spell/grammar check" and Google search bars, there's no reason not to take a second to make sure you're getting a word, or phrase, or name, etc. right.

  That's all for this week, folks.  Thanks for reading.

  Happy Typing!

  "The goal of technology these days is to re-create something that exists in the real world in an imaginary one."

  Although he was referring to the emergence and sophistication of DAW plug-ins aimed at re-creating the warmth and frequency grasp of analog recording in a purely digital format, what he said was so spot-on about technology as a whole.

  Think about it- what technological advances these days aren't about simulation?

  Video games such as Rock Band and Wii Sports simulate the experience of playing an actual instrument or a sport such as tennis or bowling.

  Social networking sites and applications such as Facebook, eHarmony, and AOL Instant Messenger exist to transplant human, social interaction (and all that comes with it) from the real word to the computer screen.

  However, if these "things" (ie. guitar-playing and conversation) exist in the real world already, what makes their digital counterparts so popular, so much more appealing?  Why do we bother spending so much time, energy, and money trying to create something "real," when the real thing exists already?

  Simply put- convenience.

  It's much more convenient to press the power button on your XBOX 360 KINECT and start playing a game of 9-hole than it is to pack your clubs, find and put on your plaid pants, drive to a golf course, stand out in the 90-degree sun, and throw out your back on your thirteenth practice swing.  Besides, you can curse a lot louder in your living room than you can in an actual sand trap.

  Speaking of adding insult to injury, another reason why such technologies are so popular is safety- not just physical, but emotional as well.

  For example, sending some sweet, young thang a message on Match.com is infinitely less pressure-filled than actually walking up to said hottie at the bar, dog park, art gala, or wherever the heck people meet people these days.  If she's not interested, she doesn't have to respond; and you can sulk in your quiet shame without having to be turned down in front of her friends, your friends, and the eight other women you considered pursuing.  Needless to say, it's much easier to "poke" that same gal on Facebook than it is at Barnes & Noble.

  While convenience and safety are all well and good, ones has to ask one's self- what's the downside?  It's no secret that every innovation is a double-edged sword.  After all, leave it to one of the world's most powerful sources of energy to also have the capacity to kill roughly 80,000 people in the course of day, and more than double that in the fallout that ended World War II.

  While I don't think hours of Just Dance 2 is necessarily going to lead to genocide or something, one has to consider the adverse effects of living in a world with MySpace and PS3 Move.

  One such affect, would be atrophy; and not just the weakening and lessing of our bodies, but of our minds and souls as well.

  It's amazing how much money and time we spend researching and putting together the perfect entertainment system, complete with the highest-definition television and digital surround sound systems on the market, just to make the big game on Sunday that much more "realistic" or "authentic" when we could be using that same money for gas and tickets to the big game itself.  

  In this way, while we don't necessarily miss the game; we miss the stimulation, the experience.  

  We miss seeing the heat of our breath leaving our mouths as we wait in the biting cold to see if our boys got that pivotal first down.

  We miss the smell of beer and hotdogs that permeate through the open winter air.

  We miss the the shaking of our bones above the thunderous rumbling of the rafters as we, and 30,000 of our friends, rise to our feet as the long bomb connects to put one in the win column in overtime.

  By trading experience for convenience, our memory, and memories, atrophy.

  Furthermore, what good does reaching the Pro level for tennis in Wii Sports do when we pull our withering hamstrings trying to get up to change the batteries on the Wiimote?  Our bodies were made for moving, for doing.  When we don't use them to their fullest, our bones and muscles deteriorate and literally die before their time, before being fully realized.

  This is nearly the definition of "atrophy."

  In an another case, with games like Rock Band becoming as sophisticated as they are, I can promise you that if you can get five stars on the drums for "Tom Sawyer," you can most definitely "manage" on a real set.  And while Rock Band is plenty fun, and pretty useful at times, it just doesn't beat learning to play the real thing.  Learning how to play an instrument is one of the most enriching things one can ever do.  Not only is it a great stress reliever and a terrific way to make yourself instantly "cooler," but it challenges you.  It challenges  your discipline.  It challenges you to think of ways to articulate yourself in a given format.  It challenges you to not merely mimic, but to create something new, something beautiful.

  When we stop challenging ourselves to think creatively, to look for new answers to old questions, we let our minds atrophy.

  Sometimes, getting shot down is exactly what you need.  Sometimes, a conversational or otherwise interpersonal public gaffe is exactly what you need.  Either way, regardless of success,  in-person, human contact is incredibly vital to effective communication.  It is in-person that we truly learn how to communicate with one another.  

  In-person, we learn about body language.

  In-person, we learn about dynamics.

  In-person, we learn about timing.

  In-person, we learn about nuance.

  In-person, we learn firsthand, good or bad, how our words and actions affect others.

  There is so much about the art of communication that simply cannot be expressed through text messages and emoticons; and the more separation there is between our messages and our meanings, the greater the consequence and the less power those meanings begin to have.

  The less time we actually spend with people, the less we understand how to properly respond to them, and they to us.  Without that in-person interaction, our sensibility, sensitivity, and rhetoric begin to atrophy.

  Convenience and safety come at a price- our work ethic, discipline, and sense of personal responsibility- and at an interest rate none of us can afford.

  More than that, the more we allow technology to allow us to "take it easy," or "take the guess work out," or anything along those lines, the more we atrophy as a whole, the more we deteriorate as a whole.

  Instead of spending so much time, energy, and money into making fake things "real," why not use those resources to make real things realized?

For this first entry of 2011, I decided to give some short introductions to a few of the supporting cast members that will be undertaking this next chapter of my musical journey with me.  In other words, meet the band!

First off, I'd like to introduce my drummer and friend of nearly 10 years- Mr. Carlos Macias.

Carlos Macias

Carlos has been in just about every band that I've ever been in, including our first group, Three Random Guys (formed in 2001!), and there isn't anybody else I'd rather have holding down the rhythmic fort.  In addition to playing with me, he'll be spearheading his own musical project, Crtve Assault in 2011.

Next up is the sexiest viking I know- on bass guitar, Mr. Doug Davis.

Doug Davis

I've known Doug for about a good decade now as well; but he didn't officially join the ranks until 2008.  He actually hadn't been a bass player prior to joining the group; but he picked it up in order to help me out with a few gigs.  One of his first shows with Carlos and myself was a 4th of July Battle of the Bands at the Queen Mary in Long Beach, CA.  He was an instant crowd favorite, and since then his boomy, milkshake-self has been bringing all the boys, and girls to the yard.  Yeah, I just made that joke.

Last but not least is the newest member of the group, Mr. Eugene Kang, playing lead guitar.

Eugene Kang

Eugene and I first met at an audition for a short film we acted in together.  We both were casted in the film and spent all of filming getting to know each other.  In the market for a new guitarist, he revealed his axe-wielding talents to me and I haven't hesitated to give him a shot.  I'm looking forward to his first gig with me and the rest of the guys.

Carlos, Doug, Eugene and I are all incredibly pumped to begin playing for, and quite possibly entertaining, you folks in 2011.  We'll see you at a dive bar, arena, or 1970s garage near you!

On an unrelated note, I kept hearing glimpses of this song in a certain, frothy, commercial; and had to seek it out.  After hearing it, I feel it's the perfect song to kick off the adventure that is twentyeleven.

Enjoy!

  This past year, for me at least, has been all about uncovering my resolve; about not being deterred by the waves and peaks of frustration, imperfection, and failure that try to drown and drop our goals and dreams.

  However, in 2011, my ultimate goal is to be and become a man of action.

  I've always been a thinker, a planner- sometimes to a fault.  That being said, in many cases, the simple organization of everything is half the fun of any undertaking- at least for me.  And while such consideration can be useful and commendable, any plan is only as good as its execution.  

  Throughout history, those who've acted without a plan have always proved more successful, more effective, and more affective than those who simply dealt in theory.

  Personally, professionally, for me, the time for planning is over.  I've made the strides over the previous year to learn how to take a punch and stay in the fight; now I must learn how to throw one back and win the damn thing.

With that said, cheers to the new year, cheers to taking the offensive, and cheers to my fellow men and women of action.  I'll catch you on the flip-side. 

  Starting with 2010, I've taken the idea of several friends of mine and began establishing an actual list (aptly named "The List") of milestones, tasks, goals, and adventures to accomplish, complete, meet, and take in the twelve months ahead.

  In 2010, I unfortunately hadn't been able to cross off many of the things on my list- sometimes out of laziness; and, for better or worse, sometimes out of circumstance.

  However, one thing that I will have been able to accomplish this year, God-willing and time-permitting, is writing 52 blog entries for 52 weeks.  

  I'm not quite sure how I got up to so many, I certainly don't remember writing them all; but I'm proud to say that I have nonetheless.

  Maintaining this blog for the past year has been an adventure in itself.  I had set out to make a blog that would journal all of the musical achievements I would make in 2010; with a few random, useful ideas and concepts; and the occasional bit of introspection.

  Oddly enough for a musician's blog, very little music has made its way onto the pages of this site.  Instead, this blog and this site has become a terminal for my personal reflection and the occasional outlet for my creative juices.

  Additionally, while I had originally intended to write one entry per week, as you may or may not know, that didn't happen either.  I've been late and/or have fallen behind more than once this year; but I've always somehow managed to catch up and get back on track.

  I suppose that's what "resolve" is all about- taking your licks and trucking on.  There has been many a time, especially when I first broke my "entry-a-week" streak, that I simply wanted to be done with it altogether.  I was writing still; but the quality of it was, and to this day still sort of is, questionable to me.  Furthermore, I was starting to write simply because I had to, not because I was inspired or compelled to.  Then again, I guess that makes the case for "resolve" once more.  Even when I had no desire or drive to, even when it had become imperfect, I stayed true to the commitment I had made.

  Looking back, as glad as I am to have seen at least this one item on the list through to the end, my only real hope is that you, my gracious reader and friend, have found something useful or enlightening along the way.  While the topics and elements of each entry have come from my own life experiences- this was never intended to be a journal for me; it was meant to be a collection of food for thought and "cautionary tales," if you will, for you.

  I don't know if I'm going to continue maintaing this blog into the new year and beyond; and if I do, to what capacity and frequency.  If I do decide to keep it going, I'll be sure to include much more music, and much more "useful" ideas.  With any luck, I won't be able to, or have to, run over the same old ground that I have with this year's entries.

  In any case, thank you so much for reading all of the entries for this past and inaugural year.  Your support, comments, and compliments have meant more than I can ever express on paper or on screen.

  Again, from the bottom of my heart...Thank you.

Adrienne tightened her grip on the purse strap that rested on her shoulder.  She teetered on the tips of her toes trying to look over and around the droves of people being herded out of the gate.  She bit her lip as she waited and watched for his arrival.  She wiped the sweat of her palms on her jeans and tried to calm herself down as she saw a young boy, ten years old at most, run up and into the arms of his father to her left.  On her right, a young, female soldier carrying an enormous duffle bag walked up and embraced what appeared to be her mother, father, and older brother.  As she turned her eyes forward again, she saw Shane standing directly in front of her.  He gave her the same eyebrows-lifted, lips-tightened smile and half-wave he had for the past six years.  She mouthed the word “Hi,” and smiled back as big as she could.

 As he began to walk towards her, he couldn’t believe how nervous, how excited, he was.  He couldn’t remember for the life of him when he last felt that way.  Before he could even get halfway over to her, Adrienne started moving and accelerated right into his arms and into his lips.  It was electric.  He cupped her face in his hands and felt two, soft tears roll down each of his thumbs.  Before they could fully release, Adrienne pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms firmly around his waist.  As their lips let go, he put his arms around her shoulders and head, and nestled his cheek in her hair.  His lips still tingling, it finally hit him when he last felt so alive and in love.

 February 14^th, 2004, six years earlier- Shane’s eyes were wide in the darkened theater.  Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore were on the screen, saying something regarding pineapples; but he wasn’t paying attention- his gaze was fixed firmly on Adrienne’s lips.  His breathing quickly turned shallow as she turned her head and found him staring back at her.

 In that moment, he felt so scared and alone.  He was just a boy, after all.  Granted, he was a boy on the cusp of manhood, he was still a boy nonetheless.  He knew what he wanted his hands to do, his lips to do; but he simply couldn’t move.  He didn’t understand why he was so nervous, it’s not like she was some stranger.  They had met four months before at a church all-nighter for Halloween, and had been breaking the ice every day since, both online and with the random in-person encounter; and, as of last night, she was his girlfriend now- what did he have to be afraid of?

 “Everything,” he thought.  It took three hours of her coyly bumping her hand into his, and every ounce of courage he had within him, just to hold her hand that very afternoon- how was he supposed to manage this?  Forget that had never kissed a girl before, either.  He knew, painfully so, that he was in over his head.

 Adrienne couldn’t quite figure out what to do.  The look on Shane’s face as she gazed into his eyes could make a deer caught in headlights look like James Bond.  While she couldn’t confidently speak for him, she knew what she wanted in that moment and hoped heavily that he wanted the same.  As she felt the precipitation of the apprehensive heat that grew between the spaces of their interlocked fingers, she felt compelled to tell him that she was nervous too.  However, being as skittish as he was, if he was going to make his move, she didn’t want to rob him of making it on his own.

 Just then, Shane leaned in towards her.  Adrienne closed her eyes and, before she could even set her own in position, felt Shane’s pursed and trembling lips against her forehead.

 “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Shane thought to himself, disappointed and discouraged, as moved away from her slowly.  He had let his fear and inexperience get the best of him; but before he could get too far from her, he stopped himself. 

 How many times had he lost the girl because he was “too afraid” or “too nice”?  How man times was he going to KEEP losing the girl because of it?

 Shane looked into Adrienne’s eyes and became flush with courage and determination.  This girl, and everything they had built since they first met, meant so much to him.  If he was going to lose her, it wasn’t going to be to himself.  No, things were going to be different this time.  He was going to be different this time.  He was going to be what he wanted, and what he believed she deserved- a man.

 Shane leaned in once more; but this time his aim, and his resolve, was true.  His lips met hers and a charge, a bolt, shot through every bone, every nerve, every cell in his body.

 The smooth contour of his lips, and the warmth of his breath behind them, spun Adrienne into another dimension.  She fell hard into the moment and knew, without a doubt, she had never felt more at home.

 The gentle “pop” of their kiss came as their lips slowly and unwillingly pulled away.  The credits rolled on the screen.  There was applause.

 That night, as Shane crossed out over Chapman from Ninth Street; strolled into his house; shot straight for his room; and freefell into his bed, his lips were still tingling. 

 As Adrienne quietly opened her front door; walked over to the living room and hugged her father “hello;” inconspicuously floated into her room; and spun onto her bed, her lips were still tingling as well. 

 The taste, the trust, the magic of what they were together still lingered on their tongues and was branded forever in their minds.  Even still, they couldn't quite comprehend what kind of fire they had set in each other's hearts that night; but six years later it was still ablaze, and still burned just as brightly as it had then. This, for lack of -and lack of a need of- a better word, was love.

 Back at the airport in New Haven, the two were wrapped still in each other’s embrace.  Being nearly a foot shorter than Shane, Adrienne felt warm and safe in his arms; and it was in his arms that she was reminded that though she was nearly 3,000 miles away from their apartment, she was home.  Home, after all, wasn’t a place- it was him.

 Shane looked down at Adrienne and found her smiling up at him with her big, brown eyes.  They were so open and reflective he could see the skylights in them; he could see himself in them.  He wasn’t quite sure what made him happier- seeing how much love for him was in her expression, or knowing that seeing him could command such an expression.  Either way, he knew that the six weeks they had spent apart prior to this moment was going to be the first and last time he would spend so long without her within arm’s reach.

 About two months later, they had found themselves at the beginning of their final year at California State University, Fullerton, and under the strings of bright, yellow lights that decorated the Irvine Spectrum. They had just seen a stand-up comedian showcase at The Improv Comedy Club; which was a ritual that was beginning to rival that of their greatest addiction- undertaking the dining art of shabu shabu at a local restaurant called Koji’s.  However, under the crisp, biting early-September air, they were well underway with their most favorite of pastimes- walking hand in hand.

 Shane looked down at their hands and laughed quietly to himself.  It was incredible how so much time had gone by so quickly, and how it seemed like only yesterday he couldn’t even formulate a sentence around this girl, and now talking with her was easier than breathing by himself.  His eyes traveled from their hands, up the sleeve of her pea coat, along her shoulder and finally on her perfectly-timed smile.  Her smile, no matter how many times he had seen it, was always a treat and a treasure for him.  In so many ways, she had grown into a strong and purposeful woman- the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she thought about things; but her smile…her smile was still a girl’s smile.

And not the smile of just any girl- but the first girl; the first girl he ever kissed, the first girl he ever loved, the first girl to have hope for him as a boy, and the first girl to have faith in him as a man.  He dwelled on that thought, and dwelled on her for a moment.  He knew what he had to do.

 The pair passed beneath a lane of trees not yet changed with the seasons.  “Whoops.  My shoe’s untied,” stopped Shane.  They took a seat on a nearby bench, and as Shane tied his laces, it reminded her of the every day that she and Shane had spent before and after school under the trees by the library.  They started and ended nearly all of sophomore and junior year that way- talking and laughing with the ducks that glided along the little pond beside the sidewalk.

 “We were built under the trees,” she thought peacefully to herself.  She turned back to Shane to see if he was finished tying his shoe.  He was; but he was now looking straight into her eyes, into her heart- with a star in his hand.

 Shane’s legs were trembling under the weight of the moment.  He had never been surer of anything in his life; but he couldn’t help but be filled with those good, old butterflies.  This time, however, he had the nerve- and he had the words.

 “Adrienne, one of the most wonderful things about having spent the past six and a half years with you has been all of the “firsts.”  You were the first girl I ever kissed.  We took our first trips to Palm Springs, to Las Vegas, to New York together.  Hell, we took our first trip to college together.  You were the first person to see the man that was waiting behind the scared, little boy I was.  You were the first girl I ever loved, and the last woman I’ll ever love; and as much as I know that, I know that I want you to be the only one I spend the rest of my life with.  So, Adrienne, will you marry me?”

 The shape and form of Shane sitting next to her, ring in hand, began to blur behind the tears that filled her eyes.  While, to some degree, their engagement was only a matter of time, this moment was easily a matter of the heart.  Without thought, without question, Adrienne replied, simply, “Yes.”

 Shane delicately placed the understated, but undeniably beautiful stone around Adrienne’s left, ring finger.  They stood, and, together, took their last steps as boyfriend and girlfriend, and their first steps towards husband and wife.

--For the future Mr. and Mrs. Dougherty - 07.02.11.

When you really think about it, a "day" is a powerful thing.

You can do a lot in a single day.

On any given day...

• You can say, "hello."


• You can say, "goodbye."


• You can look at your bank account and discover that you're poorer than you thought.


• You can arrive at your surprise birthday party and discover that you're richer than you thought.


• You can start needing to look for a car with more back seats.


• You can finally trade in for that two-seater.

• You can make your left, ring finger just a little heavier.


• You can make your left, ring finger just a little lighter.

• You can meet your new boss.


• You can welcome your successor.

• You can change the numbers on your mailbox.


• You can change the name on your driver's license.

• You can face a fear, and conquer it too.


• You can realize your wildest dream.


• You can find something you didn't even know you were looking for.


• You can throw away something you didn't know you needed.


• You can be the unintended catalyst for hope and resolve in a complete stranger.


• You can be the unintended catalyst for frustration and pain in someone you love.


• You can be, and do, anything you can imagine.

On any given day, you can be the change that you, and those around you, have been wanting and needing.  With a brand-new pack of 365 coming in a couple of weeks, you'll have plenty of opportunities to be as well.  Make the most of every single one.

For this week's entry, I decided to post a video of my newest song, "Ready".  I hope you enjoy the song and the lyrics enough to forgive the performance- I did it in one, quick and unorganized take hahahaha...ugh.  Anyway, thanks for watching, and enjoy! :)

P.S. As always, the lyrics are posted below the video.

Ready

I'm starting up
You're settling down
As he nightly sweeps your feet off the ground

And it's raining hard
On my windshield
'Cause the sky above me knows how it feels

To be forgiven
To be forgot
To know a memory is all you've got

So I speed up
And I shift gears
And try to get the hell out of here

'Cause I know now all that I have to give
And I know now all that you have to give

But I'm ready to be the hero
You always dreamed that I would be
I'm ready to take a chance on you, to take a chance on me
Yes, I'm ready to be the hero
You always needed me to be

But the only one who needs saving now is me

Your smile is wide
Across your face
As his words romance you with style, with grace

And I resolve
To let this go
But that's a better "me" than we both know

And I can't forgive me
I can't forget
Wishing all the while we had never met

So I speed up
'Cause I can see
That fate is finally catching up to me

But I know now all that I have to give
And I know now all that you have to give

But I'm ready to be the hero
You always dreamed that I would be
I'm ready to take a chance on you, to take a chance on me
Yes, I'm ready to be the hero
You always needed me to be

But the only one who needs saving now is me

And I'm so close to where you used to be
But I'm so far from where you are right now
And I'm hoping maybe, someday, you will see
That your place is standing next me

'Cause I'm ready to be the hero
You always dreamed that I would be
I'm ready to take a chance on you, to take a chance on me
I'm ready to be the hero
You always needed me to be

But the only one who needs saving now is me

So it's time I become the hero
You always dreamed that I would be
It's time that I keep driving now, and take a chance on me
'Cause I'm ready to be the hero
I always knew that I would be
Though the only one who needs saving now is me

And the only one who will save me now is me

  "So, what happened?"

  "I don't know.  They said it's being processed.  Not much I can do about it now, I guess.  They said it could come tomorrow, it could come in two weeks," she shrugged.

  My hopeful smile shrank a little into one of commiseration as I took her hand in mine with a gentle squeeze, and walked with her out of the building.

  As we made our way, her eyes and feet were forward, but I could see that her mind was scrambling in all directions.  What was she going to do?  What could she do?  Her courses and books were paid for, but on a card that was now $3.86 cents from its limit; and that was only because she had already used the $243 she had been saving up for the new work skirt and shoes she needed, and that weekend getaway to San Diego she needed even more, to help pay for the new brakes and power-steering unit that proved to be more pressing -though only slightly.  She didn't know if she'd ever have an answer; and she certainly didn't have it then.

  That night, as we brushed our teeth; locked the doors; and lay down to sleep, I kept wondering to myself, "What could I do?"  I didn't have much more than a penny to my own name, and even if I did, she had too much pride to ever take it from me.  I didn't have any options, and any words of comfort I could have managed to express were simply just not going to make this go away.  Had this been some isolated incident, perhaps I could have said something, or done something.  

  The thing is, it wasn't.  This was the norm for her.  Every time she would get close to the surface, to some breathing room, to getting something she had the slightest nerve to want for herself, chaos forced its unkind hand and moved it that much further out of reach.  Life was constantly asking so much of her, and giving so little in return.  Even in the dark, amongst the quiet, amongst the stillness, life couldn't seem to find it in itself to spare her a few hours without the questions of "Why," "How," and "When."  That night, we both lay awake until our hearts and our minds gave out.

  The next morning started with more of the same.  She had missed all three of her alarms and, in effect, missed the first run of the new exercise regiment she was trying to employ for herself.  She had loved running when she was younger, but had to give it up due to a bum ankle.  While she had hopes that her ankle had healed itself by now, she wasn't going to find out today; she just didn't have the time.  

  At that point, she hadn't just missed her workout, she was running late for work; so the luxury and somewhat restorative qualities of a hot shower against her back were out of the question as well.  She hurriedly threw a work shirt and her one good skirt in the dryer to get the wrinkles out, and advanced to the make-up-applying process.

  She made her way to the bathroom sink and, for a moment that seemed like forever, stopped and stared herself straight in the eyes.  She always had the most beautiful eyes.  Her irises were a bold and rich brown, like the first drops of coffee falling from the filter and splashing at the bottom of the pot.  The way they looked at you in the dim of the soft light, with the outer edges tilted slightly upward, would simultaneously tear you down and build you back up.  My heart would break every time I looked into her eyes.  I could see every dream that hadn't come true, every disappointment.  Yet at the same time, I could see undeniable promise; I could see hope. I could see every ounce of love she was ready and willing to give; and all she wanted in return was just someone, something to believe in.  And I always knew, as anyone would know looking into her eyes, I wanted to be that someone.  I never wanted anything more in my entire life.  Looking into her eyes was the sort of thing that gives rise to the hero that resides inside every 10 year-old boy that sees a 10 year-old girl in pain.  Her eyes were sobering.  They were inspiring.  

  But now, they were tired.  Puffy and red, the rims of her eyelids began to tremble.  There were no tears, but her eyes, her heart, were crying all the same.  She shook her head, and shook things off, and purposefully began applying her make-up.

  I approached her and leaned against the doorway with my well-meaning but universally-disheveled self.

  "Hey, you okay?  You need anything?"

  "I need to get out of here."

  While she could have been referring to running late for work, I knew she wasn't.  She didn't say it like she was.  She turned to me, having finished putting on her make-up, with a nervous smile.

  "I look so gross today.  More gross than usual, I mean.  Does my make-up look okay?"

  I got up from the wall, moved towards her, and framed her cheeks with my hands.  My eyes smiled into hers, and I gave her a single kiss on her forehead.

  "You look beautiful."

  She blushed a little.  Quite frankly, even with everything that was going on, it was nice to know that even after nearly five years, I could still make her blush.  It made me feel like perhaps all was not lost - not yet, anyway.

  We pulled up to the restaurant, and as she reached for the handle to let herself out of the car, she looked at me with a sigh and a smile.  She opened the door but was stopped by my hand in hers.  She looked down at our intertwined fingers, my thumb grazing the outside of her hand, and back to me.

  "It's gonna be alright," I promised.

  "I love you," she promised in return.  She gave my hand a gentle squeeze this time, and made her way out and around the front of the car.  I rolled down the window and yelled out to her as she hurried to the lobby doors.

  "Hey!"  She stopped and turned to me.  "I love you."  She turned back, and took those words to work with her.  I prayed they'd be enough to get her through.

  As I drove back over to the restaurant later that day to pick her up, I saw her standing outside from a distance, waiting for me.  As she began growing in the windshield, I couldn't quite make out the expression on her face.  It wasn't anger, and it certainly wasn't happiness.  It wasn't even sadness, really.  It was something worse.

  Once I had reached her position, I stopped, and she made her way around the front of the car to the passenger door - eyes down the entire time.  She got in and buckled up, and I began rolling through the parking lot.  I approached her with caution.

  "Hey, sweetheart."

  "Hi."

  "How was work?"

  She took both a moment and a deep breath.  "Fine," she said.

  "You hungry?"

  "No.  I just want to go home."

  We were still in the parking lot, so I pulled into the first available spot and turned off the car.  I turned to her, took her hand, and said, "Talk to me."  She grasped my hand in return, tightly, as her breathing became increasingly shallow.

  "I'm just so tired."

  "Tired...of what?"

  "Of everything!  I'm tired of all of this money crap! I'm tired of this stupid job!  I'm tired of standing at that stupid desk and waiting for hours at a time for some old jerk to show up and treat me like an idiot because he has to wait more than 45 seconds to be seated!  I'm tired of not being able to get my old hours back, but being scheduled on Christmas Eve!  I'm tired of having half of my paycheck go to pay rent on a place that has termites and a hole in the ceiling!  I'm tired of having BOTH of my credit cards maxed out!  I'm tired of having to pay for cars that can't go a week without ending up in the shop!  I'm tired of always having to get what I want last!  I'm tired of feeling guilty about being tired about always having to get what I want last!  I'm tired of being so exhausted, I can't sleep!  I'm tired of stressing out about money, about school, about work!  I'm tired of spending so much time and so much energy on everything and having nothing to show for it!  I'm just...I'm just so tired."

  We sat in silence for what seemed like ages, the heat of the falling sun weighing heavy on us.  Though joined at the hand, there were fewer times I felt further from her.  As much as I wanted to comfort her in some way, any way, I couldn't help but be consumed by my own anger, my own frustration.  The way she was feeling in that moment- she didn't deserve it, not in the least.  Everyday, this young woman was giving everything she had, practically literally, to her family; her friends; and to me.  She was always the first one to sacrifice, to make concessions.  She was always getting let down by the prospect that tomorrow was going to be better, that tomorrow was going to be worth it.  She was always taking life on the chin, and pressing forward because it's what she needed to do for herself and for the people she loved.  And what did she get for all of her struggle, for all of her sacrifice, for all of her love?  What did she get for being as wonderful and holistically beautiful as she was?  Debt, a job she hates, a school she has no distinguishable desire or need for, and a boyfriend who, in her time of need, though she never asks anything of him, couldn't even muster a single sentence of consolation outside of "I'm sorry."

  "I'm sorry," I let out.  I was so disappointed in myself, in everything, my stomach was sick.  She looked up and followed the dust that made its way in front of her.

  "Don't be.  It's not your fault.  I'M sorry."

  "For what?"

  "For complaining about all of this.  It's so stupid.  I'm so lame."

  "You're not lame."

  "I guess.  I haven't even asked you - how was your day?"

  With everything going on in her head and in her heart, she was asking me how my day was.  I could have married her right then and there.

  "It was okay."

  "Just okay?"

  "It was good.  Look, I haven't eaten yet today, have you?"

  "I ordered a burger from the kitchen, but it came out "medium."  I tried eating it, but it just made me sick."

  For my sanity's sake, I pretended not to hear that.

  "Well, why don't we get some food, go home, eat, relax, and then we can talk, and try to figure all of this out, okay?"

  She looked at me, and the way she raised her eyebrows and nodded, I could tell she knew I was grasping at straws.

  "Okay," she said.

  We came home, fast food in hand, to a full house.  Her two sisters, her kid brother, and baby niece were all sitting in the living room, blasting some show on Nickelodeon while the little one threw every LEGO piece known to man around the room and on the floor.  For privacy, but mostly for some quiet, we settled down in a small room in the alcove to the left of the living room.  There were chairs and a table, but she elected to sit on the floor.  I opened the white, paper bag, and a combination of piping hot air and the fragrance of salt on deep-fried potato filled the space.  I began feeling almost ravenous - not so much for the food, but for the comfort the food would bring to me and, more importantly, to her.  I peered down and saw two orders of fries,  a cheeseburger, and a chicken sandwich - perfection.  I pulled out the sandwich and handed it over to her.  She made no haste, and unassumingly opened its brown, cardboard box.  As I began removing the other items from the bag, I looked to her and caught a glimpse of disappointment in her face.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, stopping what I was doing.

  "Nothing."

  "No, c'mon, what's the matter?"

  "They put mayonnaise on it."

  "What?"

  "I guess they didn't hear you or something.  There's mayonnaise on it."

  I couldn't believe it.  I was going to kill another human being over a chicken sandwich.  I could not believe that life would not let her enjoy a God-damned chicken sandwich the way she ordered it.

  "Are you serious?" I exclaimed.  "I'll be back." I started to get up.

  "No, it's okay.  Don't worry about."

  "No! I specifically asked...I'm just going to ask them to fix it..."

  "It's really okay..."

  "No it's not! It's not okay!  I'm going over-"  

  She grabbed my hand.

  "Just stay with me. Please?"

  I was breathing hard, but I was trying to calm down for her.  Just then, her little brother stepped into the doorway.

  "Did you guys get food?" He asked, diffidently.

  "Mhm," she replied.

  "...Did you get me anything?"

  She looked to me with a guilty glance.  "Um...," she started as she looked down into the bag, and pulled out one of the orders of fries.  "Here!  We got you fries."  He quietly, but appreciatively, took them from her hand.  "What do you say?"

  "Thank you," he managed, in between crunches as he left the room.  I looked at her frustrated, but she just shrugged.

  "I'm not really hungry anyway.  Besides, we can share, yeah?"  

  My teeth were clenched so hard I could feel a pain in my neck.  In the whole scheme of things, the sandwich, the fries, none of it really mattered; but the fact that she could have the misfortune that she had always had, and still be as unbelievable as she had just been killed me.  I didn't understand why things had to be so bad for someone so wonderful.  I didn't want to understand why.  It didn't matter.  It was unfair, unjust, and that was enough to make me want to scream; to make me want to cry.  She deserved so much better.  She deserved more than the world would give, and more than I could give.  There was nothing I could do to make things right, and I knew in that moment that making things right for her was the only reason I existed.

  "Of course," I devoted to her, with the most earnest smile I could muster.

  We heard the front door open and close in the other room, and heard her mother greeting and being greeted by her brother and sisters.  She came around to the alcove, and saw us sitting in the room on the floor.

  "Hey guys," she said, looking only slightly puzzled.

  "Hi."

  "Hey, mom."

  "Just wanted to let you know, you got something in the mail."

  Her mother pulled out an envelope from her purse, handed it to her, and went on her way.  She looked down and saw her school address in the top, left corner.  She turned the envelope around, gently opened the seal, and pulled out the white, three-fold paper.  She read a few lines, and looked up at me, as I hovered over her shoulder.  She handed it over to me so I could see for myself.  It had come in.  Her financial aid check had come in.  Right then, I took her in my arms and held her tightly with her head against my chest, against my heart; as she wrapped her arms firmly around my waist.  We stayed like that for a minute, gently swaying in each other's embrace, and then I looked down at her, and she, up at me.  She was crying.  Then, she smiled.

  The thing was, as much happiness as that one little letter brought us, it didn't stand to change much.  It didn't offer her a new job, or the address of a new home to live in.  It wasn't going to make the cars any more dependable, or the customers any less rude.  Financially, it wasn't even going to put her back at zero.  Still, it was something; and she desperately needed something.

  Truth be told, her happiness had little to do with the actual money.  She needed to win one.  She deserved to win one.  And with that little victory, she didn't find an answer; but she found some hope.

  In this world and in this life, with the big ones so few and far between, it's the little victories that sustain us.  It's the little victories that heal us, like a bandage for the soul.  It's the little victories that decorate our histories, and remind us that the war is far from over, and is still within our grasp.  

  And because of her, and seeing how much a moment like that could do for a heart like hers, it's the little victories that I hold so dear.