Old is new is old is new again...

With gadgetry changing so quickly these days, how do we put ourselves at the head of the curve?

I have recently been given some amazing information for newspaper/media jobs. After doing a little research, I realized how quickly things are changing in this world.

I was a communications major in college. There, I learned the rules for formatting and style. I learned that even though you were expected to use your imagination, you had to color inside the lines. That was in the late 1980's.

Nearly 20 years ago.

Today, I was reading about how to apply for a newspaper job. And there was still the formatting and style questions. The same ones that were asked 20 years ago.

So I began to wonder how newspapers could really stay in business. With CNN, MSN, the internet, PDAs and such, how many people actually read the newspaper these days?

As a result of this realization, I decided to blog instead. My blog has no rules, no lines to color inside, and no boxes to think within. I can be as creative as I want, I can say what I want, and I can potentially reach a larger audience than any newspaper.

Except I don't get paid for this, and for all I know, I have an audience of five people... or less.

So the question still remains... as a writer who doesn't like to color within the lines, and doesn't appreciate the sensationalism of Paris Hilton, or preying on people who just had something shitty happen to them... is there a future in writing in a print publication?

Maybe it's time to seriously start looking back into my old dream of travel writing...

Spiffy Smithing...

Tragically, magically
I saw it on TV
Drastically, spastically
I wondered, could it be?

Darkly, sparkly
The moon had turned blue
Mystically, statistically
I turned my thoughts to you

Purely, demurely
You burned in my mind
Lovely, above me
Magically inclined.

We are here
And we are now
It's just like this
And that is how

It will be
For time plus one
Because right now
This is done.

Being (Like) Ernest...

A sweet summer breeze gently blew through my window.
I sat, squinting in front of my laptop,
Looking for a word that rhymed with "silver".
I often wrote my own obituary,
It always had the same ending, but everything before it was different...

My favorite was the one where I lived the final 40 years of my life
In Ernest Hemingway's haunted mansion in Key West.
It always brought me visions of me and Ernie talking about how humorous it was to be famous.
Because, after all, to live in Ernie's mansion, I'd have to be famous, too.

Yes, it's a sick thing to write your own obituary,
But who else would appreciate the nuances of your life
More than you?

How do you know when you've achieved your lot in life?

When I wrote "Cancerboy", I felt like I accomplished the thing that I was meant to accomplish in my life. Since I am still alive, it's obvious that "Cancerboy" wasn't my sole purpose.

Tonight, I re-watched "What the Bleep Do We Know?" - a phenomenal movie about quantum physics - and it's got me in a rare mood.

This week was an interesting week. A friend of mine had an incredibly rough week - a beloved uncle died, followed by her grandmother. This friend and I had a disagreement the week before, and hardly spoke to each other since. Just last night I learned about the uncle dying, and I feel terrible.

It's things like these that help us realize what is important in life and what isn't. Is it more important to hold on to what you think is right at the moment, or to nurture your relationships?

We had a scare this week with my brother. He's still undergoing tests, so we're still not exactly sure what's going on with his body, but - again - it's times like this when you ask yourself if your concern is claustrophobic, too little or coincidental. Having gone through cancer, I know that it's always good to know that people are thinking about you, so that's the route I've decided to take.

Last night after we had a successful night at darts (12-3 for those scoring at home), Sheryl and I were watching "Most Haunted" on the Travel Channel (I LOVE that show!!) - when all of a sudden, there was a huge BOOM!! We freaked out, immediately hoping nothing happened to my house, garage, or the neighbors.

I checked outside, seeing nothing. My neighbor appeared, checking things out as well. I was pissing cold rain, and neither one of us saw any damage. So we went out to the back yards, where I noticed a plume of smoke in the near distance. My neighbor said he was going to try and find where it was coming from, and I invited myself along. Soon enough, we found the culprit - as did the cops and firemen - a garage in our neighborhood had exploded and was on fire. I just hope no one got hurt...

So if there is anything to learn about this week, perhaps it's to be true to yourself... particularly when it comes to loving one another.

And to not blow ourselves up.

The future is ours to create, so let's make it better than good, okay?

We drank Irish coffee to keep the cold outside.
Bundled to our noses in our blankets,
We sat on the couch, sharing stories of our youth -
When we were young,
When we were indestructible,
When we had the world by the balls.

The phone ringer was off
The doorbell disconected
The only distraction was the tasty jolt of caffeine.

I met her at the Church of Barmixology -
She experienced the magnificent enlightenment of absinthe
While I extolled the praises of tequila.

That night, I later found out, we both worshipped the porcelain god on different ends of the street.

And here we were, weeks later, listening to Bob Dylan on vinyl.
Each pop, each scratch, prodding memories -
Memories to share.
Memories to hear.
Memories to make.

She left at 2pm as the sun appeared and warmed the house,
Melting snow from the roof, dripping from icicles.
As she stepped out the door to walk the six driveways to her house,
I felt as if we were on the verge of something amazing.

I just got off the phone with her -
I finally got up the nerve to ask her out.
She agreed, telling me that the other day,
As she stepped out the door to walk the six driveways to her house,
She felt as if we were on the verge of something amazing.

Feisty...

Although my credit score is crashing faster than stocks on Black Friday, I'm feeling kinda feisty today.

I've arranged for two interviews on Monday and a couple of others seem to be just below the horizon, on their way up. Could it be - Good things coming my way?!?! Whoo-hoo!

As such, I thought I'd pass along some of the music I've been trying to catch up on lately. During my walks, I've been listening to Tao te Ching (as I mentioned before) and The Art of War (GW obviously spent too much time partying and not enough time reading!). That's fine and dandy, but I can't get enough of my iPod and am always looking for new tunes.

My favorite newly discovered music by far is Goldfrapp. Allison Goldfrapp's music is cutting edge electronica mixed with her beautiful voice, wrapped up in a catchy tune. Ah, but don't get fooled. The catchy electronic stuff is contained in her last two albums - Black Cherry and Supernature . She has another album called Felt Mountain , which contains mostly vocal acrobatics drifting across less appealing music.

Alec Empire has released a couple of hardcore DJ/electronic CDs in the vein of old, old Nine Inch Nails. While NIN has lost their bite, Alec has definitely sharpened his.

Today, I am giving The Campfire Headphase by the Boards of Canada a try. So far, it seems pretty cool in a lazy dreamy rainy day sort of way. Speaking of dreams, Sheryl and I will be selling DVDs of the dreams I've had this week. You know, the ones where we met Lance Armstrong, the President of the Czech Republic and Jerome (The Bus) Bettis...

I digress... anyway, other music I will be giving a listen to in the near future: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, Spoon's "Gimme Fiction", Electric Six' "Senor Smoke" (includes a cover of Queen's Radio GaGa) and the Strokes' "First Impressions of Earth".

I used to rely on Detroit's public radio station, WDET, for new music worth listening to. However, they f'ed up the programming, and none of those new music shows are available as they were for the last 20 years or so. Now I know why those classical music purists whined so much when the clasic radio station here went kaput.

Don't get me wrong, I think that we need more groups out there that sound like Pearl Jam and Nickelback. We need more boy bands and sugar pop music. We need more rappers talking up the bling bling. After all, without all those unoriginal wannabe's, we can be manipulated easier. Who needs to think? Who needs creativity?

Come to think of it, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain... or the new music I mentioned. Let's just grab a Happy Meal at McDonald's and play with our free plastic Disney movie toys.

I warned you that I was feeling feisty!

One of these days, it'll all make perfect sense...

True - so far - to one of my 2006 goals, I've been on the move... working out, walking and starting some tai chi.

I've actually been doing tai chi on and off for about 10 years - but I learned from a video, and I was interested to see how "real" training occurs. So the opportunity became available, and Sheryl and I jumped. Not literally, mind you.

Yesterday's first class showed us essentially one move, and already it is different from the version I learned on video. The class we're taking for the next two months will take us through the first 16 moves... the first 16 of 103...

For years I've been incorporating Eastern philosophies into my Catholic upbringing. I have studied different beliefs in order to better understand the world and people in general.

So for my walks, I've downloaded a couple of books for my iPod. Yesterday, ironically, I finished the first book - The Tao te Ching, a classic book on taoism... which is generally practiced by those who perform tai chi.

After listening to the Tao te Ching for the first time, though, I wasn't sure about my original belief of Taoism - that the potentiality of "the uncarved block" was all it was cracked up to be.

In fact, I think I even muttered out loud - "huh??"

It's obvious that I'll have to give it another listen. Next on the listening list, though, is Sun-Tzu's "Art of War".

Gotta Love George...

Today I was leafing through the Eastern Michigan University alumni magazine - it's something I don't spend much time on. It seems that just because I busted my ass and graduated from there, that I should feel priviledged to give them some money. Let's not forget the more than $20,000 I already gave them, which has led to my spectacular meteoric rise and equally meteoric fall in the job market. Let's not forget that when I released "Cancerboy", I e-mailed the alumni association to see if they could help me advertise the book around campus. Their response?

There was no response!

Anyhow, I shouldn't be too harsh on my alma mater. After all, today they gave me a rush - a rush of well-being and happiness.

On page 18 of the alumni mag, was a picture of one of the most amazing and influential men in my life - George Clark.

George was my accounting professor. He helped me learn a subject I cared nothing about. In fact, he made me LOVE a subject I cared nothing about.

As his student, I would visit George during office hours and we would talk about life. We would talk about success and effort. We would talk about philosophy and problem resolution.

After I graduated - no doubt as a result of George's influence, George and I remained friends. When I got involved with corporate training, George and I would meet for lunch and end up discussing educational tools and ways to mess with our students' minds. We had a lot of fun talking with each other.

George passed away in 1999. The last time I saw him, he helped me decide to participate in the 2000 Alaska AIDS Vaccine Ride. I was scared to death of the ride, but George exuded confidence and pride in me. I knew I had to sign up.

George and my step-dad Duane died within a couple of weeks of each other. I loved both of them immensely - and still do.

The tough times I am going through right now - being without a job and all - are really wearing me down. Through experience, I know that I just have to continue rolling with the punches, and that even a blind pig finds a truffle now and again... But it was seeing George's face on page 18 of the EMU alumni magazine that truly gave me a lift.

George, I love you, man... and I miss your knowledge, your insight and your friendship terribly. Thanks for reminding me that you're around and looking after me.

New Year, New Altitude...

Happy new year, everyone! I hope the holidays were amazing, and everyone has kept their new year's resolutions so far!

A long time ago, I stopped making new year's resolutions. Instead, I come up with new year's goals. I am excited about the potential of 2006. During the holidays, I finally came to the realization that I've been feeling like a victim of the shitty luck I've had in my life, and nothing helped point that out more than "Cancerboy". Although "Cancerboy" has been an extraordinary source of satisfaction, it also shoved some things into the spotlight that I didn't expect would still affect me so profoundly.

And altough cancer has given me the amazing gift of perspective, I feel like I've been a bit out of whack since my diagnosis and treatment.

The beautiful thing is that 2005 brought me Sheryl, who has both knowingly and unknowingly helped me identify and understand these things and regain a sense of balance.

As such, I am snarling, showing teeth and prepared to take 2006 and make it my own.

The first step, of course, is getting another job. I need to position myself for success, and although I'm still trying to figure out how exactly to do that, I've put the concept in motion by becoming aware of it - and reminding myself about it every day.

What else am I shooting for in 2006? Planning a successful charity bike ride to raise money for Gilda's Club. In order to do this, I need to get myself back into shape as well. After all, if I am lucky, I will turn 40 years old in 2006. Over the holidays, my brother Dean said that after 40, the body goes downhill fast. If that is true, I want to have my body in the best position to go downhill. This was also my attitude going into chemotherapy, and that apparently did me good.

These are my immediate goals for 2006 (I've also got dart goals, but I won't bore you with them!). The nice thing with goals is that you can add to them as the year goes on. I don't like standing still, so you can imagine that I will be constantly dreaming up new ways to throw my life upside down!

And so everyone, I wish you peace, health and happiness in 2006. May you attain all of your goals and all of your dreams...

Come on, Dick, drop the ball... PLEASE!!!

Okay, we've established that not all things in 2005 were bad. One of the most exciting things for me was marketing "Cancerboy".

So as I eagerly await a brand new year, let's reflect on my favorite "Cancerboy" moments:

6. Book release - I mentioned this in my last post... how exciting to publish your own book!!
5. Mirror article - The 3/4 page article was a lot of fun to show around.
4. Ferndale library book reading - Even though 5 people showed up, it was exciting to discuss my book and field questions from the audience.
3. Lewiston library - In honor of my grandfather, who lived in Lewiston, I donated a copy of my book to the library. It so happened to be on the day that they were putting together the time capsule, and have a friends of the library party! Wow! Too cool to be a coincidence!
2. Book signing Memorial Day weekend - It was incredibly touching for so many loving people to come out and support the release of "Cancerboy".
1. Gilda’s Club book reading - This single event changed my life. To sit and talk about the devastating events in my life to a roomful of people, then point out how each event helped make me a stronger person was in-freaking-credible. This was a butterfly leaving its' cocoon moment that we captured on tape!

So this will probably be my last blog for 2005. I want to thank everyone who made this year more bearable, and everyone who came to my aid on so many different occasions.

May 2006 bring you and your loved ones much happiness, health and love.

Listing, Listing... part 2

Okay, seeing as that it is the end of a tumultuous year, I am presenting my top 5 worst events and top 6 best events of 2005. Tomorrow, I will be presenting my top Cancerboy moments.

Matt's Top Five Worst Events of 2005:
5. The war in Iraq - I hate the fact that this has been spun to the degree that if I question the war, I suddenly become un-American. Screw that!
4. Hurricane Katrina - I don't think that anyone will disagree... except for the face that it's not #1 on my list. Well, despite the happy holiday season, I'm feeling pretty selfish!
3. Hurricane Rita - Coming on the tail of Katrina, Rita did more damage in Florida than was covered by the news - which was still covering Katrina's impact in New Orleans.
2. Being out of work - See? I said I was selfish! With the employment being so shitty here in Michigan, no wonder so many college grads are moving out of state!
1. Having job for 5 weeks, then getting laid off - Talk about a tease! For me, this single event was comparable to getting knocked out by a Mike Tyson in his prime... I'm STILL reeling!

For me, in general, 2005 sucked. However, some amazing things still came my way.

Matt's Top Six Best Events of 2005:
6. Celebrating my birthday - After having had cancer, this will always be a highlight of any year!
5. Hamtramck festival - I hung out with my old friend Leonard, and along with Sheryl, we went to see the Hard Lessons. Great music and people who are very important to me... it don't get much better than that!
4. Trip down south/Tour de France w/ UJ - My three week excursion down South - Georgia, Florida and North Carolina, in search of work... and later in the year, I got to watch a stage of Lance's final Tour de France with my cycling guru Uncle Jack. Great memories.
3. Lilly’s birth/Mom’s surprise party - my niece was born while we were celebrating my mom's 60th birthday party. Now THAT is cool!
2. Publishing "Cancerboy" - I always wanted to leave my mark in life. And now that I am a published writer... registered with the Library of Congress... I think a mark has been made.
1. Meeting Sheryl - Hands down, the most influential (and positive) event of 2005 was meeting Sheryl. Being with Sheryl has taught me so much about myself and what I'd been missing in life. She hates it when I say this, but I wish so much that I had a job so I could treat her the way I think she deserves to be treated. When I close my eyes at night to go to sleep, I regularly thank God for Sheryl being in my life.

Listing, Listing...1, 2, 1, 2

Okay, so it's technically Wednesday and I haven't started my "Best Of 2005" lists yet... To catch up, I'm posting the first two tonight.

Here we go...

Matt's Top 5 Guilty Pleasures of 2005: (in no particular order...)
Survivor
Nip/Tuck
Biggest Loser
Pink is the new blog
Post secret

Favorite CDs: (possibly not released in 2005 and in no particular order)
Wilco - Kicking Television: Live in Chicago
Nikka Costa - Cantneverdidnothin'
Chemical Brothers - Push the Button
Gorillaz - Demon Days
Goldfrapp - Black Cherry (prior to 2005)
Zero 7 - When It Falls (prior to 2005)
Beck - Guero
White Stripes - Get Behind Me Satan (includes "My Doorbell", which Sheryl doesn't like) ;)
Eric Clapton - Back Home
Stan Ridgway - Snakebite (2004?)
Green Day - American Idiot

Bonus List:
Best Concerts of 2005:
Wilco (Meadowbrook Theater, June 21)
Stan Ridgway (Magic Bag)
Nikka Costa (Magic Bag)
Los Lobos (Tastefest, June 28)
Aerosmith (Palace of Auburn Hills, December 15)

Tannenbaum
Christmas 2005

Searching the lot for the perfect Christmas tree, I wandered amongst the pines. From the corner of my eye, I spied the perfect specimen hiding in the back.
Jingle bells jangled in my head while I bundled my coat against the winter air, making my way into the mini-forest of festive evergreens.
The wonderful pine aroma made my olfactory nerve dance, triggering memories from years gone past.
I smiled to myself as I remembered the holiday faces of my family – my mother, father, grandparents, brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins – smiling and laughing.
As I glided from one memory to the next, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t been paying attention to where I was going.
Somehow, I got turned around. I was lost!
I tried retracing my footprints in the snow, but it proved futile.
So I stopped and stood quietly – looking, searching – trying to regain my bearings.
There was a sound – the sound of something or someone sneaking up on me.
I pressed my back against a tree and raised my arms and leg – the crane pose.
– Heck, it worked for the Karate Kid, why not me? –
Standing statue-like, I saw a flash of something red beyond the brush ahead of me. Then a flash of green. And another!
I cautiously stepped away from the tree and made my way to the brush.
Peering through some branches, I saw what appeared to be a group of children decorating a Christmas tree. Even weirder – they wore long green jackets, caps and shorts!
I wiped my eyes, unsure of what I’d seen, and stepped a little closer.
“What do you suppose is going on?” a voice in my head asked. “What in the world are they doing?”
I froze, suddenly realizing that it wasn’t a voice in my head - somebody was speaking to me!
Shocked, I spun around.
Standing in front of me, was a familiar man dressed in a familiar red suit, laughing a familiar laugh.
“Ho! Hohohoho!” he snorted.
He was laughing so hard that I thought he was going to pee his pants!
“You should have seen the look on your face, Matt!” he chuckled as he wiped tears from his eyes.
It was happening again. It’s been happening nearly every year lately. I opened my mouth as if I had something to say.
“Come with me, son,” Santa said. He put an arm around me and led me through the brush.
“The elves and I are decorating a Christmas tree for the reindeer. We do it every year.”
“Ummm… why?” I asked.
“Because reindeer don’t have hands!” He held his belly as he laughed. “Ho! Hohohoho…”
I smiled.
“Anyway,” Santa continued, “I thought I heard something in the woods over there and went to investigate. You never know when you might run into a bear… or a crane! Ho! Hohohoho…”
I laughed. Obviously, he saw my awesome Karate Kid impersonation.
“So… Would you like some hot chocolate?”
“Sure!” I said, remembering last years’ velvety cocoa treat.
Santa stepped to a big red bag and pulled out a thermos and a huge mug. He poured a steaming cup of hot chocolate and handed it to me.
“How did I get here, Santa? I’m obviously not in the Christmas tree lot.” I looked around and felt a twinge of panic. “And…how will I get back??”
“Well, you might not realize this, Matt, but every time you have a happy memory of Christmas, it brings you closer to me. Were you having a lot of Christmas memories before I found you?”
“Why yes, I was!”
One of the elves had given me a handful of tinsel, and I began draping it over the pine branches while sipping the best hot chocolate I’d had in nearly a year.
“When you’re ready to leave, just let me know. I’ll show you the way back.”
“You mean you don’t mind if I stick around?!”
“Of course not!” Santa replied. “Besides, the elves have a hard time reaching the higher branches.”

So I helped Santa and the elves decorate the tree and drank hot cocoa.
Soon, however, my eyelids started getting heavy. I struggled to keep them open, but eventually gave into my weariness, closing them only for a moment – just to give them a rest.
When I opened my eyes, I was sitting in my car in my own driveway. Stupefied, I stepped out of the car only to find a gorgeous Christmas tree strapped to the roof!
I reached into my pocket for my keys and found a hand-scribbled note.

Many Christmas blessings, my friend… to you and your friends and family!
Share the magic of Christmas with them as you have with us. The reindeer love the tree!
By the way, I forgot to tell you that Mrs. Claus and I really enjoyed your book! You’ve got a real talent and we wish you great success!
Happy holidays… and remember… you better be good, for goodness sake!
Santa

I smiled and stuffed the note into my pocket. I unstrapped the tree and took it into the house.

Like a Reindeer in the Bikelights…
Christmas, 2004

I was lying on my back in the cold, wet snow,
Knocked from my bike by a deer in the road.
I was seeing stars in the still, black night, as I carefully reviewed my mental checklist:

Can you move your toes?
(Wiggle) Yup.
Fingers?
(Wiggle) Yup.
Feel the cool breeze on your cheeks?
Pause. That’s a 10-4…

My breath caught up with me,
And I gasped the frozen air into my lungs,
Coughing, coughing, coughing…

Stiffly, sorely, I stood up, brushing snow from my clothes.
I grabbed my battered bicycle, crawled out of the ditch, and nearly stepped right into

Huh?

I vigorously shook my throbbing noggin, and rubbed my eyes.
Strangely, Santa Claus was still standing in front of me!
As the high pitched whine in my head began to subside,
I heard him chuckle.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Matt,” he said,
“We always seem to run into each other this time of year, don’t we?”

“Santa?” I said incredulously, reaching out to touch his coat just to see if this was real.

He chuckled again.
“Prancer stopped to tinkle,” Santa explained,
“Unfortunately, you startled him just as he was getting ready to take off and rejoin us.”

As Santa waved his white glove towards the middle of the road,
I noticed for the first time, a sleigh and reindeer!

One of the deer stepped forward, and gently licked my cheek.
“Oh, look,” Santa said, “Prancer says he’s sorry.”

I patted the animal on the forehead.
“Sorry I startled you, Prancer,” I heard myself say.

Although I’d never before seen a reindeer smile, I’d swear Prancer did just that as he stepped back to join the other reindeer.

Santa looked at the sky.
“Beautiful night tonight.
But then again, Christmas is always beautiful…
Matt, we’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

I laughed. I laughed so hard, I heard my voice echo through the evening air.
It was a great sound.

I saw Santa steal a look at his watch. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to leave.

“Santa,” I said, “I don’t suppose you have any of those amazing chocolate chip cookies that Mrs. Claus bakes…
I’ve been riding for a couple of hours and could use some extra oomph to get me home…

Santa smiled and winked.
“You made quite an impression on Mrs. Claus when you came to see us in North Pole years ago.
She asks me to check on you every once in a while, and every year, she asks me to drop off some cookies at your house.
Sometimes, though,” he patted his belly, “I accidentally eat them before I get to Ferndale.
But since it’s early, I still happen to have a few.
Come on over to the sleigh with me.”

I swung my bike around next to me.
To my amazement, my battered bike was as good as new!

When I turned to Santa, he was already holding out a steaming chocolate chip cookie.
“Would you like some milk to wash this down?” He asked.

I smiled.
“No thanks, Santa,” I said, pulling a bottle from its cage on my bike.
“I’ve still got a little… hot chocolate… in my thermos bottle?”

I shook the bottle. It was warm and completely full!

“Santa…” I began to ask.

“Matt, you have a good heart.
I’ve seen the things you’ve done throughout the year.
I sense the love you have within you – for your family and friends.
Mrs. Claus and I both admire that.”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

Santa continued:
“Share your love at Christmas; Matt… it’s the greatest gift you can give.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Merry Christmas, Matt. To you, your family and friends.
You better get a move on, though; if you’re gonna get to your Mom’s in time to open presents!” Santa laughed.

I smiled.
“Thank you, Santa! Merry Christmas! To Mrs. Claus, too!”

I swallowed the last of the cookie with a gulp of rich hot chocolate, and waved into the sky as Santa and his reindeer took to flight.

Hopping on my bike, I clicked in my shoes, and danced on the pedals,
Fa-la-la-la-la-ing the final 10 miles home.

More Than Just Any Other Day
Christmas, 2003

As dawn approaches,
I sleep with the spirits of Christmas -
Who comfort me with dreams
Of Christmases past
And hopes
For Christmases future.

As I awake on another magical Christmas morning
- To the music of church bells and snowblowers -
I smile and stretch and rub my eyes.
I lie there, staring at the ceiling,
While childhood Christmas memories
Energize my mind.

After weeks of pre-Christmas stress,
I take a moment to acknowledge these memories
And realize that not just any day evokes these thoughts in my head.

It’s Christmas –

A day of love and joy and peace.
A day to celebrate family and friends.
A day to welcome the warm embrace of childhood mysteries.
A day when dreams come true…

I get out of bed, and wander into the kitchen.
On the table sits the plate of cookies I left for Santa last night –
Empty, next to a glass of half-drunk milk.

I smile, loving Christmas tradition,
And I notice the red voice mail light blinking on my telephone
- Although the phone never rang.

I dial the voice mail number.
“You have one unheard message…” the voice mail lady says, “First message…”

The voice of my dreams, my memories, my loved ones,
The voice of angels, of god, of Santa?
“Merry Christmas, Matt,”
The voice says, surprisingly overwhelming me to near tears,
“Merry, MERR-R-RY Christmas!”

There was no call on the caller ID,
And no name left with the message.
And instead of wondering who would have called,
I grin and hang up the phone.

Santa or god or angels,
Or the spirits of loved ones, my memories or dreams.
The magic of Christmas does funny things.
But that’s what makes it magic.
And that magic is what makes Christmas more than just any other day.

Seeking Essence
Christmas 2002

Beneath the Christmas sky,
In the calm, bright silent night,
I scan the stars
And send salutations across the universe.

The frosty air burns my throat,
I smile so hard I think I might cry,
And talk inwardly to those who have transitioned.
I thank them for all of their help -
For I am a lucky man.

Momentarily, I will step inside the warm, glowing house
And surround myself with the people I love most.
I will miss those who are somewhere else,
And toast them and their families.

In the meantime,
My eyes watch for Santa and his reindeer.
And though my chances of catching a glimpse are slim,
I could never get too old to hope to see
My essence of Christmas magic–
The jolly man himself.

The Christmas Dream
2001


I was riding my bike in Alaska,
And stopped at North Pole.
I spoke to Santa, and Mrs. Claus fed me homemade chocolate chip cookies.

The dream was so real that I could still smell the cookies.

Then I heard it again… the sound of faint whispering coming from elsewhere in the house.
I stepped into my fuzzy bunny slippers and pulled on my robe.
I reached for the baseball bat in the closet and leaped into the hallway.

Down the hall, the warm glow of twinkling Christmas tree lights bounced along the walls…
But didn’t I turn off the lights before I went to bed?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that it was Christmas morning –
ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN!

My heart began to race, and adrenaline pumped through my veins as I peeked around the corner into the living room.

There was a quick flash of light, did I see…?!?! Nah! Couldn’t be!

Convinced that I was seeing things, I got back to business.
I cocked the baseball bat on my shoulder, ready to give any intruder a surprise.
My breath came in short bursts, and I listened intently to the silence –

After checking the doors and windows, I slowly caught my breath.
I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade.
Hey… didn’t Santa offer me Gatorade in my dream?

I plopped down on the couch and rested my fuzzy bunny feet on the coffee table.
Looking at the Christmas tree, I became mesmerized by the blinking lights.
My eyes grew heavy, but snapped open, as I became very aware that something was different.

In the corner, partially hidden by the lighted tree, was a brightly wrapped box with a large red bow on top.
I stood up and glanced briefly into the kitchen…
Hey, is that a plate of cookies?

I walked curiously to the kitchen table.
Sure enough, there was a paper plate of cookies wrapped in plastic wrap.

Sticking out from underneath the plate of cookies was an envelope.
Gingerly, I slid the envelope from under the plate.
In thick letters, that could be mistaken for my mom’s writing, was written my name.

“Dear Matt,” the letter inside began,
“It was most wonderful meeting you last year in North Pole.
We kept tabs on you in Montana this year, and although you had knee problems, we were encouraged that you were able to help others have a terrific experience!”

I was frozen with disbelief, but continued reading:
“Here is a plate of chocolate chip cookies. I remember that you were very fond of them.
“I hope you and you family have a most magical Christmas, and your wonderful friends as well!”
It was signed:
“Mrs. Claus”

“Ho-lee shhhh…” I muttered.
I ripped the plastic wrap from the cookies. Unbelievably, they were still warm!!!
I sank my teeth into the delicious treat and turned my attention back to the box in the living room.

I kneeled down next to the box, which was nearly two-feet tall.
“To Matt”, the label on top said,
“From Santa”.

As I moved the box closer to me, I noticed it was nearly weightless.
I sat down cross-legged, smiling like a kid,
And tore at the big red bow and brightly colored paper.

I pulled open the box and eagerly reached inside.
There was a picture.
In the light of the Christmas tree, I recognized the picture from last Christmas Eve.
I smiled, remembering how amazing Christmas seemed last year.

I set down the photo and reached back into the box.
There was another picture, circa mid 1990’s.
Again, I happily relived warm Christmas thoughts.

I reached into the box again and again.
Each time, there was a single photograph,
And each photograph triggered another beautiful Christmas memory.

Near tears now, having gone through Christmas pictures that spanned my entire life,
I again reached into the box.
This time, I pulled out a card.

It read:
“May the happy memories of Christmases past
Fill your pores with the true spirit of Christmas.
Merry Christmas!
Love, Santa”

I hate to admit it, but I cried.
When the tears finally abated, I awoke my sleeping legs.
To my amazement, the photos had disappeared,
But the card remained in my grip.

The clock struck 6am.
I placed the card on the kitchen table next to the cookies and went back to bed,
Hoping to dream about Santa and Mrs. Claus,
So I could thank them for such amazing gifts.



I wish you all the great things in life – not just at Christmas, but always!

A Visit to Santa’s House (in North Pole, Alaska)
Christmas, 2000

It was August 21st.
Standing at an outpost in North Pole, Alaska, I noticed a huge house with a cheerful red door.

I pondered… I wondered… I hoped… and knocked.

A white-haired woman with a child-like smile answered,
Welcoming me with chocolate chip cookies… still warm from the oven.

I stepped inside.
“Hi,” I said, “I’m –“
“Matthew Cummings,” she smiled, “from Michigan.
You’ve come to Alaska with all those other amazing bike riders.
I’ll tell you this, “ she said with a wink,” every one of you will have a fantastic Christmas!!”
She caught herself. “I’m sorry, I am Mrs. Claus. Are you here to see my husband?”
I blushed. “Is he here?”

Mrs. Claus beckoned me down a long candy cane striped hallway.
“Honey!” She yelled, “We have a visitor! One of those nice bicyclists!”
From around a corner, I heard a booming voice.
“Ho! Ho! Ho! How wonderful!”
My palms were suddenly slick with sweat. I was going to meet THE coolest guy on the planet!

And there he was.

He was a hearty man, standing 6 feet tall and weighing 275 pounds.
His bright, wavy white hair, mustache and beard were stunning.
He extended a warm toymaker’s hand.
“How do you do?” He said, beaming.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say a word.
“Y-Y-You’re Santa!” I stammered.
Santa howled with laughter, his jelly belly rolling beneath his flannel
(I guess he already knew who he was).

“Would you like something to drink?” Santa asked, offering me a glass of Gatorade.
Numbly, I accepted, unable to take my eyes from him.
“So how do you like Alaska?” he asked, breaking the spellbinding silence.
I slowly came to my senses and smiled.
“I love it, Santa.”
“Nice clothes,” he laughed, commenting on my cycling apparel.
I grinned. Cyclists really do dress funny!

“Santa,” I said, “I’d like to ask a favor.”
He smiled warmly. “Of course.”
“This Christmas, instead of presents, could you give me the insight to provide my friends and family a Christmas writing that lets them know how much I love and appreciate them - not just at Christmastime, but all year long?”

Santa paused and pulled at his beard, seeming to search for the right words.
“Matt,” he finally replied, “they already know.”
He smiled, “How about if I order up some snow for your bike ride here in Alaska, instead?”
It was my turn to laugh. Like it would actually snow in August!

“Well,” I sighed, “I have to go ride my bike now. Thanks for everything, and thanks to Mrs. Claus for the awesome cookies.”
Santa shook my hand, and walked me to the door.
As he patted me on the back, he said, “Tell everyone I said hi, and make sure they know that I’m watching them, so they’d better be good… for goodness sake!”
“Okay, Santa, I will! Merry Christm - “

I turned around.

Santa was gone.

Santa’s house was gone.

In its place,
Laid a partially eaten chocolate chip cookie…
Still warm from the oven.

Christmas Week Blogs...

Years ago, I wrote a Christmas poem and included the poem in each Christmas card I sent out. People loved it, and soon, people were looking forward to my next Christmas poem.

This week, I intended to start my 2005 Lists, but instead decided to share a few Christmas poems from years past. The 2005 lists will be posted next week.

Hope you like the poems!

Have a Merry Christmas!

How Now?

Well, since my last post, I got laid off again. How's that for things that suck?? Five frigging weeks I worked there!

I could bitch my heart out, but I won't. You never know who reads these things...

Anyhow, I wanted to let you know that I am in the development phase of a blog project - Matt's lists of 2005. Starting sometime next week, I will be presenting my "best of" lists for 2005. Will you be on my best dressed list?

I can guarantee you won't. Who am I to come up with a best dressed list?? If it's not KMart's best...

I can't tell you how excited I am that 2005 is nearly over - despite the occasional moments of brilliance, this year has sucked ass.

Despite that, 2005 has offerred interesting opportunities, and it's these that I will be talking about in the near future.

Keep on the lookout! :)

What’s in the bag, dad?

December 7, 1941 – Pearl Harbor - was a day that will live in infamy.

My dad was born 366 days later – on December 8, 1942. If he was still alive today, he’d be 63 years old.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Since 2000, my life has gotten even crazier than it had been in the previous millenium. I feel that some of my biggest accomplishments and failures have occurred since then, and oftentimes, I wonder what my father would have said and done.

How proud would he have been when I rode across Alaska and Montana? How crushed would he have been with my Hodgkin’s diagnosis?

How disappointed would he have been when I was out of work for a year? How thrilled would he have been when I published my book?

My dad died of a heart attack on March 14, 1991. He was 48 years old.

My dad has been a source of a few of my life goals. The biggest: live life without regret. The second: live to be at least 49.

It’s a shame that most of the time I spent while my dad was alive was struggling to understand myself, struggling to understand my dad and struggling to understand our relationship.

As an adult, I see my friends and brothers relate to their kids, and I understand why parents do things. I failed to achieve that wisdom while my dad was alive.

I miss my dad. Sometimes moreso than others. I do know that he watches out over me – sometimes it’s unquestionable.

And if we simply cease to exist when we die, I don’t want to know. I want to believe that when I think of my dad, or talk to him still, that he’s there listening.

Smiling and nodding his head, happy to see how his son has grown up – and matured.

Dumela!

When I was training for the Montana AIDS Vaccine Ride (MAVR) in 2001, I met Nanky Seoke – a native Botswanan girl, who was going to school at Central Michigan University.

We never actually met face-to-face until we arrived in Montana, but we shared a lot of correspondence (on a ride like the 7-day 575-mile MAVR, you need as much support as possible!).

Through Nanky, I learned about the serious plight of AIDS in her home country. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, and entire families were dying. AIDS was (is) a plague in Botswana – one like we’ve never seen in America - and Nanky devoted 2001 to the ride that could help save her fellow countrymen.

During our correspondence, Nanky taught me some African phrases, but the only one I still remember is “dumela” (pronounced “doo-MAY-lah”), which means “Hello”.

Once we got to Montana, we had a “Michigan rider meet and greet” at a local bar, and Nanky and I spent a lot of the evening talking. I was interested in her thick accent and stories or Botswana. I loved it when she told me that it took nearly a month to get acclimated to American food – particularly hamburgers. She said our food tasted terrible! I’d never really thought about it like that before.

Montana was the only time I’d seen Nanky. Ever since, we’ve shared e-mails and an occasional card or note. Nanky had a hard time acclimating to the Michigan weather, and continued her studies at Howard University and Florida State University.

Recently I heard from Nanky again. She was nearly finished with her book on health and recreation. Her goal in life is to open a recreational center in her home village of Mochudi.

She also told me that she was done with her studies and was flying back home to Botswana. She’s leaving this weekend.

Nanky is a driven girl, and I expect one day to receive a flyer for the grand opening of Nanky’s recreation center. And you can bet your ass that if I ever get the chance, I will go there to show my support for this shining star.

What's up?

Last week was quite a week!

First off, I was part of a newspaper article in the Royal Oak Tribune. The article was about the Detroit Thanksgiving day parade. Although I didn’t participate this year, I got a couple of cool quotes in there. It’s been quite a year for my name in print!

So, as I’ve mentioned, I am working on a charity bike ride to raise money for Gilda’s Club. On Monday, I met with 9-time Tour de France rider and two-time Olympian Frankie Andreu to ask for his participation.

I’m telling you, I was shaking like a leaf! I am a fan of Frankie’s, and he is the first former professional bike rider I’ve ever met. I felt like a teenage girl meeting David Cassidy or Donny Osmond (showing my age there!)!

I’ve got this amazing picture of Frankie leading the Tour de France peloton on the streets of Champs Elysees, and was fortunate to have him sign it for me. He left a spot next to his for Lance Armstrong’s signature… “You never know!” he said…

Well, as a result of meeting Frankie, I have A LOT of work to do for this ride. Have I started? No…

So Monday night, Sheryl and I went to a classic rock art VIP party sponsored by one of the local radio stations. We got in because I am a member of the Gilda’s Club ad-hoc committee, and some of the profits from the art sales are going to Gilda’s Club. It was a cool gig. There was food, refreshments, and a live performance by Mark Farner of Grand Funk Railroad. Sweet!

On Thanksgiving Day, Sheryl and I took her nephew to the parade, which was AMAZINGLY COLD! Fortunately, her four-year-old nephew did not want to stay long.

So we went to Eastern Market to try and grab some food before I had to get to the Lions game. We ended up at McDonald’s. After eating, I needed to get going, so we try to leave and…

We were locked inside.

Apparently, Detroit mayor Kwame Kilpatrick and his posse needed some breakfast. They were ordering at the counter when we tried to leave, but some people were trying to get in, and somebody didn’t think they should – with the mayor in there and all…

So we eventually got out, and Sheryl drove me to Ford Field to meet up with my sister and brother in law and his daughter for the football game.

We got into the game just before kickoff. It was my first time there, and unfortunately, I didn’t have time to meander about to check out the stadium. I loved what I saw, though. It’s a very cool venue!

Well, after the suckass game, I was dropped off at home, where I quickly changed and drove to Sheryl’s. We spent the rest of the night visiting with family.

Friday night, I played in a dart tournament. By the time I left, it had been snowing pretty well, and the streets were slick. I realized this when I went into a turn a bit too fast, and my car spun around 180 degrees.

Fortunately, there weren’t any cars in the immediate area. When I was younger, I used to take my mom’s rear wheel drive Mustang into a church parking lot after the first snow and do donuts, practicing my winter driving.

All that practice came in handy Friday night. I threw the car into reverse, finishing the turn backards, and put the car back into drive, heading back home in the correct direction.

So...

Anyone wanna help plan a charity bike ride?

Anyone wanna be a sponsor?

Oy!

Toodles for now!

Thanks for the...

Sorry it's taken so long for me to blog again, I am trying to get into the routine of working again. It's a wonderful thing, that's for sure!

If you recall, I spent a lot of time bitching about being out of work. Well, what have I got to bitch about now? The answer is simple, really - nothing.

So life for me right now is amazing. I can't even say how amazing it is, because tonight's topic isn't so much about me - it's about my history. It's about my mom. It's about my year. It's about posterity.

Tonight I spent some good time with my mom. We did our Sunday football thang, which is always good. But we talked, too.

One of the things we talked about was history. My mom is upset that no one remembers Thanksgiving anymore. And I know exactly what she means.

I read an article somewhere saying that Wal-Mart is targeting shoppers earlier this year for Christmas. Yep, the 3.2 bazillion dollars that they made last year at Christmas time was less than the 3.4 bazillion that everyone else (Costco, Meijer, English Gardens, etc) made COMBINED...

So what happens after Halloween?

Santa pops up everywhere.

Now, I understand that here in Michigan, our weather has been incredibly mild, and we should be taking advantage of the weather in order to put up our Christmas lights... that I do understand.

But what about Thanksgiving?

I was raised believing that Thanksgiving was about family. What is more wholesome... more American, than having the family sitting at the table sharing dinner, conversation, respect... and thanks?

I loved going to my Grandmother's (and later, my mother's) house on Thanksgiving. We always had an amazing dinner... and the pies! Lordy!

But something I never appreciated until I got older and things changed was the chance to be with family.

See, at Grandma's, we had her and her sister - auntie Aggie - my aunt Betty, my uncle Ray, my cousins and our family.

After the amazing dinner, we would play cards or watch television. I think I learned how to play poker on Thanksgiving.

And now that I am 39 years old, with no family of my own, I really miss my grandma and auntie Aggie at Thanksgiving. I miss the closeness of family, even though I have spent nearly every single Thanksgiving of my life with my mother... I miss screwing around with my cousins.

Maybe MY Thanksgivings were special... I don't know. I don't know what anyone else does for Thanksgiving.

I do know now that we need to hold on to our memories. Our memories become history if told to the right people.

This week, I was interviewed about participating in the Detroit Thanksgiving Day parade by the Royal Oak Tribune. One of the things I was asked was why I wanted to be in the parade. My answer was that as a kid, I remember going to the parade, and thinking that the people in the parade were larger than life - something like heroes - and I wanted to be that for today's kids.

So I suppose that the moral of this blog is to beseech anyone reading - take complete advantage of this Thanksgiving. Give thanks for your family. Give thanks for the good memories. Give thanks for the opportunity to make today and tomorrow a better day than today.

Don't forget Thanksgiving. Don't let it be a speed bump on the way to Christmas.

Oui Oui Oui

For 24 years of my life, kids scared the hell out of me.

Ever since I was 11 years old and had my nose bitten off by the family dog, I hated looking at and talking to kids.

Until I got cancer at 35 years old. Then that stuff got a lot less important.

I never really felt the urge to have kids - and this is briefly documented in my book - but there are currently a handful of kids I just love to death. Of them, there is Collin, Delaney, Nick, Lilly and Sara.

This weekend, I attended birthday parties for Nick and Sara (all five of those kids have birthdays between October 1 and December 23).

Nick is at the age where he says everything on his mind - not realizing that some things you say can hurt other peoples' feelings. And this is mostly why I hated dealing with kids prior to my cancer diagnosis.

And no matter how close I get to the kids, sooner or later, they will ask or say something about my nose.

When Collin, my oldest nephew, was old enough to ask me, I had already prepared a story.

In the story, I was in a fight with members of the Japanese Dioge (D-O-G) Clan. I told him a story of a great battle where I was knocked down over and over again, and finally one of the Dioges struck my face with his sword made of teeth. He knocked off my nose, but I eventually succeeded in defeating them.

As I got older, however, the telling of stories became more of a fun thing, rather than dealing with the serious question. As such, I just learned to deal with it and tell the truth - and usually, the kids are fine with whatever I tell them. And usually, they get bored with my answer before I even finish.

Realizing all of this - in addition to realizing that nearly everything in life is small - has helped me love these kids as much as they have come to love me.

I don't know how I would be as a dad, but I do know that I love being an uncle. "Cool Uncle Matt" - that's me, and that's what I strive to be. Even Sara, who is in her teenage years - thinks I'm cool, and will talk to me as long as parental units aren't around.

Even better than being the cool uncle, though, is that I will always know a different side of these kids. We will always treat each other as people, with respect. Their parents will never know them like that.

I, too, have a couple relationships like that with aunts and uncles... and I think that's pretty damn cool.

Who are you?

One of the things I love about life is seeing how things work out. How things change. How things evolve.

People too.

This past Friday, we played against some "old-timers" who used to constantly kick our ass. One man in particular used to say stuff that got into my head. He always intimidated me.

This guy has been in the league for easily 20 years, so I always thought he had something on me... knew something I didn't know.

Well, all he knew was how to get into my head!

Granted, he is a good player, but I have had a chance to improve my game and develop strategies for my dart game.

One such thing is focus. For the most part, I have been able to block out what people say while I'm throwing. One of the girls on my team is known to talk to us while we are throwing, and in the last year or two, I think it has bummed her out that she's been getting no response. Thing is, I hear her talking, but don't know what she's saying.

It's the same thing with this guy we played Friday. Not to mention that I have gotten to know him on a personal level as well, so I realize what he is doing while talking to me, and I can appreciate it completely.

It's a pretty cool thing when you finally come to understand something like that. You feel like you can use it to your advantage... and you can bet your ass I'm gonna try! :)

For what it's worth, we beat the "old-timers" 11 games to 4... for the second time this season.

It's amazing what a job will do for your well being...

I have completed two days of my new job, and I cannot even tell you how great it feels to be back in the work force. I love the idea of getting back into a routine, and forcing myself to take better care of myself.

See, my work clothes - which I hadn't worn in a year - got really, really tight. Looks like unemployment helped Matt gain some weight (and Matt didn't need any help!).

So, once I get back into a routine, I can incorporate my training rides and workouts, and I can't wait!

This all comes at a good time - with the holidaze coming up, and too much good food being available...

I'm still a few weeks away from my first paycheck, but I know it's coming, and it feels damn good. I had to keep reminding myself yesterday to stick with my grocery list while shopping, as I'm still so, so broke! The caviar and champagne will have to wait for 8 months or so, but that's fine... I really don't like caviar anyway!

Random comment: This morning, while I was eating breakfast, I turned on the Imus radio show on TV. Imus was talking to Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., who is one of my favorite writers. Vonnegut must be in his 80s, but man, what a wonderful speaker as well! He was talking about how he was one of the first Saab dealers in America. He spoke of the early Saabs as "colorful Easter eggs". The man is fricking brilliant!

Anyhow, that's all about me for now...
Blog ya later!

I'll sleep when I'm dead...

With tomorrow being my first day of work in a year, I have been taking advantage of naps and getting up late. Well, I have for a year now, in fact! :)

Logic says that I should have spent the last week getting up earlier and avoid naps in order to assimilate to the work schedule easier. Did I?

No freaking way!

This last layoff totally screwed my future. I will never be able to afford retirement, and career-wise, it hurt me bad.

So why shouldn't I take advantage of my last week off?

Tomorrow, I will get up at 6:30am and groggily prepare for work. During the course of the day I will get my first and second winds. At 5pm or so, I will probably come home, and take a nap if I can get it in. Then I head off to bartend for Monday Night Football.

People tell me I'll be tired. Yeah. So?

I might feel like crap. I might feel bad. But I might not. Maybe the naps I've been taking for the last 367 days will have given me super non-drowsy powers.

I gotta find out for myself.

And if nothing else, like Warren Zevon sang: "I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Whoo-hoo! Bring on the work week! :)

When is it time to stand up and fight?

I spent a good portion of today watching the Ultimate Fighter on Spike TV. Holy smokes, there was some sweet ass-kicking, blood-spitting, bone-crunching action! Yep, the testosterone got pumping, just like it will tomorrow with football.

Personally, however, I haven't had a fist fight since my brothers and I were kids. It's worked out fine for me - considering I have nightmares about being in fights and my punches come off in painfully slow motion and ALWAYS miss their mark. These dreams really don't give me much confidence in my fighting abilities...

Roger Waters sings in his song "Home":

"When the cowboys and Arabs draw down
On each other at noon
In the cool dusty air of the city boardroom
Will you stand by a passive spectator
Of the market dictators
Will you discreetly withdraw
With your ear pressed to the boardroom door
Will you hear when the lion within you roars
Will you take to the hills...
Will you stand for it..."

So when is it time to fight?

A friend of mine is fighting city hall. The zoning in her neighborhood is being changed from residential to commercial. The bottom line being that once a business moves into a building - once a house is razed to become a shop - the property can never go back to a residence.

This friend of mine is studying previous city council moves and resolutions to understand her best plan of attack. She is also informing her neighbors and trying to get them involved as well.

These things will help if you abide by Sun Tzu's "The Art of War". Mr. Tzu believes in some essentials for victory, including:

* He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight.
* He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces.
* He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks.
* He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared.

In addition, I think that if you're going to fight, you need to remain calm under pressure. From what I understand about it, during military training, soldiers are taught this through repetition. Repetition of essential tasks and repetition of decision-making in high stress situations. You know, like repetition.

I myself am working on remaining calm under pressure. It's a necessary and essential skill for playing darts.

Many years ago, my brother Van asked me to complete a psychological questionnaire about him for one of his clases. In this questionnaire, I remember making the statement that I thought Van was too even-keeled. That perhaps he would find life a much richer experience if he allowed himself to get excited (or perhaps even depressed) a little more often.

And oddly enough, I think of that every time I request Dr. Ron Bacardi to help me medicate myself while playing darts. See, if I get nervous or excited, then my throwing stroke gets tight, and I lose control over my dart (dang, how's that for a potential double entendre?!). But if I am able to suppress that tension, then I can throw closer to my capabilities.

Of course, repetition through practice would likely help that, too.

So what makes it the right time to fight? What would make you roll up your sleeves and and throw a haymaker at someone's noggin?

Ironically, it could be argued that passion is the fuel of war. Yet isn't passion also the fuel of love?

Okley dokley... I know it's been a while since I last blogged, but you could argue that good things have been happening.

But let's not argue. Let's just agree that life is good!

After a full year of being unemployed, I accepted a job offer yesterday and start my new job next Monday! Whoo-hoo! :)

I had a pretty good feeling that things were going to work out after the interview on Friday, so I spent a good part of the weekend celebrating. And now, I've got one more week of "freedom".

I'll tell you what, though, I am really, really ready to get back to work. This company won't know what to do with this Tasmanian devil, that's fer sure!

Mom says she can tell a difference in my voice - that I'm less stressed - and I'm not surprised, because I feel less stressed!

So that's mainly what I've been up to. Last week, Sheryl and I saw Nikka Costa at the Magic Bag - and if you haven't heard of her but consider yourself a Prince fan, you should be ashamed of yourself! Nikka is a firecracker o' funk... she puts the fun in funky!

So the rest of the week is devoted to trying to complete some unfinished projects before I go back to work. Man, talk about RELIEF!!!

Well, I reckon that's about all for now.
Blog ya later!

When I was younger, I used to do a lot of writing and develop grand schemes for books.

Two of my biggest concepts:
1) A man wakes up in the middle of a nightmare, and after a long, bloody battle, he's successful in killing his demons. He wakes up only to find that it wasn't a nightmare - he had actually gone crazy and killed his family;
2) Two men decide to boldly sacrifice their lives in the name of peace. The concept was developed during the Reagan era, so one of the men was American and the other was Russian. The double suicide was to be something incredibly beautiful and touching, and the result of their suicide would plunge the world into peace.

So I have this creative ADD mind that sometimes explodes with creativity. But usually, an idea needs to brew and percolate before it sees the light of day.

"Cancerboy" started that way. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I somehow knew that I had to write about the experience. So as I wrote my Cancerboy updates and journal entries, I just threw them out there, not really knowing how or when all of the pieces would fall into place.

As I learned stuff - about cancer, the process and myself - I thought about how other people needed to know this. Keep in mind that prior to being diagnosed, I was a cancerphobe. And as the chemicals coursed through my veins and brain, my attitudes started changing.

It was only after I threw everything together into some sort of story, that I began to clearly define the concept and purpose of the book. That forced me to switch a lot of stuff around and do some serious editing.

The work was tough, but I am very pleased with the end result. In fact, it turned out better than I could imagine!

I talk about this mainly because Nanky - a Botswanan woman who touched my heart in Montana - e-mailed me yesterday to tell me that she has finally written the book she's been planning for years... and I'm SOOO proud of her!

We all have a story within us... it's just a matter of allowing it to get out.

Desert Night, Desert Life

I met you in a bar in Las Cruces, New Mexico.
You were looking for salvation - as was I.
We found it in the bottom of a tequila bottle,
Howling at the moon, loco lobos in the desert glow.

We laughed until we passed out in the back seat of your car.

As the harsh sunlight pierced the Native American horizon,
I stepped onto the road again, stumbling to my car.
The engine roared to life and I headed out of town,
In the opposite direction as you.

My faith restored until nighttime falls once again.

Driving

The wind blows my hair, ripples my shirt
Driving to nowhere, everywhere
Cruising out West, to the Northeast
Driving to my future, a place I just passed...

The engine hums, all signs are clear
Driving somewhere, anywhere
Splitting the country in two: haves and haven't yet
Driving in the now, and that is when...

The dream of Zen surrounds me, sweetens the taste on my tongue
Driving further, closer
I dream the American dream, any dream I may have
Driving with the wind, and spirits...

"It's a SCREAM, baby!" - quote from the movie "Scream"

What's your favorite horror flick?

In past years, my brother and I and some family and friends have gotten together to watch scary movies on Saturdays in October.

We started with the "new" classics - Friday the 13th, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street... you know, stuff like that. Then we moved on to kitshy flicks like "The Evil Dead" series.

As a result, we've seen a lot of movies.

This time of year, television plays scary movies. The other night, the SciFi channel played "The Fog". AMC is hosting its annual "Monsterfest" - which I really enjoy watching.

So what's my favorite scary movie? It's hard to say. So let me come up with a few:

* "Dawn of the Dead" - this was the first horror movie I really saw... at Lakeside Mall when I was 16 years old. It serious grossed me out, but I have really come to love George Romero's movies.
* "The Exorcist" - scared the crap outta me when I saw snippets of the flick on TV in 1980! When I finally saw the whole film, it was truly scary!
* "Halloween" - this classic had me looking under the bed for a month!
* "Nightmare on Elm Street" - I watched this by myself in the dark at 3:30am... not a smart idea!
* "Zombie" - This film was released in 1980, and was one of the most shocking of its time. I love the zombie fighting the shark scene... the shark takes a bite out of the zombie, then the zombie reciprocates... crazy!
* "Scream" - I saw this a long time after it had been in the theaters. It is a classic in its own right. Very sharp dialogue and very smart!

There are lots more that I have enjoyed. I really get a kick out of some of the old black and white horror movies.

And these days, when real life is made to be so scary, I find it's fun to lose myself in some of the unrealistic (?) scary movies from Hollywood...

"Do you think that I know something you don't know"
- Pink Floyd, from the song "What Do You Want From Me"

I sometimes get the feeling that some people look to me for answers to life.

In my career, one of my goals was to become an expert, or "guru". And I think that I achieved that. But that was non-essential stuff. After all, what does being a guru in ISO 9000 get you at the pearly gates?

St. Peter: "Holy schnikes, Matt, it says here that despite burning up all those ants with a magnifying glass between the ages of eight and twenty-eight, that you were considered an expert in some circles on the requirements of ISO 9000! That means that you get to sit DIRECTLY at the right hand of God!"

Now, it's true that I studied a lot about religions, and tried to be a good person based on the combined requirements, but some people still think that I know something that I'm not sharing.

Truth is, I struggle like hell in life. At times like now, I wonder why I'm still out of work. I mean, okay, things happen for a reason and all, but I did every possible thing I could think of, and still continue to be jobless.

The only "secret" I have learned is the reality of living each day to its fullest - that we may not be here tomorrow. How did I learn this? Ask Cancerboy.

Occasionally, I receive profound e-mails. Those ones that tell about the mysterious angel that saved someone's life, or the famous "rocks in a Mason jar" anecdote. These people think of me when they read the stories.

And all I can say is that I'm flattered.

Ted Nugent sang in his song "Stranglehold": "Some people think they gonna die someday, I've got news you never got to go..."

I took this to mean that as long as your memory remains, you will never die. And look at two of the most famous people who are never forgotten - Jesus Christ and Adolph Hitler. I decided that to be remembered, you had to be the greatest, or the biggest asshole. And although I can be a pretty good asshole, I just can't live that lifestyle.

So I try to be great. And in the meantime, I wrote a book to be housed in the Library of Congress...

... for a very long time!

Them bones, them bones...

I am at a stage in life that a medical report is shared between friends when the question is asked: "How ya doin'?"

"My knee is acting up again... must be rain."
"I've got a touch of bronchitis."
"Tendonitis, man."
"My wrists are going numb... fricking Carpal tunnel!"

Tonight I feel like I'm finishing up with my allergy problem that's been bugging me all week, but in return, my shoulder is giving me some problems. Man, I'm 39 years old, and I sometimes feel like my body is falling apart.

Here are a few of the maladies that continue to ail me:
Upper lungs are shot as a result of radiation therapy;
Chest, back and shoulder act up as a result of separating my shoulder mountain biking;
Hearing loss from balloon;
Tarsal tunnel syndrome because of all my bike riding;
Plantar fasciitis if I forget to stretch my foot on a regular basis.

Jeesum criminey!

I guess there will just come a time when we will realize that waking up each morning is an amazing enough feat... why complain about our aches and pains?

Well, that's it for tonight... my fingers are about to fall off!

With this upcoming Sunday being my 3rd "rebirthday", I have been thinking about how my life has changed since cancer.

A lot of great doors have opened, and I have learned so much about myself and about life in general.

But I also learned that one of the things that cancer took away from me was the ability to prioritize and set goals. When I realized that I may not be alive tomorrow, and that I should take advantage of opportunities as they present themselves, it really shook up my core values.

The best part about that is that, though, is that I recognize it as something I want to change and improve upon. As a result, I can work on it. I'm willing to bet that it won't be difficult to get back on that horse either - after all, I was always a good planner and goal setter and achiever.

Being out of work has helped in a way, too. At my last job, I became disappointed with where my career was going. So when I got laid off, I was forced to re-think my future.

So now that I've been out of work for nearly a year, I have started chomping at the bit to repave a career for myself. I am excited and ready to go. And I'm sure that the priority and goal thing will be like getting back on a bike after a long hiatus.

And I know a thing or two about riding a bike!

In sickness and in deaf...

Okay, I just want to go on record and say that allergies suck ass. Would I still get allergies if I moved down South? Hmmm... I dunno.

Anyhow, because I felt like crap today, I tried to catch up with a few projects that have been on my list. See, I don't like to be bored, so I create projects for myself whenever I get a little downtime. The problem is, my downtime is usually extremely temporary, and I end up with about five or six little projects started... and therefore never seem to finish a single one!

The biggest project I worked on today involved rearranging my photo albums. This is a project I started right after I got laid off. The idea was that these photo albums could be handed down our family tree, and we would have some sort of history. This, of course, is a tribute to my mom and dad, and yet another legacy for me to leave (the other being "Cancerboy" - duh! :)).

Tonight I was dealing with pictures from 1978 to 1990. These years weren't necessarily my favorite, but they were very influential. I was going to high school, then college. It was while in college that I seemed to wake up from the post dog bite haze I was in. I attribute that to my friend Michele, who might have actually been the first true angel I met. She helped me immensely in those times, and then sort of disappeared.

One of my other projects tonight was burning some CDs. This weekend, Sheryl was quick to point out that my hearing is f*cked in my right ear. I originally had problems with that ear as a result of a cold or allergies as a kid. In fact, I seem to remember blowing that eardrum (blood trickling down my face...). But nothing says WHAT DID YOU SAY??? like a helium balloon bursting right next to your ear during a charity walk - and that's exactly what happened a few weeks ago...

On one hand, I feel like I should be pissed about it. On the other hand, I have four fingers and a thumb. The fact of the matter is that I truly feel damn lucky to have these problems. There was a time in 2002 when I wondered if I would ever enjoy life again.

With allergies or being damn near deaf in one ear... being jobless or hating the Michigan cold... I'd still have to say that I'm enjoying life.

A lot.

A Prayer...

Dear God -

Thank you for all of the wonderful things you have allowed me to do and see in my life. Despite occasionally saying otherwise, I really do love my life.

Thank you for the amazing people and influences I have and have had in my life. Please bless those still living as well as those who have passed.

Thank you for the talents you have bestowed upon me. Through writing, I feel like I've honestly touched and inspired others. This leads me to believe that I have been a positive influence within a world that appears to be struggling.

This has been a tough year for a lot of people... with wars, hurricanes and earthquakes, I understand that you have a lot of people vying for your attention.

As such, I will not complain or whine. I will simply ask for one more thing - your help in finding a job.

No, it's a not a request for world peace or other idealogical requests. I just think this one is simpler in comparison, and will allow me a freer range to accomplish great things on this planet.

On that note, I will wrap this up with a final thank you. This one is for all of the angels - living and not - who watch over me and help me.

I appreciate them like all of the other gifts you have given me.

I have recently learned something interesting about me, and my job situation.

I've been seeing a counselor for the past month - trying to understand "what I want to be when I grow up". I sat down at a computer and answered questions about my abilities, interests and values - and what did I learn?

Well, if you can picture a clock, my abilities and values range between 9 and 12 (marketing and sales) and my interests lie exactly 180 degrees away - between 3 and 6 o'clock (science and technology and arts).

NO WONDER I'M SO SCREWED UP!

Ironically, however, I am currently interviewing for a job that meets these exact criteria!

My Mom and Sheryl (God bless them both!) have been praying their hearts out for me to get this job. I know there are lots more out there praying for me, too, and I cannot thank you enough!

A week from this upcoming Sunday (October 23), I will be celebrating my third "rebirthday". Lance Armstrong celebrates October 2 - the date of his cancer diagnosis - like a birthday. For me, it is the date of my last cancer treatment (my diagnosis was March 23 for those keeping score). Currently, Sheryl and I are planning to celebrate my rebirthday with my mom - who celebrated my zero and first rebirthdays with me - and Bill watching football.

With all of this stupid (and extremely stressing) lack of job and money bullshit going on, one only needs to celebrate a rebirthday to understand what truly is important in life. And as a result, I thank God, Buddha, Allah, and all of the angels and guardian angels nearly every day for all of the amazing people in my life now - and those who originally helped me get through my cancer treatments.

One of those people - who probably never reads this blog - is Liz Anderson. If you know Liz, you know that she is an amazing person. Liz has great dreams and plans, and her biggest fault is not realizing how easy it would be to achieve them.

So I suppose that if I were Aesop, and you were looking for a moral to this story, it would simply be: Be thankful for the little things. Live and dream big - you've got nothing to lose.

How often do you see ghosts?

What's the difference between ghosts and angels?

With this being October - the month of ghosts, ghouls and goblins - I've found myself increasingly interested in spooky TV shows. Yep, that's as far as I go with that stuff... no haunted houses for me!

Sorry, Mom, but I gotta tell the story...

When I was 11, I was living in Madison Heights. The Oakland County child killer was running rampant in his Gremlin. Some friends of mine in school and I kept little booklets full of notes about the killings - we were gonna crack the case.

Anyhow, my mom decided to take me and my brothers to the Madison Heights Jaycees haunted house. Rather than go through all of the details, let me just say that this haunted house scared the bejesus outta us!

As I lay in bed that night, I found myself thinking about the haunted house and the child killer. I began getting a panic attack, and started hyperventilating.

Needless to say, I never plan to step into another haunted house again - or keep a notebook of child killer information!

Years later, I was living in Texas. During a visit home, I heard that some family members were seeing odd things around the house. Some of the sightings were disturbing, and I was glad I didn't live there!

However, I did spend the night one time... and I hardly slept a wink, fearing a ghostly sighting.

For what it's worth, after a while, the weird things stopped happening at the house.

So, ghosts or angels?

It took me 39 years, but I think I've definitely seen a ghost. Or an angel.

About a month ago, I hit an emotional rock bottom. I picked up Sheryl and we went for a drive. We ended up at a grotto to say some prayers and light some candles, and while looking for an available candle, I looked outside of the lighted grotto. There was a man wearing a brown suit and nice shoes, but because the light was in my eyes, I didn't really see his full body.

It was strange since the grotto is just off the road, and we didn't hear a car pull up, so I figured that perhaps this guy had just walked up.

I nodded to him, and kept looking for a candle.

Sheryl lit a candle and then kneeled down in prayer, so I stepped away from the grotto to let her have some peace. The man in the brown suit was nowhere to be seen.

It was only after we were walking back to the car did I begin to think that perhaps I didn't see a man after all. Being one of my truest moments of desperation, maybe I had seen an angel... or was it a ghost?

Or was it really a man walking about with noiseless shoes, enjoying a bit of night air?

The sun rose late, lazily glowing in the morning sky
I blinked my eyes and looked to the East -
Towards snow-capped mountains and spinning prayer wheels,
Perhaps even the Yeti.

I shook my aching head and whispered wordless curses
to nobody,
My past had all too quickly caught up with me.
In my anesthetized reality,
my fingers twitched as I tried to clasp my hands in prayer.

Fear, anxiety and shattered dreams
poured from my eyes in the form of tears.
I was a deer in celestial headlights,
Hoping my last hope...

The empty whiskey bottle lying in front of me
Mocked my crazed emotions.
It was there - as a reflection - that I first saw her.
A tiny angel floating on the curve of the bottle.

She placed her heart on my head,
drinking up all my pain.
I think I coughed as light enveloped me.

Having lost every ounce of energy, I laid my head down to sleep.
I slept like never before, dreaming deeply
Of cherubs and seraphs, of Dalai and Panchen Lamas.

My mana restored.

This weekend, we had a surprise birthday party for my mom. When my mom turned 50 I was in Texas, and my brothers and I had people we know (and in some cases didn't know) send my mom a postcard with birthday wishes.

This year, things didn't go quite as smoothly.

Nonetheless, my mom was very surprised and extremely happy. Some 30-40 people showed up, and mom was in her glory. To add to everything else going on, my brother Van and sister in law Missy welcomed my new niece - Lillian Reese (Reece?) into the world. Grandma couldn't have had a better birthday present.

So now we have my mom, who celebrated #60, my sister in law Rhonda, who celebrated #40 and my niece Lilly all celebrating the same birthday.

And all I can say is God bless and keep them all.