The End of an errr...

I saw something the other day that said "1-20-09 - The End of an Error", naturally speaking of the wonderful downward spiral years of the Bush regime. But instead of spiraling downward myself, and reducing myself to a political rant, I want to talk about my own end of an era...

I decided to quit darts at the end of this season.

This decision was huge for me. I'll admit, my voice quivered and my eyes welled when I told my team. OBV2.0 consists of people who are very important to me - and I never want to let them down.

But as the season has gone on, confidence has left my darts, and as a result, I've become quickly frustrated. A surefire way to cure this is to practice more. Practice, however, is limited by my shoulder, which can only handle a mere 30 minutes of constant throwing. I suppose that this would be okay - as long as I practiced every day - but I simply cannot commit to that.

What used to be fun - what used to be my life, has become nothing but a source of anger and frustration. Being angry and frustrated does absolutely no good, and I hate being that way when I am surrounded by people I love.

The nice thing about it, though, is that it frees Sheryl and I up to do stuff on Friday nights. We are so busy with our jobs and I am trying to keep a regular cycling schedule, that we never seem to have enough time to do stuff that we want. Since I've been sick, I've believed in taking advantage of opportunities. By committing to darts on a weekly basis, I've limited my opportunities.

Darts has been such a great thing for me. I loved playing in the two leagues, and the regular tournaments and such, but that was when I had more time. I was careless, reckless and had a great time!

I'm searching for something bigger though, and more rewarding. Darts filled a void when I needed it, and introduced me to a lot of great people. But now I need to take care of other things that I've been neglecting.

Maturity sucks, but I'm grateful that I am open-minded and flexible enough to acknowledge when such a change needs to take place. I recognize that I will always yearn for knowledge I do not have, and experience things I never did before. And sometimes, you need to give something up to make way for the next great thing.

Last friday, Sheryl and I went to a "coffeehouse" event at Gilda's Club. It was an open mike, and featured a wonderful performance by the inspiring Jill Jack. It reminded me of the Wednesday night open mike night at the Cross Street Station when I was in college. Every Wednesday was magical and exciting. We never knew where the night would take us - and last Friday night could have been the same way (without all the alcohol!)... but we were committed to darts, which would pretty much guarantee to end in a haze of cigarette smoke, burning eyes, and the munchies at 1:00am, while getting ready for bed.

There is no magic in that.

I love OBV2.0. I am going to miss playing darts with them every Friday. However, we still have pick-up games to look forward to. And I am well-aware that I can always join a dart league in the future...

If the time comes.

To paraphrase taoist Lao-Tzu, "The only constant in the Universe is change..."

And I don't think he meant coins.

What's that smell??

“I love the smell of napalm in the morning… Smelled like... victory.” – Apocalypse Now

How much does it matter if you win or lose?

Not much, unless you’re a bullfighter, I guess…

But there really is something to winning that you never really know unless you’ve been losing.

This past week, our dart team finally won our first match of the season. It took six weeks of losing before we won.

We always say that it’s more about having fun than winning. Which is fine if you only lose a few here and there. Otherwise, the losing just grates on you.

“If you don't have confidence, you'll always find a way not to win”

Losing can crush your confidence. I tried to pump up our team this week by telling them that we’re going to be underdogs for the rest of the season. And if nothing else, we can look to f*ck up a lot of teams who are looking past us!

Well, we finally won.

And so did the Lions, whom I have been rooting on for years. Who’da thunk they’d be 6-2 at this point? I’m tickled to death!

Oddly enough, victory smells kinda like hickory.

Internet Whiteboard

She seems as if she can never do enough for me
She laughs
She makes me happy

When she's concerned about me, she tries not to let it show (too much)
When she's mad at me, she tries not to let it show (too much)

I know, and it makes me feel bad.

She deserves to be as happy as she makes me
She deserves the world on a silver platter
She deserves to know - on a regular basis - that I love her.

24/7, I shield her the best I can
24/7, I try to make her laugh
24/7, I realize more than anything

she's my angel.

What's in a name?

This year, our dart team is struggling. We throw decent darts throughout the game, but we just can't seem to make that final - kill - shot.

We're lovers, not killers.

It's a family team, essentially... with my wife, my brother, my sister, my longest-known friend and another great guy, we all get along really well.

We're lovers, not killers.

Except for one guy on our team, who likes to go deer hunting. But besides that...

We're lovers, not killers.

Our team name, OBV2.0, is an extension from last year's team - Oddballz. OBV2.0=Oddballz, version 2.0. Yay, the mystery is out!

Because we are struggling this season, we have moments when the lover-side of us lapse. As a couple of us raised our shot glasses for a toast this past Friday, I suggested we name our team "Nads". That way, when we cheered ourselves on, we could say "Gooooo NADS!" and get a good chuckle out of it.

So what's truly in a name?

Sure, we could use dart-specific names like "Three in a bed", "What's the point?", "Bull shooters", "Just the tip", etc.... but that's so passe'.

We could use my name: "Matt's Maestro's".

Or use our relationship: "Family Affair".

Seeing as that we will be underdogs for the rest of the season, we could be "The Underdogs" and take up pseudonyms based on the characters: Shoeshine Boy, Simon Bar Sinister, Sweet Polly Purebread...

Maybe we need a mean name like "The Meanies" or "I'll Kick Your Ass if You Win".

But we can't.

We're lovers, not killers.

So for now, OBV2.0 will remain. But being underdogs, we realize that we may not be taken as a serious threat.

And this will give us the perfect opportunity to pounce - with our teeth bared and gnashing - aiming straight for the jugular.

Music is the best

According to Frank Zappa, in his song "Packard Goose", information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is THE BEST...

I love the words and music of Frank Zappa. I have often thought about the conversation we would have if we had ever met.

Matt: Hi Frank. It's a pleasure to meet you.
Frank: Is it?
Matt: It sure is. I really enjoy your music and stuff you talk about.
Frank: Stuff like what?
Matt: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

There doesn't seem to be too many stupid musicians, whose talents lie on the record store shelves. Frank would talk circles around me, even though I am a relatively smart person. In fact, I would bet that a lot of the musicians I love would talk circles around me.

Of course, I would have to talk to them about challenging topics. Sure, we might start out talking about the weather, but eventually, I would have to ask David Bowie where he gets his inspiration, and how he developed his method for writing lyrics.

I'd be spinning in moments.

I like intelligent music. Overly intelligent music like jazz goes way over my head. Instead, I like synchopated stuff. Stuff that throws you off balance and makes you think.

I also enjoy a good story sung to me. Give me a Jim Croce song, or James Taylor, Warren Zevon, Jackson Browne...

Warren Zevon wrote songs that make me want to be the main character. What sort of observer would tell the tale of London's werewolves? How much shit's gotta hit the fan before you'd have to cry out for lawyers, guns and money? Who would keep a busy schedule trying to fit in the seven deadly sins?

Crazy, man, crazy.

But what's wrong with simply having fun with music? One of my favorite rock and roll bands, Cheap Trick, keeps anger and profanity out of their songs. I loved the simple rock of early Van Halen and Aerosmith.

Most of the time, though, I use music to help me achieve a certain mood. When I write, or try to be artsy, I like to listen to introspective stuff like Pink Floyd, or krautrock like Neu or early Tangerine Dream.

To everything is a season
And a time for purpose under heaven.

For me, this is also true for music.

The record album turns, turns, turns. Our moods and lives change. Have you ever wondered what soundtrack would define a movie of your life?

I think mine would be as jam-packed as the 10-disc 70s music explosion collection...

...as seen on TV.

The First Day of the Rest of Your Life

On October 23, 2002, I had my first beer in months. My mom, my aunt and uncle, all came over to watch the Red Wings on TV, and to celebrate the end of the most brutal time of my life.

I choked down a couple of beers and some pizza, my throat still screamingly raw from 17 sessions of radiation therapy. I think I smiled a lot. We all smiled a lot.

Every day since then has been filled with smiles. Some days were difficult, but most days it was easy to get a smile out of me.

And although one could say that my 2002 bout with cancer was the start of a bad luck streak, I still found a way through it. Lord knows, I don't know how I got through some of those dark days, but they are now behind me. And I try to never look back... ever.

Try.

Sometimes, I've learned, you have to look back. You have to look at the lessons you learned and you have to look at what you've accomplished. You have to identify these things in order to help others who may be going through the same thing.

I didn't go through my trials and tribulations myself. I had my family and friends available when and if I needed them. I don't know if I could have survived without them.

Lately, I've been feeling burned out on the cancer thing. The burden and commitment of being a survivor of the disease is huge.

In December 2002, I signed up as a volunteer at Gilda's Club Metro Detroit. Being less than two months out of treatments, I was overflowing with the need to give back. I visited the clubhouse often, and became somewhat of a fixture there.

Of course, it was there that I met my wife Sheryl.

While we were dating, Sheryl and I still participated a lot at Gilda's Club. With her support, I proceeded to develop two fundraising bike rides, where we hauled in nearly $30,000 to support the clubhouse that was always so good to us.

As a cancer survivor, you are always the local expert in cancers of all sorts. If Bob's uncles' grandmother was recently diagnosed with melanoma, and you had thyroid cancer, it doesn't matter... Bob will come to you for advice, and you will graciously try to help.

But I don't know if it is the passing of time, or the change of life I've experienced, but I don't have it in me right now to play the cancer game. I feel awful about it, because I still feel the obligation of the cured. Maybe I've just burned out and need to focus on some other things right now.

October 23, 2002 was the first day of the rest of my life. And I've taken complete advantage of it.

October 23, 2007 is the first day of the rest of my life. And I plan to take complete advantage of it.

It's no fluke that when I lay down to go to sleep every night, I thank God and the angels that surround Sheryl and I for an awesome day, and all of the opportunities that made themselves available. It's no fluke that I thank them for the time I spend with Sheryl. And it's no fluke that I ask them to bless our family and friends.

The Army gets more done by 6am than anyone else.

More power to them.

Are they really enjoying it, though? Are they truly living every moment?

Are you? Am I?

I know one thing for sure...

I'm trying like hell.

Have a great day. And a great day after that.

Nothing/Anything?

It's not often that I write a blog without a big idea behind it, and unfortunately, this will be one of the few.

I am sitting in our quiet house, trying to get a handle on having so much time on my hands. Since leaving Oshkosh, I haven't been working so many hours, and I feel like a part-timer only putting in 40-45 hours per week.

After visiting my doctor earlier this week, I was appalled at my weight, and should be doing something about it. However, yesterday, I rode on the trainer for the first time this season, and did something to my hip. It bugs me too much to ride and bugs me too much to do yard work. It bugs me, dang it!

Sheryl is still at work, so I decided to catch up a bit with all three or four of my blog readers, and let you know what I've been up to.

Last week, Sheryl and I took a couple of days off together. We vacationed in fabulous Ferndale. ON Thursday, we went to Slow's Bar B Q for a late lunch... MMMMMM YUMMMY! Then we went to the newly opened (and now striking) Motor City casino. We weren't too impressd, and still like the Greektown casino better.

Thursday night, I began putzing around with my latest project - the garage door opener. Now, I don't know what exactly happened, but I worked on that bitch for DAYS, and only this past Monday did I get it finished!

It was strange actually taking my time with a project, and making sure it was done right. In the past, I'd do it all half-assed and not care. Married life probably did that to me, but who knows? I can still blame cancer...

Saturday, we had another of our occasional tequila tasting parties. MMMMM YUMMMY!! Oddly enough, it had taken us five years of these parties before anyone purchased the same tequila as another had. In this case, my brother Van and I both bought a fifth of Casa Noble reposado. Fortunately, of the five tequilas we had, that one was the best. So we had to have a second shot of it!

The food - as usual - was AWESOME! MMMMM YUMMMY!! (are we beginning to understand my weight problem yet?) And this gets me to something else...

When I was in Oshkosh, I missed our first night of darts this season. I was seriously bummed, and Sheryl called to tell me that the team was having a lot of fun and doing pretty well, too. I thought about how Sheryl has embraced two of my favorite pastimes: darts and cycling. I thought I'd give one of her favorite pastimes a shot - cooking/grilling.

Because Sheryl seems to really enjoy cooking, I try to stay out of her way. I know that sometimes she would prefer me to cook, but I feel so out of place in the kitchen these days... so I think I'm gonna work on that. And as I get my feet wet, I'll probably lose weight... after all, have you TRIED my cooking?? ;)

Well, Blogger is scheduled to go down for maintenance in about ten minutes, so I reckon I should wrap this up...

I want to give a shout out (although he will likely never see this) to Saul Raisin - I just finished his book (Tour de Life), and was amazed how similar people are who survive brain injuries like him and survive cancer like me.

Roll on, Saul!
Take care of yourselves, folks...

Cheese n' Rice!

For almost the entire time since my last post, I have been sequestered just off Lake Winnebago in Wisconsin. Four weeks of cheese, Green Bay Packers and beer... oh, work, too.

I figure I spent 1/4 of my married life away from my new wife, and that sucked. In fact, a lot about this time away sucked.

But, like everything else, there is a silver lining... being terminally optimistic, I see that I possibly cemented my job at work. I earned time off, and helped people out.

Of course, I had no social life - and I'm a social person.

Instead, I would get back to the hotel, do some quick exercises, eat PB&J sammiches and call Sheryl. Then I'd watch TV until I went to sleep. Yow, was that boring!

So now it looks like I'm home for a while. I am looking forward to spending time with my not drunken punkin, weekends watching football, hanging with friends while playing darts on Fridays, and celebrating life.

On October 23 (two weeks from today), I will celebrate the 5-year anniversary of being cancer free. I call that date my "rebirthday". It reminds me how important life is, and how I should live my life - not taking things too seriously, having fun and making sure every important person in my life knows how I feel about them.

Many of our friends and family comment to Sheryl and I about how happy we are and how much fun we have. Between my ability to celebrate a rebirthday and Sheryl's understanding via work how short life is, we can't help but want to spend all of our time having fun.

Whenever we get some time away from work, wanna come out with us?

Car Crash

Okay, so I’ve assimilated well – at least in my noggin – with my cancer survivorship.

The likelihood, however, is that I haven’t. Still.

Five years out, and I still find how deep the bruises of cancer survivorship run. There’s a tragic beauty to the immediate empathy I feel for those within my cancer community. My heart goes out to everyone in that situation.

Yet at the same time, I pains me.

I really don’t know why. Maybe it’s that I’m still too close to the horror. I think way deep inside, though, it still scares the f*ck out of me.

My biggest pre-cancer fear was drowning. As a kid, I got stuck underwater a couple of times and swallowed a milk jug or two of pool water. You’d think I’d have learned after the first time…

But now, my fear of drowning competes against a second fear – cancer recurrence.

Like any other fear, I tend to forget about it until it jumps in my face. Last night’s TLC show “Crazy Sexy Cancer” smacked me upside the head much like the previously discussed “Living with Cancer” show.

Now don’t get me wrong… I think these types of shows are amazing. They do for TV what I wanted to do with my book – show people what fighters and heroes are really about, and what people go through while being treated for cancer.

I think more importantly, these shows portray how important attitude is when dealing with these sorts of setbacks. It is very important for people to see.

Last night, I told Sheryl that watching “Crazy Sexy Cancer” was like watching a car crash. I didn’t want to watch it, but I had to see what happened next. I can’t explain it.

It sucked because I knew how important it was for Sheryl to watch it. During the first commercial, we talked about different points of view – doctor vs. patient – and I was amazed by how differently I – as former patient - see things.

Now and again, out of the corner of my eye, I’d see Sheryl looking at me. I felt that perhaps she was studying me for reactions. And this is a beautiful thing about our relationship: I can help her in her job by teaching her things about her patients and survivorship. But last night’s sad fact was, I couldn’t return her gaze, because I knew if I did, I’d burst out in tears for absolutely no reason.

As a result of my cancer experience, my life has completely changed. I relish life a whole lot more. I relish my family and friends a whole lot more. I know what is important to me and I have a better idea of what I want and who I am.

I hope that TV shows like this will help non-survivors understand or give them a point of reference so they can help themselves – or others who have cancer.

I hope that people know the difference between watching shows like this and a watching a car crash. This morbid vulgarity of someone else’s misfortune is meant to educate and inspire, and not necessarily entertain. We are the anti-Paris.

Yes, I apparently still have issues. But that just makes me an adult, right? It’s a great life with lots of humor, and being sad once in a while is okay.

Unfortunately, though, I am the kind of person who needs to understand why I am sad (when I happen to be sad). Did “Crazy Sexy Cancer” put me right back in the middle of my fight with cancer? Did it remind me of the person I was and values I had before cancer? Did it remind me of my chances of getting a secondary cancer? Did it make me think about how short life is?

Or did it throw a spider into my arachnophobic lap and simply scare the f*ck out of me?

Who knows, with some out-of-the-box thinking, maybe stuff like this could become the latest Disneyland or Six Flags thrill ride…

Is life all about fun or is it supposed to be serious?

Suppose you are blessed with the opportunity to have a career doing something you love. And you have a blast doing it. On top of that, it allows you do have a great personal life and do kickass things like travel and such.

Suppose you are Lance Armstrong or Saul Raisin. You were born to ride a bicycle. You are young and "living the life of Reilly". And WHAM! It hits you - cancer, brain injury.

I was talking to a friend of mine at work. His mom is on the opposite side of the country, and just recently had to have brain surgery done. We talked a little about it, shared some experiences, and eventually started talking about cycling. At the end of the conversation, he felt better - and so did I.

So it got me to thinking... is life all about fun, with some serious shit eventually thrown in there, or is it serious with sprinkles of fun?

When I was a kid, I spent hours reading and re-reading a book by Remy Charlip called "Arm in Arm". It was one of my favorites. The title comes from a "vignette" - if you will - in the book. "Two octopi were walking down the aisle. Arm in arm in arm in arm in arm..."

One of the most memorable stories in the book was a picture on the left hand page with some kids playing out in the snow. One kid says "Isn't it better to be out in the snow playing, rather than being inside, laying in a nice warm bed?" On the right side of the page, you see a bunch of kids laying in bed. One kid says "Isn't it better to be laying in a nice warm bed, rather than being out in the snow playing?"

And so I ask one more time, is life supposed to be fun with some seriousness thrown in, or is life serious with some fun tossed in for good measure?

I'm sure you know my answer.

Le Velo Hangover

The 2007 Tour “DAY” France finished up yesterday, and now I face the torture of post-Tour hangover.

This years’ race was once again marred by doping issues, and it really started to take its toll on how I watched the daily summaries. I mean, what counts as a “phenomenal feat” anymore these days, without bringing in the doping question?

It sucks. You want to believe that amazing things can happen when someone sets their minds to it. I’ve actually done such things myself. But why do we quickly find ourselves not believing?

Rather than expound my foolishness on that topic, I wanted instead to talk about one day. This years’ race had one really exciting day of racing. Although, in fact, Saturday’s time trial wasn’t all that exciting except for the end, and the last three riders.

In the late (dope-filled) 1990’s, there was nothing better than watching Marco Pantani beat the pants off his rivals in the mountains. In the early 2000s, I often wondered when Lance would make his move – when he did, it was always dramatic.

Lance changed the Tour de France. He made it more meticulous and frankly, less fun. Believe me, I admire his accomplishments, but I wish the race wouldn’t be so predictable these days.

It’s true, this was the first year that I couldn’t put together a top ten prediction list, and as it turned out, I was 100% correct – because there was no way you could have predicted the overall outcome.

Le Tour used to get me psyched to do a training ride. But now, the drama takes a lot of that excitement away.

So Sheryl and I look elsewhere for that rush to ride and the psyche to cycle… we found nirvana.

Nirvana, thy name is the Mike Walden Velodrome at Bloomer Park.

The thunder-like rumble of the track gets our pulse racing before we even see the riders pedaling in circles.

Sitting under the warm summer evening sky, while watching single gear Madison racing is completely inspiring. And the family-like atmosphere keeps us going back.

Watching 19-year-old Luke Cavendar beat everyone like they are sitting still gives us reason to think that we may be watching a neo-pro.

And though Sheryl and I narrowly missed our chances at Olympic dreams (okay, our chances were more than narrowly missed), we can hope and wonder that the kid who inspires us on our weekend rides, might be a gold medal winner lying in wait.

Come on out to Bloomer any Friday night, and chances are you will see Sheryl and I smiling dumbly, cheering on the riders – clapping and sipping our homemade hangover remedies.

Sunrise sunlight
Warm my sleeping face
Through the window of my room
Through the window of clouds

Sunrise sunlight
Warm my sleepy heart
Radiate my soul
Radiate my world

Sunrise sunlight
Warm my fingers and hands
Wake their healing power
Wake their compassion

Sunrise sunlight
Warm my sleeping face
Grace my lips
Grace my words

For some weird reason, I have been repeatedly reminded lately of my childhood summers.

Particularly, I’ve been fondly reminiscing about going to visit Auntie Aggie and Uncle Phil.

Auntie Aggie was my grandmother’s sister. Like my grandma, Auntie Aggie was a tough broad. I adored her, like I adored my grandmother.

During the summer, when I was a wee laddie, I recall my mom, my grandma and I going to Auntie Aggie’s house.

As much as I adored my Auntie Aggie, Uncle Phil was a pretty cool dude. He would do stuff with me, while letting the women-folk gossip and such in the house.

Sometimes, we would go out to the old-smelling, wooden garage and build stuff. I would hammer boards together in the most awful manner and Uncle Phil would call it a masterpiece.

Sometimes, we would walk to the neighborhood park and mess around there.

Uncle Phil was my buddy.

And now, as I get older, my memories become fonder each passing summer.

I told Sheryl that I always thought I would die of a heart attack. But while reminiscing about my childhood summers, I realized that that may not be true.

The neighborhood kids and I played a lot during the summer. We were outside almost all of the time. It was never too hot.

And we played baseball like it was going out of style.

I played tee-ball and little league. And on off days, we would play at the school baseball diamond.

We would play until it was either dark, or until mom called us in.

Being a big kid, my knees always hurt me by the end of the day. They used to hurt so bad, that I would sometimes be in tears once I finally sat down for the night.

But my desire to play… play baseball, play with my friends… my heart… was always bigger than pain. Bigger than my knees.

And so, I am re-thinking the heart attack thing.

Is it possible to die from playing too much?

On Beat with the Dreamers

Lately, I’ve been listening to a podcast of Harry Shearer’s “Le Show” on KCRW. Harry interjects news with dry sarcasm, which he has become known for.

This week, between stories of Iraq and American chest puffing, Harry threw in an audio clip of “Getting Better” by the Beatles, commenting on the 40 year anniversary of Sgt. Pepper’s being released.

This got me to thinking… if I had a weekly hour radio show, what would I do that would 1) entertain listeners, and 2) maintain sponsors?

Since I love music so much, I would have a tough time keeping music out of the show. I could try and tie in a song/musical group/etc in with a topic, whether current or historical.

Dang, now that I think about it, that would be fun!

Then again, see how well I maintain my blog?

The thing is, I enjoy blogging about what I’m thinking… what affects me most. And right now, this topic is still cancer. And to be honest, I get tired of talking about cancer.

So what else is going on in my life right now?

Well, since you last laid eyes on my blog, Sheryl and I got married in Maine.

We had such a great time in New England. I particularly enjoyed exploring the little cities and hilly towns with their white-steepled churches and colonial (literally!) houses. Acadia National Park was amazing, too, and we drove up Cadillac Mountain, where they say that at sunrise, you could be one of the first people to see the sun in North America. Very cool!

During our trip, we took little detours that ultimately took us into Canada, New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. Whew!

Many of you know that one of my goals in life is to step foot in all 50 states. As a result of this trip, I am up to 42 states visited. The remaining eight include North Dakota, South Dakota, Kansas, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, Oregon, and Delaware.

I am a lucky man. I have been able to achieve the important dreams in my life, and I would love to be an inspiration for my nephews and nieces and anyone else who could use some inspiration.

Sheryl says that she feels like she needs to help me focus on some of the realities that may impede my dreams. And it’s true. I am a dreamer… John Lennon wasn’t the only one. And I know that Sheryl loves me and will do everything in her power to help me achieve my dreams – no matter how crazy I make her. That alone makes me lucky. I hope she knows I would do the same for her.

I believe that dreams can change the world. So the next time an incredible, life-changing thought pops into your head… ask yourself a simple question: Why not?

The Drive to Survive

Last night, Sheryl and I watched the “Living with Cancer” special on the Discovery channel. There was a lot of information for the common man, and it sort of inspired cancer survivors.

The show included a “town meeting” with Lance Armstrong, Elizabeth Edwards and Leroy Sievers.

I had been listening to Sievers’ podcasts for a little while now, and it was interesting to add the face to the voice. I had found while listening to these podcasts, that Sievers was often dead on in speaking about things that cancer patients and survivors think.

A lot of times, it’s hard for me to listen to the podcasts, because it hits home. But at the same time, I feel it’s important to hear what he says because I need to be reminded.

It’s like rubbing your fingers repeatedly over a nasty scar, this reminder, and it’s important to survival.

In the deepest depths of chemotherapeutic hell, I constantly wondered if I had accomplished what I was supposed to accomplish in my life. It was a miserable reminder that I had to survive. I had to do something more important than piss red Adriamycin and endure self-administered Neupogen shots.

Leroy Sievers last night reminded me of that tortuous question.

When I was in high school, I had a profound moment of awareness. I realized that in order to be remembered – and therefore allow your memory to live on well beyond your rotting corpse - you have to do something huge: good or bad.

If I were to ask people to name the person in history who epitomizes “good”, I suspect that they would respond “Jesus Christ”. On the other hand, if I asked who epitomizes “evil”, many people would respond: “Hitler”.

So that was my dawning realization: People in history are remembered for their total goodness or total evil. And since I don’t have many evil bones in my body, I needed to think about how good I can be.

Not to mention, that I have always had a big heart. As a child, I went Christmas caroling with a friend of mine, and although we ended up splitting $3 between us (no doubt we were given money to shut up!), I gave my share to the church.

I often wonder why I decided to torture myself with the planning of yet another Gilda’s Riders event. Yet the answer is simple: I need to help. It is me.

In the inaugural “Heal” magazine – a magazine about living beyond cancer – they talk about the growing number of cancer survivors. The Lance Armstrong Foundation is now calling it an army.

The bottom line is that we are on the verge of a movement – a cancer survivors’ revolution. This revolution was not spawned by the summer of love. This revolution is spawned by the strong minds and hearts of fragile, healing bodies.

No one can afford to turn their backs on this army. No one can quiet the growing rallying cry. We are human beings, for crying out loud, and need to respect one another.

At my moment of death, when the tunnel of light beckons me, I expect to be asked if I had accomplished what I had intended to accomplish on this planet.

I will likely be disappointed that I could not do more.

But like a virus, I can only hope that while my body no longer remains, my soul will infect others, who will take things even further than I was able to do.

Luck

"I'm a great believer in luck and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it."
~Thomas Jefferson

I never cease to be amazed by luck, and karma, so I need to give it kudos.

Saturday, I got some new tires, and while waiting, I took a stack of old e-mails that my former boss sent. See, I printed them out because I thought they showed questionable ethic and morality. It was my intent at one point to hold onto these e-mails just in case I was wrongfully dismissed from my position.

Well, I was blessed with the opportunity to quit that job and give the respect back to my boss that he had given to me (none). And my life has been amazing since.

Recently, I've heard that my former boss is being investigated for some of those ethical and moral issues I mentioned. So I thought that I would go through these e-mails and see what I could do to help things along.

I debated about whether I was being petty and drudging up a past that didn't need to be drudged up. But I also thought that no one should go through the mental distress that I had gone through.

Halfway through the e-mails, karma stepped up and gave me a harsh warning to stop - the tire shop pointed out that my front coil springs were broken and the cost to replace them was outrageous, considering that I've got 100,000+ miles on the vehicle.

Disappointedly, I decided that I would shop for a new car. I had originally wanted to wait for another year before that happened, but I accepted my fate.

I also threw away the e-mails.

"Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

On a whim, I went online to see why it cost so much to replace my springs... maybe there was a special one-time use tool they had to use or something.

Well, to my surprise, I ran across a few message boards that spoke about my vehicle and broken springs. There was a recall on some models and there was an extended warranty on others.

Could I be so lucky?

As it turns out - yes.

My springs did happen to be under recall.

So at 100,000+ miles, I will be getting new springs for the vehicle I love. Free of charge no less!

Was it the right move to pitch the e-mails? Absolutely, it was! No good would come out of that.

And you can believe that I will be contributing a positive event into the universe to thank my luck, or karma, or cause and effect.

Turn of the Tides

As the weather changes, so does my house. Now that Sheryl has been here a year, and seeing as that we're getting married and all, the suggestions for home improvements increase.

Now this isn't a bad thing... as a matter of fact, I mostly like it. As my mom mentioned, the house is becoming a home - don't forget, I've lived in this house for 10 years already!

But a year ago, my backyard was a rock garden. Now, as I sit out on my dilapidating deck, the freshly cut grass almost shimmers in its greenness. The shepherd's hook, which didn't exist in my yard until last year, is home to the wind chimes I gave Sheryl for Christmas. In a few weeks, it willl most certainly also be the bearer of a hanging potted plant.

The front of the house is changing, too. The dying old light fixture is gone, replaced by something a bit more contemporary. The crappy mailbox has gone to pasture as well. I think the new one can withstand a nuclear barrage.

Inside, the hallway that was home to Red Wings paraphernalia is repainted and relighted, proudly displaying a few vinyl albums' artwork.

The piece de resistance is the nearly complete kitchen - awaiting only a countertop and garbage disposer. Aside from the rock garden cum lush green grass backyard, the kitchen is a shocking transformation.

The thing is, I've often thought about doing some of the upgrades that we have been doing. But for some reason or another, they never happened.

These changes are the good changes. Changes that don't de-rail your days too much. Not like my beloved vehicle, which I had completely fooled myself into thinking that I'd had it for over 100,000 miles and it was still in good shape. This weekend, it was brought to my attention that the springs in the front are busted and to replace them would cost nearly $800. So it looks like I'm in the market for a new vehicle. After all, with the right deal, that $800 can guarantee me four months in a new car...

Seeing as that I'm nearly 41, I ought to finally heed David Bowie's advice. He once said to me in a sing-song voice: "Turn and face the strain... Ch-ch-changes... Pretty soon you're gonna get a little older."

And George Carlin interjected: "I put a dollar in one of those change machines. Nothing changed. "

So to them and everyone else, I say: What's that got to do with needing a new car?

In A Bad Condition

“If I tell you what Im doing today

Will you shut up and get out of my way?

Someone asked me what the time is,I dont know

Only know I gotta go now

No time - trying to get a watch repaired

No time - never got a thing to wear

Hear the ringin of the telephone no no

Hear a ringin in my head now

No such thing as tomorrow, only one two three go!”

– “Got the Time” by Joe Jackson

All morning, I was thinking about this song, and how time just goes so damn fast. I wanted to bitch about time, lack of time, but there’s a time and a place.

I was derailed this morning instead by the news that one of my all-time favorite voices of America has died.

If you go to the Kurt Vonnegut website (http://www.vonnegut.com/), there is a simple, roughly drawn, yet poignant picture of an empty birdcage, and the dates “1922-2007”. Like his work, this icon speaks volumes.

When people die, we often get selfish. For instance, I find myself realizing that I am going to miss reading his new works, and will never get the opportunity to see him speak in person.

“When I got home from World War II, my Uncle Dan clapped me on the back, and he said, ''You’re a man now.'' So I killed him. Not really, but I certainly felt like doing it.”

– Kurt Vonnegut’s 1994 commencement speech to the graduating class of Syracuse University

What I should be saying is how much of an influence KV was on me. I loved his dry sense of wit and really loved the way he put words together.

''When a Tralfamadorian sees a corpse, all he thinks is that the dead person is in a bad condition in that particular moment, but that same person is just fine in plenty of other moments. Now, when I myself hear that somebody is dead, I simply shrug and say what the Tralfamadorians say about dead people, which is 'So it goes'.''

– “Slaughterhouse Five”, by Kurt Vonnegut

One of my two absolute favorite books is Cat’s Cradle, written by KV in 1961. I am so mesmerized by this book, that I read it every few years, and am blown away every time. I’ll never forget the words of a fellow bar traveler, who had just finished reading “Cat’s Cradle” for the first time:

“Holy shit, man, I was literally shaking by the time I got to the last page!”

Kurt Vonnegut wrote darkly, yet he added color, life, vibrancy and thought to my life. I never met the man, but I am absolutely affected by his death – just as I was by his life, and writings.

Time is a kick in the ass. It goes by so fast, and we breeze through, until something grabs our arm, yanking us back to stop and notice.

“Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain

You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today

And then one day you find ten years have got behind you

No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun”

– “Time” by Pink Floyd

We call it “stopping to smell the flowers”. Yet, we tend to only notice when the flowers are just past their full bloom.

I really do hate always alluding to it, but like time, cancer is a kick in the ass. It is one of the few things in life – and death – that can alter time.

Through the hateful grace of cancer, the nauseating march of chemotherapy’s death, my watches broke and my internal clock wiped sleep from its tired eyes.

Though I intended to whine about the lack of time we have, I was blessed with a moment to stop and smell the flowers. And instead, I was given an opportunity to lament the fact that one of my all-time heroes and influences happens to be in a bad condition in this particular moment… although he was just fine in plenty of other moments.

Bravo, Kurt Vonnegut! Godspeed!

So it goes.

It’s really easy to get caught up in life’s turmoils. These days, for instance, I’ve been keeping exceedingly busy with work, Gilda’s Riders, wedding plans and house upkeeping. But today, I was stopped in my tracks. I was researching my book to get ideas for Livestrong Day in May; Gilda’s Club asked me to participate in their event by sharing my story. As I was flipping through the pages of “Cancerboy”, time stood still. I read passages and remembered exactly where I was and how I felt. I thought about where I am now, and how different my life would be if I never had cancer.

I get the feeling that everything in my life happened to get me here. There have been no wasted events. My eyes – at least for the moment – have opened to the broader spectrum. It’s cool.

As I work 56 hours per week,
As Sheryl and I plan our wedding trip to New England , and our subsequent gathering with family and friends,
As we paint and replace and remodel sections of our house,
As we coordinate and plan the 2nd Annual Gilda’s Riders event,
As I try to train – riding more than 15 miles a couple times per week and lifting weights,

I am living my life to the fullest. I am setting a standard. I am being a role model.

I am a proud, happy cancer survivor, and never want life to pass me by.

Day Zero, Year Five

With the MC5 screaming in my ears, I am ready to testify.

Today starts a seven month celebration. Of my life.

Ziggy Stardust recorded a moving song called “Five Years”. It tells about how the world will cease to exist in five years time. It’s true. It happened to me.

Five years ago today, I was diagnosed with stage 2 Hodgkin’s lymphoma. The world I knew five years ago no longer exists.

My transformation started with the phone call I made to my mother. I was sitting in my boss’ office. He was strategizing how we would complete one of his many outrageous goals. I stopped him, rudely dialing numbers on my cell phone as he spoke. When my mom answered the other end, I said simply (while maintaining eye contact with my boss): “It’s confirmed. Hodgkin’s, Stage 2.” Shortly afterwards, I hung up with my mother. Shortly afterwards, I left my boss’ office. Without completing his strategy.

There would be many, many turning points along the way. In fact, every day was a turning point:

* The head oncology nurse checking my veins to see if they were good enough to endure four cycles of brutal chemotherapy. And providing me a video that would tell me how to give myself daily injections of Neupogen.
* The blur of chemo education on my first day of treatment.
* Feeling like shit for 10 days after treatment, having one or two days of feeling human again – just prior to getting another treatment.
* Not having enough energy to go grocery shopping – yet doing it anyway.
* Sweating and smelling chemicals day after day.
* Pissing red during and after each treatment.
* Putting on my brave face every time I contacted my friends and family.
* Trying to talk my sister into taking my treatment for me.
* Spending a lot of time with myself and my thoughts, coming to the realization that if I survived, I’d have to change silly habits and self-destructive rituals.

After treatment – October 23, 2002 – I had learned how to live life. It was now up to me to practice living as it was meant to be lived. Every day since has felt like a warm Spring breeze (although some days the breeze has blown stiffly and others it’s barely blown).

I stopped the mental abuse that had become my personal mantra. I sought things that I wanted. I took risks. I gave back to my community. I gave back to my cancer brethren – sometimes getting my heart broken in the process.

But I was alive, and embraced each opportunity and emotion. My heart, my head, my eyes and ears – pulsed with life.

I was in the middle of a growth period (aka, unemployed and in the midst of shattering my credit while trying to make success happen by working on my book) when I met Sheryl.

Five years ago, I would not have allowed myself the opportunity to embed myself in this girl’s life – and that would have been a critical, miserable mistake.

My transformation will continue for as long as I live. But this year – this next seven months – will be the anti-Hodgkin’s. I am marrying Sheryl, and we will both celebrate not only our life together, but our personal lives as well. And one way that we will celebrate LIFE is by trying to make my growing number of brethren more comfortable and provide them more support through Gilda’s Club and our Gilda’s Riders fundraiser.

In turn, I hope with all of my heart, that these people will have the chance to live life and celebrate Year Five.

And hopefully, they will mark that year with a long bike ride while raising funds for Gilda’s Club…

Dumb America

I just read a news article that Geico’s cavemen are being slated for a sitcom pilot.

It got me to thinking: Why is this newsworthy?

And what does Paris Hilton think?

And what does CNN think about Paris Hilton’s thoughts on it?

And why the frick SHOULD CNN care?!?!

So this is what happens where there isn’t a ground war to report about.

Oh wait, there IS a ground war to report about!

So what the hell is going on?

Why is America – why am I – dumbing down?

I blame Al Gore’s internet.

With news – real and imagined – available on the internet 24/7/365, we’re getting “newsed out”. There is no new news to report anymore. Someone has Saddam’s execution recorded on his cellphone in real time and a half hour later, we’re all watching it on YouTube.

Our idea of news has been skewed beyond recognition… or has it just morphed into all-out entertainment?

It is becoming more and more important in our country to get a college degree. So let me raise two issues:

1) Get rid of journalism degrees. Hell, all you need right now to “tell the news” is a cellphone and internet hookup. Heaven forbid you are astute enough to actually tell a story these days. We want the pictures, the blood and the guts! This brings me to:
2) Why?? We are the most powerful and best country in the world. We’re leading the world in democracy… and idiocy. We’re the most advanced… and fattest. We spend all this time studying and earning degrees, but how does that help our population and fellow man?

The Associated Press recently declared a moratorium on Paris Hilton. They will no longer report Paris Hilton activities unless they are deemed truly newsworthy. That alone should tell us something.

We are to blame for the downfall of our civilization. We killed Princess Diana by reading the tabloids that bought paparazzi pictures. We drove Britney Spears to the brink of insanity the same way.

Are you proud of yourself?

On my way into work today, I was thinking about my Dad, and about how happy I am. My Dad died 16 years ago in March, and for much of the last 4 years, I have wondered how my Dad would view my life and activities.

How would he have reacted to my cancer experience? How would he have reacted to my lack of job? My book?

The only thing I am sure of is that my Dad would have loved Sheryl. He would be happy for me where I am right now with my life.

I found myself thinking that I am possibly the happiest I have been in my life. I am certainly happier than I have been for quite a few years, that’s for sure!

Each night, I’ve taken to praying. I know that there are angels who surround Sheryl and I. And so I thank them for each day, and each opportunity. I even ask them to help me attain my goals, and to help Sheryl and I to stay happy and healthy for many, many years.

So Dad, wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, I thank you for your patience and support.

One in a Million

I’m not usually the speediest person when it comes to new technology, but I eventually jump on the bandwagon. Just over a year ago, Sheryl gave me an iPod for Christmas, and only recently, I’ve begun listening to podcasts.

So far, I subscribe to three podcasts: Wilco, livemusic.com, and the NPR series, “My Cancer”.

Sometimes, I wonder why I torture myself listening to Leroy Sievers’ narratives of his cancer experience. Yet at the same time, I find myself sitting, listening intently, and nodding my head.

It’s a bittersweet experience – like reminiscing about a lost love, or a fond tragedy.

I’ve always said that I believe everyone’s got a story inside them. Some of us just have the ability to let it out. My story happened to come out via “Cancerboy”, and through this blog.

Last week, I was surprised by a box that came in the mail. It was from a friend of mine, whom I don’t see very often. Yet, when she found out that I had been through the cancer experience, she was moved to tears. In the box, I found a LiveStrong coffee mug. My friend said that she saw it and thought of me.

At that moment, I was forced to think about how we impact other people. I never think of myself as having much influence over anything, but by sharing my story, I influenced and impacted the lives of others. Yeah, it may appear obvious to you but how many times do you think about how you impact others yourself?

Leroy Sievers is doing that, too. He’s sharing his story and making an impact on peoples’ lives. I listen to his story because it connects me to all of the other cancer survivors in the world by reminding me where I’ve been, and that we are never really alone.

I am...

On a whim, I decided to Google myself. Yeah, it sounds perverted, but whatever...

While glancing through over 20 pages of Matthew Cummingses, I learned important things about me.

For instance, I am currently attending Marshall Univerity. I ran two or more marathons. I am a police officer in two different cities in different states. I am not only a writer, but I am also a photographer and an actor. I am a high school basketball coach.

Not only that, but I simultaneously live in Pennsylvania, California, Virgina, West Virginia and Texas - in addition to Michigan and England.

Although I am going to school at Marshall, I already have a degree from Iowa State, Brody School of Medicine and Case Western Reserve College.

I am an administrator for the Yellow Pages, a spy, and have appeared in many newspaper stories.

Strangely enough, I was also a participant at the Battle of Bunker Hill (I was always a survivor!).

I am a glass blower and attend Edinboro University.

Essentially, I am everything that I want to be.

So the next time you ask yourself, "who am I?", drop by Google.com - you'll be surprised at how much you've accomplished!

Ticking Time Capsule

A couple of years ago, I had a picture taken of me, which was placed in the Lewiston , Michigan library time capsule.

If I had an opportunity to put together a time capsule of my life so far, here is what it would likely contain:

* A picture of me (as a baby), my mom and dad
* One of many stories I wrote in 3rd grade… perhaps my report on Christmas…
* A baseball mitt
* A bicycle
* A prosthetic nose
* A bottle of Hefe-Weizen beer
* A bottle of tequila
* A box of 1974 Topp’s baseball cards
* “Cancerboy”
* Darts
* A Gilda’s Riders jersey
* My concert tickets
* A picture of me and Sheryl
* An iPod programmed with my fave tunes

There are a million things that we could hope to put in our personal time capsules…

What would you put in yours?

Cold Weather Breakdown (Jan 2007)

I’m having a cold weather breakdown today. I don’t know how to explain it, but I am sick and tired of cold weather. It is all too easy for me to imagine a balmy 70+ degrees outside with humidity.

Yes, I am extremely aware that we’ve had a mild winter so far, and that the winter weather only truly hit us a few weeks ago, but that doesn’t help my angst.

I had an awful time getting out of bed this morning, and I can’t concentrate. I’m cold, although the room temp is 70 degrees. All I want to do is curl up in bed and sleep. And eat. And sleep.

My skin is cracking. My lips are cracking and my skin is drier than normal. I’d cry, but my tears immediately dry up.

Ugh! When is Spring? March 21??

Wake me on the 22nd.

Media, schmedia

Media sucks. I hate the spin that it puts on stuff, and I hate how powerful it is.

The other day, I realized that I was watching too much TV news. When I’m up in the mornings, I’m already grumpy. Then I hear stories about A-HOLES WHO DO STUPID STUFF. Interject some cutesy between-story banter and I am ready to VOMIT.

Why do I subject myself to that torture in order to see the weather and/or traffic?

Why don’t I go to accuweather.com, or weather.com? Why don’t I go to traffic.com, or autoclubgroup.com? Why don’t I use something else for eye candy while I eat my oatmeal?

I guess that is something to work on.

The local news isn’t actually my bitch for this blog. Rather, it’s the power of news.

The French news has long had issues with Lance Armstrong. They hated the fact that he dominated their Tour de France for seven years.

Rather than accept that the guy was talented, they blamed performance enhancing drugs.

That’s all fine and dandy… it’s in the past (I hope!). But just before the 2006 Tour de France, a Spanish news source wrote a story about how nearly all of the top-runners for the Tour were implicated in a doping scandal. 12 contenders were booted from the race.

American Floyd Landis then wins the Tour with an incredible stage victory in the mountains.

And what happens? French papers publish a story saying that Floyd was jacked on testosterone during that stage win. Floyd was immediately guilty and is still trying to prove his innocence.

A Spaniard named Oscar Pereiro is poised to step in as 2006 Tour winner if Landis’ appeals fall through. However, this week, French news reported that Pereiro tested positive during the Tour for ASTHMA MEDICINE.

Pereiro states that he was given authorization for his medication and can provide it. Unfortunately, the damage is already done. WHY is ASTHMA MEDICINE grounds for condemning someone before obtaining all necessary information? Are the French so insecure about their cycling program that they need to implement such devious tactics?

I’ll tell you this: I have ridden a number of long, agonizing rides in my life, and I give kudos to those who can RACE such long rides, let alone RIDE them. Jacked or not.

Yes, I said it.

Jacked or not.

What I do care about, though, is that good peoples’ lives are being ruined as a result of certain types of media. Whatever happened to fairness and Walter Cronkite-type ethics? Why have we become a society of pomp and flash? Of careless, non-responsible reporting? And most importantly…

Why does Fox 2 News give Al Allen all of the crappy stories?

Do angels have birthdays?

For years, a boy ran around town, having fun and playing.
He kept busy, as he never wanted to be bored.
There were two reasons for this:
1) He didn’t like to be bored; and
2) He was afraid that he’d realize how alone he was.
One day, while playing, a shiny light caught the boy’s attention and he failed to see the wall until it was too late –
WHAM!
The wall hit him like it was a ton of bricks.
Forget the fact that it really was a ton of bricks – you get the point.
Anyhow, as the boy laid in bed recovering from his wounds,
He began to understand how lonely he really was.

The boy wasn’t really sad, though, he figured that if he was meant to find someone special he would – whether or not he wanted to.
Once he healed, the boy decided to donate some of his time to a charity that helped others who ran into walls.
One day, while working at Builda’s Club, the boy was introduced to a kind-hearted girl.
They chatted a bit, and after they had gone their separate ways, the boy knew he had just met someone special.

But the boy had stuff to do… he had some playing to take care of.
And so he played and played a bit more.
One day, someone asked him if he kept in touch with the special girl.
He hadn’t, so he decided to e-mail her and say hi.

As things go, the boy and girl ended up dating.
The boy was selfish, though, and found that although he requested crazy things from the special girl – such as frog’s lips or chicken’s nipples – she found a way for him to have them.

At night, when the boy went to bed, he found himself wondering more and more:
Was this girl really an angel in disguise??

So when he saw her, he would look for clues:
Did she hide her wings? Did she have a warm, comforting smile? Did he feel best when he was around her?
And more often than not, the answers were “yes”.

The boy found himself falling in love… something he wasn’t entirely familiar with.
But she was patient with him… angels do that, too.
He asked her to marry him, and be his angel for the rest of his life.
She said yes.

Apparently, no one really knows if angels have birthdays.
On January 23, 2007, the world will find out for sure.

No matter to the boy, really.
It’s just another day.
Another day to make sure his angel knows how much he loves her.

Yes, he will possibly try to spoil her, too.
Maybe he’ll take her out to dinner.
Maybe he’ll take her out of town.
Maybe he’ll write a story about a little boy and a special girl
And tell the world that he loves her.

Happy Birthday, Sheryl. I love you, baby!

Having a Mid-Life Crisis?

Not me! I had my first mid-life crisis at the age of 11, when the family dog bit my nose off. The joy and fun of childhood ended then and there. From that moment on, I was an adult – and not a very happy one at that.

So I turned my anxieties into dreams and goals. I worked towards those dreams and goals, rarely aware of what I was doing. One day, BAM! A goal was achieved. Another day, BAM! Another one down! And so it happened: BAM! BAM! BAM!

Misery was displaced by achievement and satisfaction. Not REplaced, mind you… just DISplaced.

I focused on changing the world and being a good role model for my nieces and nephews. After all, I would never be a parent.

It was about that time that Thomas Hodgkin decided to hand me my second mid-life crisis: Hodgkin’s Disease.

I soaked that summer in chemotherapy and Neupogen, watching as my goals and dreams melted along with my cancer tumors. My misery magnified.

It grew and grew, magnified until the inevitable happened:

It imploded and ate itself.

Yesterday, I sat with a whole new life ahead of me. Today, I sit with a whole new life ahead of me. Tomorrow will bring the same.

29 years ago today, a little boy lost his nose and his innocence. He lost the definition of joy and unadulterated happiness.

But today, thanks to that little boy, and Thomas Hodgkin, I’ve allowed myself to lower the guard, to let Sheryl in, and as a result, I am happier than I’ve been for most of my life.

Arguments and Aggrievances

I used to be extremely passionate before I got cancer. I would argue about anything close to my heart. In fact, I once got into a bunch of trouble for telling my boss that the way he wanted to do something was asinine. I still think that, but I would handle things differently now.

For example, I busted my butt on my first project at the new job, and thought that the end result was awesome. However, the customer thought otherwise, and made suggestions that I feel “dumb down” the project. It’s pretty silly, actually.

However, they are the customer, and my response is “whatever they want” - whereas some of the people I work with are ready to argue for what’s already been accomplished.

The bottom line is that there is a time to argue, and there is a time to not. Cancer helps you to re-evaluate what’s important.

This is a common understanding with Sheryl, too. With her experience in the cancer world, she sees, too, what is worth arguing about and what isn’t. Sometimes, I will try to get her to argue with me for the sake of working something out in my head, and she won’t even bite.

Most times, when Sheryl and I disagree about something, one or the other will relent almost immediately. After all, is it really important to win the argument? Is it important to lose?

It all comes out in the wash, and usually, no good comes from heated arguments.

Should I be passionate about this project at work? Yeah, a little, but it’s WAY more important to me to keep this job.

Now before it is suggested that I am simply a candy-ass, let me ask one question:

Does it matter whether I am or not?

Not to me, it’s not.

Carpe' De Living Room

At 5:30am today, I sat, contemplating me – and why I do some of the things that I do.

See, I had been figuring out what I wanted to accomplish during the day ahead of me, and thought about what I had accomplished yesterday.

After I got home from work yesterday, I tried to achieve every possible thing I could before sitting down in front of the TV for the night. After all, once I get there, it’s tough to get back up!

So I worked out, I made a couple of phone calls, I took returnables out to the garage, I washed dishes… By the time Sheryl came home, I was mostly done with everything. And yep, sure enough, I sat down in front of the TV.

The weird thing is that I’m not used to having so much time on my hands. When I worked in hell, my hours were typically 9:30am to 6:15pm. I completely under-utilized my time. I stayed up late, woke up late, and was completely lethargic. After all, I wasn’t doing something I wanted – something that excited me. I always felt like I never had enough time to do things around the house, or spend time with Sheryl.

Because of my cancer experience, I’ve developed the urge to milk as much out of each day as I can. This urge was squashed during the last year.

Yes, I still wanted to accomplish as much as possible, but the job drained me, and I finished each day as a lump of Jell-o.

Last night, I laid in bed and wondered if I made the most out of my day. I felt that I hadn’t, even though I had tied up a lot of loose ends.

My life is re-invigorated with this new job. I am excited about life and all of the great things to do. Sheryl and I have been able to do things I’ve wanted to do for a very long time, and I’m ecstatic about taking her out of town for her birthday at the end of this month.

I am energized every day. It is a beautiful feeling, but yet when 5:30am rolls around, I find myself wondering:

Am I taking carpe’ diem a little too seriously?

Issues

When I get to my awesome job in the morning, it’s typically around 7am. This poses a few potential issues for me.

First, keep in mind that I’m a night person. Man, I love my nights. I love being awake when everyone is asleep. Ironically, I feel the same way in the morning, but in the morning, I am usually struggling to wake up, so the magic eludes me until night time.

So, in order to get to work at 7am, I have to get up at 5am. Granted, much of this time is spent puttering around – all I’ve really got to do is eat breakfast and take a shower. Combined, that takes me 35 minutes. Add to that my 20 minute drive to work, and I could technically get up at 6:05am.

But… I like to take a little time to wake up before taking a shower. I check e-mail, listen to the radio, and sometimes make lunch or wash dishes. It’s all good.

The problem comes around 1:30pm. See, by the time I get to work, I am highly focused on what I want to accomplish, and energized. This is partially because of my morning crankiness – a trait that keeps people away from me.

So I bust my ass all morning long… working, working, working… at 11:30 I eat lunch. And then the productivity slows. Then proceeds to get worse and worse, until between 1:30 and 3pm, I am seriously ready for a nap!

Once I get home – approximately 4pm – I have a perfect opportunity to take a nap! Yay! However… if I take a nap, I know that I’ll be getting to bed after 11pm, making my 5am alarm WAY too early!

So then I have to decide… is it worth the risk, or do I ride/work out instead? The ride/work out will energize me! HooHa! And I’ll be ready for the evening.

So as I sit here contemplating my options/potential issues, I’m thinking that instead of a nap, and instead of a ride/work out…

I may plop my tired ass on the recliner and watch Seinfeld re-runs while shoveling macaroni and cheese down my gullet, which will effectively ruin my option to ride/work out because riding/working out after eating is like swimming after eating, and if I know one thing, I certainly don’t want to spend my evening puking.

Pass the remote.

A Prayer for 2007

Dear God, and all of the angels that surround us –

Thank you so much for all of the amazing things you provided and helped us with in 2006. We are so blessed, lucky and happy, and we cannot express our appreciation enough.

Since we do realize our blessings, we look forward to giving back in 2007. With personal and financial support of charities, and trying to make this world a better place with our presence.

Please allow us to continue living life completely. This will allow us to give the most of ourselves. One such wish is to help us stay healthy, and become healthier in mind and body.

Please also help those who bless us with their love and friendship to stay healthy as well.

Please allow us the peace of mind and focus to foster greatness in the things that we do. This will allow us to inspire others to greatness as well. As such, we request stability in our jobs, and lives, creating harmony within which we can work and create for the betterment of others.

We look to 2007 with hope and excitement, looking forward to great achievements and learning new things.

Please bless us with guidance to be better people and an ability to affect our world in a positive way.

Thank you for everything.
Amen.

Closin' Up '06

As 2006 comes to a close, and I begin to anticipate how amazing 2007 will be, I wanted to briefly look back one more time.

My favorite events of 2006:
* Sheryl moving in / Our decision to get married
* My surprise birthday party
* Vacation in Denver
* Starting a real job
* The Gilda’s Riders’ trip to Mackinaw City

My favorite musical events:
* Roger Waters at the Palace of Auburn Hills
* Nine Inch Nails/Bauhaus at DTE Energy Theatre
* Stewart Francke at the Scarab Club
* The Hard Lessons at Gilda’s Club
* The Hard Lessons at the Arts, Beats and Eats

The Show I Wanted to Badly See, Yet Still Missed:
* The Secret Machines at the Magic Bag

My favorite new-found music:
* Boards of Canada
* The Secret Machines “Ten Silver Drops”
* Angels & Airwaves
* David Gilmour “On An Island ”
* Edgar Froese solo works
* Jerome Froese solo works

My most frequented websites:
* Cyclingnews.com
* Pink is the New Blog
* Post Secret
* Stereogum
* Retrocrush

My favorite television shows:
* Heroes
* Nip/Tuck
* Most Haunted
* In-season cycling
* In-season football
* Hockey – a people’s history (on CBC)
* Canada Russia ’72 (on CBC)

Goals for 2007:
* Make sure Sheryl gets treated best as possible
* Complete web development course at New Horizons
* Gilda’s Riders 2007 raising a minimum of $20,000
* Logging in 1,500+ miles on my bike
* Being happy as much as possible

Have a most excellent 2007 everyone! Be safe!

Tales of Santa, part 3

So… what the heck does Santa Claus do in North Pole, Colorado ?

It is well known that Mrs. Claus loves to ski. As such, Santa and friends enjoy some vacation time there at the base of Pike’s Peak .

Now, although it’s supposed to be a vacation, Santa still hangs out with the children, finding out what they want for Christmas (If you’re reading, Santa, I would like a new vehicle to take me to and from my new job!), and he spends some time in his workshop. Mrs. Claus and the elves are really the ones who vacation, and Santa is cool with that. He realizes that he’ll have his chance to chill the week following Christmas. That’s when he goes to Hawaii , where he loves to sit on the beach with a mai tai and take long naps on the hammock on his covered patio.

You may be wondering how Santa can afford to have so many different places – and that’s a great question. Many people have bequeathed some of these homes to Santa in their will. Howard Hughes was rumored to have given Santa a sackful of money to fund development of a state of the art toyshop. D.B. Cooper is said to have donated his home to Santa when he died. Needless to say, Santa was forced to hire Prycewaterhouse and Coopers to manage his finances – and this was back in the 1950s!

Hey! I just received an e-mail from Santa. Since he’s been enjoying my postings about him, he wanted me to pass this along:

Hey Matt!
Greetings from THE North Pole! The elves and I have been working feverishly to get the last minute stuff taken care of. Like many shoppers, some of these elves wait until the last minute to get their stuff done. Man, talk about stress!
If you write another blog telling the kind people about me, please let them know that I am looking forward to cookies and milk during my trip! Hehehe… the Mrs. keeps on me about my weight, and she says that I should join you and Sheryl on one of your bike rides. Can you see me on a bike??
Anyway, remind everyone that I’m doing last minute updates on the good/bad thing. There are a few surprises on the Naughty list, and they have just a few days to make it to the Nice list!
Take care, buddy. We’ll see you soon!
Kris

Well, there you have it, folks… just a few stories about Santa. Hope you’ve been good enough to be on that Nice list – I know I have!

If the events of the last few weeks had never occurred, you would be reading a completely different blog entry.

However, since I was blessed with the job I’d been seeking for four years, I can truly say that 2006 has been a good year.

I began the year jobless, and fortunately started working at a payday advance company. I hated the job with a passion, and fumbled my way along without interest or desire to achieve success. The job paid some bills and that was all that mattered.

During the month of April, I prepped the house for a new inhabitant. Sheryl and I had decided to move in together, and as every other step in our relationship, this one felt comfortable and seemed “right”.

In June, I celebrated my 40th birthday with family, friends and tequila. This was the first party that Sheryl and I held jointly, and it won’t be the last.

As the year flew by, I busied myself with plans for Gilda’s Riders. In addition to planning this fundraiser, I also had to train for it, so riding quickly came back into my life – which I loved!
Around the same time we completed a very successful Gilda’s Ride, I began to care about my job. And the store numbers began to prove it.

I realized that I really can do anything that I put my mind to, and decided to take classes in web development. It was then that I was devastated when my boss faxed me a “termination counseling” form stating that despite my store’s growth and success, I would be terminated on Dec. 23 if I didn’t sell a number of piece of shit re-loadable debit cards.

The following week, I was blessed with my new job, and happily e-mailed my resignation.

So what did I learn from 2006?
1) It is possible to be truly happy. For more than a moment or two… it’s possible to be truly happy for a number of days in a row.
2) In order to achieve happiness, we have to struggle. That makes the taste of happiness sweeter.
3) Dreams come true. But sometimes they take years to come together.
4) Patience never comes fast enough. But when it does, whoo boy, it’s worth it!

What were my accomplishments for 2006?
1) Gilda’s Riders brought together 12 people who raised $10,000 for Gilda’s Club Metro Detroit. It was a helluva struggle, but with the help of Sheryl, Jon and Sue, it came together beyond my expectations.
2) My store at Advance America grew from 110 customers to 138 once I started caring about my job. Our bad debt dropped from over $12,000 a month to under $2,000 before I left. These successes come from having compassion and respect for the customer. In that type of job, those two things are easy to forget.
3) And personally, I feel like my best accomplishment was asking Sheryl to marry me. As I mentioned before, everything we’ve done has been comfortable and makes sense to us spiritually and logically. Quite simply, my life would not be as good as it is today without her.

More thoughts on 2006 (and 2007!) to come…

Tales of Santa Claus, part 2

As I mentioned, I have been fortunate to make Santa's acquaintance, and through some of these visits, I have learned some things that people probably aren't aware of.

One such thing is the actual number of locations that Santa spends his time at. He has a place at the North Pole, but he also has a place in North Pole, Alaska (just outside of Fairbanks), and North Pole, Colorado (not far from Pike's Peak).

North Pole, Alaska is where Santa stops during his trek around the world in order to let the reindeer refuel. Since he covers so much ground in such a short period of time, those reindeer burn off a lot of calories. In order for them to stay strong enough for the full trip, Santa stops in North Pole, Alaska, where highly trained elves cultivate fields of flying reindeer food. Most of these fields are hidden by the plentiful forests, but every once in a while, if you cruise down Richardson Highway, you can sneak a peek of the flying reindeer food fields.

In the last few years, word has gone out about the health of the reindeer, and places have started selling magic reindeer food. Most of these are good quality reindeer snacks, but there have also been cases of bogus reindeer food. Of course, carrots are good for the deer, too.

More to come...?

Tales of Santa Claus, part 1

Throughout the last bunch of years, I have been meeting up with Santa Claus in often strange places and under strange circumstances.

Now, we all know that Santa has a list of good girls and boys, and we all know that he lives at the North Pole. But there are some things about Santa that not everyone knows. I will share with you some of the things I have learned about Jolly Ol' St. Nick.

Santa actually has three places that he stays at. Ironically, each one is called "North Pole". North Pole proper is where Santa, Mrs. Claus and the elves spend more of their time, making toys for the aforementioned good girls and boys.

Many people do not realize that Santa himself likes to keep his toymaking skills sharp. So nearly every day, he spends a few hours in the toyshop making toys. Santa is really cool about it, too. The elves are encouraged to learn new ways to make toys and make different kinds of toys. So Santa actually asks the elves to teach him some of these new techniques and stuff.

The biggest reason for his honing the craft of toymaking is in case Santa accidentally drops a bag of toys or if one of the reindeer accidentally step of them. Santa needs to repair the toys so the children don't get broken stuff!

Santa shared a story with me one time, which he called "the great Tickle Me Elmo fiasco". As he was speeding through California one year, one of the fighter jets that often escort him (see www.noradsanta.org), got too close and caused some unexpected turbulence. As a result, the bag that carried Tickle Me Elmo's fell thousands of feet, crashing into the desert.

This also happened to be the year that Tickle Me Elmo was all the rage, and EVERYBODY wanted one! So Santa told me that he had to fly around the surrounding areas and sprinkle emergency sleeping dust all over the place, to ensure he had enough time to fix the toys before delivering them!

He then called a few of his elite elves - who stay on shift for all of Christmas Eve just in case anything like this happens - and sent Donner and Blitzen off to retrieve the elves while he got started with the repairs. In a flash, all of the Tickle Me Elmo's were repaired to their original condition, and delivered only an hour later than expected!

So who knows... maybe YOUR Tickle Me Elmo was one of the bunch that Santa tells stories about!

More tales to come...?

The First Day...

Well, it's finally happened. I got a new job. Holy sh!t, it feels great!

I was told I had the job Thursday afternoon, and Friday I quit my job from hell (after signing the papers for the new job!) and started celebrating!! I start the new job Monday. Yay!!

This job is everything I wanted in a job for the time being, and it's a huge relief to finally be back into something I love.

My life has actually been a bit backwards from everyone else's. People seem to get into jobs/careers they hate, and then turn 40 and realize what they really want to do. I, on the other hand, got into work that I enjoyed, then by 40 was stuck into a crap job I didn't like!

But finally, that is over. As I've been telling Sheryl, this is the first day of our great life together. Previously, it had been good... Because of her, it's been good. But now, I feel like a kid who got all the Christmas presents he ever asked for!

The sun shines everywhere I look! :)

More soon!

How Does it Feel when You Accomplish Something Great?

This weekend, we accomplished the first Gilda’s Riders event. Although the event raised over $7,000 for Gilda’s Club Metro Detroit, I'm still a little numb and don’t really feel the gratification of doing something amazing.

Sheryl and I went to Mackinaw City on Friday, and once there, we headed to the island for a short stroll. After we got back, we registered for the ride, and drove the “parcourse”, so Sheryl would have an idea of what the ride entailed. By the time we got to the finish, she was scared, not sure of what she got herself into.

A little later, we went to dinner with Jon, Sue and Beth. The dinner was great, but the service really lacked. It was late, so we went back to the hotel and hit the hay.

Saturday morning, we got up too early, and got ready. The weather was gorgeous. Since 7 of our 12 riders were shooting for the 100 mile ride, we met at 7:15 for a team picture.

After pictures, we rolled out around 7:30. It was important for Sheryl to ride at her own pace, and the rest of us ended up dropping her relatively quickly. At the first downhill, I took a flier trying to warm up a bit before hitting the first hill. It felt great.

By the time we got to the first water stop, our group was down to 6. Although I was only riding 50 miles, I was keeping up pretty well with the 100 mile riders until we got to the real hills, where I got dropped. I kept close to the rest, and nearly caught the front 3 when the road split for the 50 mile course.

When I got to the first food stop, I was possibly within the first 10 to arrive. I lounged around a little bit, then continued down the road. The hills kept rolling, and my legs were getting very tired.

Aside from all this was the beauty surrounding me. The leaves were starting to change colors, and one of my favorite sections of the ride went through Wilderness National Park, where there are a number of sand dunes - a bit of the Sahara in the middle of Michigan!

As typical, I rode the rest of the ride by myself, averaging 14 miles per hour as I rode past the next water stop. The uphill grind was tearing my thighs apart, when I finally broke through to level ground.

Normally, on the long stretches of this ride, we have a head wind. This year, we were fortunate to have a tail wind instead. So I fiercely pedalled along - getting bored to the point where I began whistling to myself. I've NEVER whistled to myself on a bike ride before!

My neck and shoulders ached terribly, and I tried to relieve the pain by making circular motions with my arms. When I got to the last rest stop, I still felt strong, and knew I made the right decision to ride 50 miles. Still averaging nearly 14 mph, I finally rolled in at noon.

And what did I see??

Sheryl, smiling and waving to me. She did it - she rode her personal best 25 miles!! On top of that, she finished at 10:00am!

We lingered for a litle while, sharing stories of the road - my favorite part of the ride - then headed back to the hotel for a shower and change of clothes.

Once cleaned up, we went to the Keyhole Bar to eat and wait for other Gilda's Riders. We wolfed down some serious bar food, then broke our ice cream fast with a waffle cone. We were then ready to fall into a post-ride coma.

Around 6pm, Sue and Jon came by. We shared more stories of the road, and found out bit by bit that every one of our team members achieved their personal goals! It was VERY rewarding for me to hear that.

Six of us went to dinner at Audie's, and while we were finishing up our meals, a parade of trucks began.

Coming from the UP, these rigs blew their horns and lit up their trucks while circling Mackinaw City. It lasted at least an hour, as we completed our meals and headed back to our hotel, only to get stuck in the parade traffic!

Sheryl and I wound down the day by sitting at the campfire, sharing more stories of the day and talking about the potential of this event.

We headed to bed, and slept hard until we woke up at Sheryl's typical 5:45am.

We gradually packed up, grabbed breakfast, and headed back home.

Gilda's Riders - Mark 2006, is over.

We had many successes, many lessons learned, and a lot of excitement. Some of our riders were talking about doing it again next year - so that is encouraging.

But for me, it is time to refocus my energy on a job search, and darts. Over the next few weeks, we will ensure all of the monies have been properly attributed to our event, and then have a final tally. My original goals of 10 riders, and $7,000 have been exceeded. We had 12 riders, and the grand total is yet to be totaled.

The money we raised will be used to fund the programs at Gilda's Club Metro Detroit - a place that has helped me in so many ways. After all, I met my real-life angel there - Sheryl. And now we were able to give back a little bit.

So how does it feel when you accomplish something great?

It feels like there's something even greater to be achieved.

Stay tuned! :)

Rainy Day Dream Away

I want to begin this blog by thanking Kid Rock - his belief in my book, and his willingness to promote it to mass distribution.

Yeah, then I woke up - another one of my kooky dreams.

So this morning, we woke up to rain. We've needed rain for a while, and of course, it decides to water the grass the same day that we're supposed to have a training ride with Frankie Andreu!

Ah well, hopefully we'll reschedule before the big ride in three weeks.

Ride-wise, things are finally in slow-down mode. We are hitting up our donors and training. The jerseys are being printed and our sponsors really came through for us. I am really proud to have been able to work with Sheryl, Jon and Sue during the planning of this event. They have certainly made my vision become a reality!

My brother and his family came home for the weekend from Atlanta. It is always so good to have the family together, and we had the profound opportunity to do that last night. With everyone finally doing well, it appears that the only thing that needs to happen yet for our family is for me to get a real job. And it appears that it will likely happen sometime soon.

I've finally gotten a number of good leads, and I look forward to getting back into the business!

Dart season is coming up soon, too. We had our banquet from last season on this past Friday, and it was a little strange... see, in order to bring in a couple of new players into the league, we had to split up our team, which I had come into the league with. Hopefully, though, we can grow the league into one that is bigger and better as a result. One never knows!

Life is good right now. With all the job leads, there is a lot of hope. I can't wait to finally do the things with Sheryl that I've always wanted to do... like travel, go to nice restaurants, and even buy her the occasional floral bouquet. She just ordered her first pair of bike shorts today, so it looks like we're on tap to do more riding together.

I wonder if there are people out there still reading this blog besides Nicole. I want to thank anyone who does read this for their patience. It's been a crazy summer planning Gilda's Riders, and I haven't been able to keep up with everything.

On one more note, August 31 will be the 4th anniversary of my last chemo treatment. October 23, 2007 will be my official five year anniversary.... Ho-lee shizzle...

So what comes next after Gilda's Riders? Well, perhaps Gilda's Riders 2. More importantly to me, however, I will be working on a cancer survivor program. The one I need still eludes me, so maybe it's up to me to make it happen.

What do I need exactly? I don't know. But what I do know is that there is still a lot of crap in my head that needs to be straightened out. See, it appears that life is good and well - which it is - but inside, there are still a lot of issues I need to resolve. But whatever I've got to say about that will have to wait for another day.

Until then, I'll dream away...

Blah Blah Blog...

Blogging has been a great way to express myself and keep my writing chops in shape.

However, there has been so much on my plate lately, that it's been difficult to keep up. As it is, I am writing this on my Palm while passing time at 41B district court in Mt. Clemens.

My days are spent at a job that I despise, and clouds my vibrance while sucking the life out of me.

Ever since my cancer experience, I never expected to be in such a position. However, I do it because I have to - I cannot quit because of my commitment to Sheryl and my house - wait, did I just use "commitment" and "Sheryl" in the same sentence??

Anyhow, this sucky job is also building character... apparently, I need more character...

Believe it or not, the purpose of this blog is not to bitch about my job... rather, it is also to speak about the successes we are having with Gilda's Riders. As I began saying - before I spun WAY off tangent - my days are spent at work, and once I get home, I eat, then make my way through bunches of e-mails - most of which I am immediately unable to respond to.

Most of these e-mails revolve around Gilda's Club / Gilda's Riders.

Because we got a late start on the event, we're rushing around like crazy. However, we've been successful in securing sponsors, and getting our jerseys in line. Finally, we are seeing fruits of our labor!

Next steps include group rides and attracting more riders and donations. If you are interested at all in making a tax-deductible donation to Gilda's Riders, you can send checks to Gilda's Club Metro Detroit, or you can donate online - just make sure you mention "Gilda's Riders" in the memo fields!

Come September 19, I will be in a position to write about something else.... or will I? Hmmm...

I can't wait to find out!

The Road to Forever

At what point did time start moving so fast? I've neglected this site so badly that my one or two readers are probably off reading something else at this point...

I'll pause a moment for them to come back...

Hmmmm... just a moment more, then I gotta move on with this.

Hello? Okay, well, I guess we're the only ones here now.

So my life these days has been consumed by the bike, Gilda's Club and the job that I really don't like. And because summer nights always get me in a contemplative mood, here I am contemplating things...

I met an amazing woman Saturday - Heidi Adams, the brains behind www.planetcancer.com. Although we have communicated via e-mail on occasion (mostly my saying that she really needed to have my book for sale on her website!), she probably didn't recognize me or my name. Nonetheless, she asked me what I was up to, and I told her about the job and the Gilda's Riders event. Her response - so you're still feeding your soul - nailed where I seem to be right now.

I feel like I am momentarily caught in a job that nurtures mediocrity. And my destiny is far from simple mediocrity - I truly feel that I am destined for greatness... but I need to find that greatness and let it out.

Gilda's Riders is a good step in that direction, and I try to keep that in mind.

Yep. Greatness is within my grasp... I just need to quit flailing about and grab the damn thing!

In the meantime, I'll bide my time, enjoy each day for what it is worth and watch the cosmos for opportunities of brilliance...