Ch…Ch…Ch…Ch…Changes

Does anyone remember Taco Bell’s slogan in the mid 90′s? No, I’m not talking about the Chihuahua that said, “Yo Quiero Taco Bell!” I’m talking about the slogan that brought in the new millennium, “Change is good!” Of course, they were speaking of actual change you receive when buying a meal: an 89 cent mystery meat burrito, paying for it with $1, adding MD sales tax, and receiving 5 cents back in change.

For the purpose of this post, I’m speaking of actual change; physically and emotionally. And change is good…I think.

I’ve changed dramatically since high school. I’m a completely different person, for the better (depending on who you ask). To help you understand my process of change, I broke it down to one sentence: I turned and faced the strange. Now, to further help you understand my process of change, here’s a summary:

High School – I entered 9th grade at Great Mills with a chip on my shoulder, as did every other freshman you encountered at a new school. In order to “fit in” at the high school level, there was a certain order to things; a flow of daily attitudes. You had to dress the part, speak the part, and act the part of the majority at your school. You had to blend into your surroundings in order to be accepted amongst your peers. That’s exactly what I did, and this may sound conceited, but I did it well.

Baggy jeans, logotype clothing, Air Force 1′s (they were popular at my high school), playing sports, listening to rap, trying to rap, tall tees, straight brimmed hats with cool designs, cell phones, and to steal from the Latin expression, et cetera. In my eyes, that’s what everyone at Great Mills was wearing. And I knew that if I wanted to hit it off immediately with people in high school, I needed to play the part.

So I did. I did it every year until I graduated. If there was a new CD by Lil’ Wayne, I bought it. Jay-Z? You better believe it! I bought into it and loved it. Everyone around me bought into it, and they loved it. Most of us were just a product of what our school made us, what our friends made us. There was a lucky few that were already individuals, travelling down their own path they paved themselves early on in high school.

I wanted to be like my friends, I wanted to impress them with my clothing and musical taste. I wanted to be accepted because that’s what the movies taught me. And the only way to do that was to act and be like everyone else. It worked for a while, until I graduated and fell off of the earth socially.

Junior College – One of my best friends joined the military almost immediately out of high school. I didn’t have a future planned, so I decided to attend a community college with my then girlfriend, now wife, Melissa. The influences of my friends from high school were gone. Every person I talked to in high school seemed to go their own way after graduating. It was just Melissa and I (it seemed like) in community college. We grew very close during this time because she could tell how much I needed a friend. I felt alienated for a few months, a little lonely on the inside. There I was, this fresh high school graduate with no future planned, once popular and very social, now distant and reserved from anyone and everyone.

College – Mel and I transferred to a university after two years at CSM. I wanted to follow Mel wherever she went. It was at this time, just before transferring to Towson, that I realized I wanted to marry her. So I asked for her hand in marriage, she accepted and I was reassured knowing that I would always have a friend, no matter what happens on the road ahead.

I carried the same socially awkward attitude through Towson. I didn’t want to make friends because I didn’t feel a need to. I had a few friends surrounding me from high school, I was in touch with my best pal, and I was fit with what I had. I continued to steer away from associating with the people I once adored in high school. Why?

In all honesty, I had this selfish opinion that if they wanted to get in touch with me, they would! However, being clouded by my selfishness, I did not allow anyone an access point of contact. Facebook became ever so popular, EVERYONE from high school, the people I loved, had great times with, and absolutely admired were on there. The same people I pushed away for a few years after high school! It was the perfect place for me to keep in touch with everyone, to see how they were doing and to reminisce about all of the great times we had in high school. What a crazy thing to do, boycotting Facebook!

Wedding – After graduating college, the most important day of my life was quickly approaching. The planning process was brutal, especially while Mel and I created the guest list. We got to the friends section of the list and Mel started naming numerous people from high school that she wanted to invite. Name after name popped up and I realized that I haven’t spoken to these people in ages. It amazed me that I didn’t talk to these people. I felt awkward being in my own body, cornered by the thought of me being so anti-social.

I was never anti-social in high school. I talked to everyone and enjoyed it. I enjoyed company. I enjoyed people. Now it seems, or people think I’m the complete opposite. And I play that part, for what reason I have yet to figure out. Maybe it’s because I developed thoughts in my head that were untrue, thoughts that I created to tell myself people from high school just don’t want to talk anymore.

But it was me the entire time. I’m the one who pushed everyone away, not the opposite. It came to fruition on the night of our wedding, when everyone seemed so happy for Melissa and me. We were surrounded by dear friends and it was a magical evening.

Thank you friends. Thank you for caring about Melissa and I. Thank you for still wanting to talk to me after I’ve pushed you away for so long. And, from the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

I look forward to the days when we can reminisce and discuss how crazy we were and how much we’ve changed since then; you know….Things of that nature.

Until then, I’m proud to share my deepest, most inner thoughts with you. I embraced the change, invited it into my Ferrari life. I took it for a spin around my head, went through the drive-thru, shared a burger with it, brought it back home to meet the family, got mad at it and broke up, ultimately taking it back, and never regretting the day we met.

Change is good!

Regards – RJ

The Smell of that Smell

This is one of my favorite albums, featuring songs such as Blackbird, Rocky Raccoon and Helter Sketler.

I’m not a big fan of Lynyrd Skynyrd, but the song That Smell perfectly describes the sensation I get when I pull out a vinyl record, hold it up to my nose and take a deep breath. It feels like I boarded a time machine and I’m in the studio with THE best band ever (no argument).

“What’s that John? I’m the lead on this song, not you! Follow my lead. 1, 2, 3, FOUR…” I digress.

It’s an indescribable smell, that of a vinyl record. If we could describe the smell of history (other than musky), this would be the starting point. It’s an undeniable high pulling out what many call The White Album, playing the flip side, rocking out to Helter Skelter. I get so giddy, like a girl with her first crush, or a boy at his first baseball game. It takes me back to a time when I didn’t exist and allows me to feel as if I were there, getting blisters on my fingers too.

Who wouldn’t enjoy an evening of spinning Fleetwood Mac, Jimi Hendrix or The Beatles? Melting wax in a sensational experience unrivaled by any other feeling in the world. Have you ever stared at the cover of Electric Lady Land, with its burning orange image of Hendrix, playing side 1 as he belts out Crosstown Traffic? Not many people my age have, and they have no idea what they are missing!

Any person can drive to JC Penny’s, buy a Hendrix shirt from the graphic-tee section, get back in their car, drive to Target, pick up Hendrix’s Greatest Hits on a compact disc, get back into their car, open the package, listen to all of the #1 hits (according to amount of play) and claim to be a Hendrix fan!!! Did I mention most of the CD’s today are digitally re-mastered? Which makes it even better for that true classic rock fan?!?!?!?!

WRONG!

Music that was released on vinyl was arranged and orchestrated with the format in mind. Artists knew the format their music would be recorded on, and they used it to their advantage! I’m 100% sure that Hendrix did not want his signature guitar sound re-mastered for pop-pleasure. Feedback my friend, it was the ultimate weapon of some of the greats. Helter Skelter was written, recorded and produced for a record player, period.

It was a little bit of a disappointment for me when I saw Paul McCartney perform Helter Skelter live two years ago. I had a double take to make sure the Jonas Brothers weren’t on stage (sorry Mel, I went there)! It sounded perfect, like it was made by a giant record label and forced down the throats of everyone at the concert. That’s not what it’s supposed to sound like, according to the record I listen to!

Why couldn’t an amplifier blow a fuse? Or the lead guitar is tuned a step down from going crazy on the stage? Don’t get me wrong, the show was amazing, but the joy I feel when listening to Helter Skelter on my record player just wasn’t there!

My 3-speed Jensen turntable is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received. My father passed down all of his vinyl records to me in a ceremonial jam session. We rocked out to AC/DC, the Nuge, Steve Miller Band and other classic rockers from the past. My collection started at roughly 30, and has grown to over 100.

I am proud of my collection. I am proud to be a supporter of listening to all of the classic rock songs from a decade where music ruled the world (or the rebellious children did). I like being that guy that wears a Hendrix shirt for all of the right reasons, not for the stares it generates from the masses.

Teenagers today just don’t get it. We all know the real reason teenagers are walking around with Beatles shirts, Hendrix shirts, Zeppelin, etc; it’s because they want people to think they are in the know of good music. They want people to look at them and think, “Man, they must really like Led Zeppelin!” When the truth is, they couldn’t even tell you 10 words to Stairway to Heaven, not the album or even a member. Nothing! They are clueless. They go home at night, remove their shirts and fall asleep humming the latest Justin Bieber song (sorry again Mel). It’s a travesty!

It pains me to know that these children will never know what it’s like to smell a vinyl record. Call me weird, but I love that smell. No CD could ever have the same smell, and no matter how hard Apple tries, advertising that the Beatles are now on iTunes will never have the same effect of unwrapping the shrink-wrap from a 33, taking it out of the sleeve and spinning it on your record player for the first time.

Music died with the advancement of technology, making every artist perfect! It’s impossible not to be when they talk into a microphone and their voice is warped with auto tune, wrapped in glitter and gold with an electronic drum, guitar, bass and every other instrument under the sun, and delivered to us droids through “too advanced for its own good” technology; you know, things of that nature!

Regards – RJ

Becoming a Man

 There are many words and expressions that define a true man in today’s society. To me, the main ingredient in the manly man recipe is facial hair. A beard or mustache! The final test in becoming a man. The absolute definition.

My affinity for facial hair began at a young age and quickly grew into an obsession. My father wore a mustache for most of my childhood, through my formative years and into my adult life. He grooms it, maintains it and wears it like a true grizzly mountain man.

As a kid, I would always picture him as Paul Bunyan, walking into our cluttered kitchen to a tall stack of pancakes and hot maple syrup. He would sit at the kitchen table with his red flannel shirt, wearing his wheat, steel-toed boots for a day with his trusty axe and blue ox. And there it sat on top of his lip, this glorious nose-a-pillar. What a sight!

As I grew older, I strived to achieve the same status as my father in the category of men. At 13, I had dark whiskers protruding from my upper lip. At 15, they were even thicker. I was one of the only kids in middle school and early high school who had the honor of wearing a mustache. It was an invigorating feeling, one that will not soon be forgotten. 

At 18, I let the sideburns grow and made an attempt with all of my might to push out a beard. It was a task handed to me by the Gods of facial hair, Beardalitus and Mustachetitus. After 6 months of continuous growth, no shaving or trimming, I had the sloppiest and thickest beard a man could ask for. Glory!

Turning 18 is one thing, a point in a person’s life when they cross over into adulthood. However, for a person with male counterparts, you’re never truly a man until you’ve had the pleasure of wearing a mustache or a beard. I, at the age of 18 and 6 months, had officially crossed into manhood.

When I transferred from junior college to a university, I grew another beard, this time with a clean-shaven neck-line. At the time, I thought my beard would separate me from the “average” college puke and allow my peers to view me in a different light. I wanted people to realize that just because a man walks around with a beard, does not mean he is a social outcast or a waste of air. It’s the exact opposite. A man with facial hair is confident in himself and his look, which he wants to show to the world through his facial hair status. The outcast status I achieved was from mere judgment, not my beard.

It’s true you know? Scientists have done numerous studies and created a formula for the facial hair conundrum: Facial Hair + Man = Awesome. They’ve also done studies for ladies with facial hair. But due to the social constraints and images that represent women on TV and in movies, the result of the study has the opposite effect: Facial Hair + Woman = Yikes!

It’s that simple, cut and dry, no way around it.

In my life (love that Beatles song), I have gone from a clean-shaven face (boring), a super-cool mustache (awesome), a Sasquatch beard (too cool for society), a beard with a clean-shaven neck (society likes this one) to everything in between.

Which brings me to where I am at this current moment; sitting in front of my computer screen, addressing the masses as I move my index finger and thumb across my full and thick mustache. I feel older, smarter and confident that this piece of facial hair asks for respect from every individual I encounter. Some like it, some hate it, but everyone respects it.

Luckily for me, I have the credentials to back it up; vinyl records, a cigar holder, flask, a leg lamp and many leather-bound encyclopedias. You know, things of that nature!

Regards – RJ

The Purpose

I’m not 100% sure why I’m starting this blog. What a great way to start my first entry! I can hear all of your thoughts now, “Why does he want us to read his blog if he has no idea what he’s talking about?”

Funny story, majority of the time I don’t know what I’m talking about. I like to think I do, but I am surrounded by great people in my life who call my bluff. To them, I owe a thank you…I think?

I want to blog about things going on in my life, thoughts that I’m having at any given moment and things of that nature (hence the title). With that said, I will begin my first entry with a story about Valentine’s Day:

I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day. If Charles Dickens magically came back to life for three months, wrote a sequel to “A Christmas Carol” titled “Valentine’s Delight,” I would be a great model character for the February Scrooge. Not because I don’t have a caring heart, but rather the day has been wrapped up with red paper, packaged with hearts and sealed with a kiss from Hallmark!

I don’t need one day out of the 364 other days to tell my wife that I love her. I’m sure many other people think the same thing. Why shower your loved one with gifts ONE day out of many? Are you telling them they really matter on 2/14, but aren’t as important on 2/15? What about in June? Does your significant other matter then?

Call me a soul-less, black-hearted individual, but the hoopla surrounding 2/14 is ludicrous (no offense to the actual rapper, who TI dissed in a song once, which resulted in Ludicrous dissing him in retaliation).

On that note, I bought my wife a beautiful charm bracelet that she has been eyeing for several months. I also created a jar full of 321 love notes that she can open every morning until the end of the year! Hypocritical? Not exactly.

I tell my wife I love her every day, treat her to dinner some evenings, make dinner other evenings, watch the TV shows she loves, clean the house, do the dishes, laundry and actually listen to her when she talks to me; things of that nature. I just happened to give her that bracelet and jar of notes on Valentine’s Day

Regards -RJ