What's he REALLY been doing the past month?

Seems there's been a litany of things to blog about the past month, each worthy of a complete entry unto themselves. Problem is, they come and go so quickly and are so numerous, I don't get the chance to sit down and get my thoughts down about them before the next blog-worthy incident occurs...

Those of you that bother to waste your time reading through my overly-verbose, rambling, and often incoherent musings, know that I rarely just jot down a word or two about any given subject. I practically deluge them with similes, anecdotes, details, background, and clever (at least to me) witticisms, turning what could easily be a couple sentences into a novel of epic length...

Oh well, you're the suckers that decide to keep scrolling down your screens!

Anyway, I write more for myself and my posterity. I like my style, my vocabulary, and my subject matter – while not necessarily anyone else's cup of tea – is extremely interesting to me...

But now – ON TO THE BLOG!..

Disclaimer: The following blog is not kind simply because I know he will be reading this (Hi Paulie!), but because these are my honest feeling and thoughts. Yes, I will likely leave out any horrid details about the seething, dark underbelly of his habits and personality, but I won't cloak any negative thoughts in a veil of flowery, backhanded compliments. If my tone seems to disguise a negative perception of him at times, rest assured you're reading too much into it. I have nothing but love and respect for the guy...

I've been voyeuristically following my friend Paulie's life and blogs from a distance for several months now. The first thing you must understand about Paulie is that he is, for all intents and purposes, the incarnation of my inner-child. He and I have a lot in common creatively, perceptively, and spiritually. While we have lead very different lives and upbringings to the point when we met, the only real reasons we are currently different in many ways are due to a combination of several minutely different choices in life paths. I went the way of the hard-working family man, trying like hell to become a positive influence on the world by setting a good example (most of the time), and he the rout of the more free-wheeling bachelor, trying to inspire the world to be free-thinkers and create happiness by fulfilling your own dreams while respecting and encouraging others' dreams as well. We share similar values, tastes, and passions...

Her just gets to have more fun than I do…..

Paulie has always wanted to be a rock star. Well, honestly, who the hell hasn't? Paulie, however, has been striving towards it as long as I have known him. He's played bass in a few working local bands, written songs, and now he's actually working on preparing an album and saving the cash to have it properly fleshed out and produced in a studio...

He's gotten a lot of criticism for it, too. He's 28, gainfully double-employed working as a waiter, living in his parents' attic, and though he has a degree, is not using it (though I know SEVERAL people that can't find a use for their degree other than hanging it over the hole on the wall – but that's another blog entirely). Many (notably several in his own family) view him as a directionless lay-about, sponging off his parents and rapidly going nowhere with his life...

I SORELY contest this conclusion. Within the past year, Paulie has made several very big decisions to change the momentum of his life, while maintaining the (often ignored by many) direction in his life. He's moved back home from a rather poor financial situation in Atlanta, working more, drinking less, exercising, saving money, assessing his priorities with a critical eye, and generally decided to take a pragmatic look at his life without quashing his dreams in the process. You have no idea how much I admire him for that...

So many of us, when in our early twenties, are staring down two paths: dreams and responsibility. Very few are lucky enough to have a career in mind that we actually have a passion for, as opposed to a mere tolerance to do to get by. He has chosen to forge his own path in between the two, working as is necessary, but towards an end he has a passion for. I applaud Paulie for giving power to his dreams, while not sitting on his lazy (and he most certainly is that) ass, not ever giving thought to bettering himself or making his own living...

Recently, while taking one of my twice/thrice weekly self-imposed exiles to the coffee shop to read and chill between dropping Liam at school and heading to work, I got a call from dear 'ol Paulie B.. He said his album's going fine, but he need some work on his vocals and was wondering if I could be his vocal coach...

"Um…ahh.., ME!?"..

Sure, I sing barbershop and have a good music ed. background, but I ain't no friggin' Pavarotti! My solo voice sucks, and I rarely dare more than a drunken Sinatra song at the karaoke bar, all by my lonesome. I cannot be center stage vocally and only thrive as part of an ensemble. However, after thinking it over a bit, I agreed and we set up an evening to meet up...

Over the next several days, I found myself thinking, "what the hell can I teach HIM about vocal technique?!" I started rooting through the exercises I have picked up in barbershop (corny and cheesy, the lot of them ) and found that there were fundamental aspects of them I could use, as well as realizing I'd have little idea what he would want or need to sound like until I heard his songs...

We met on Wednesday night and he played me his stuff, and to my surprise, much of it was just plain great! Not that I was expecting them to be suck-ass garbage, mind you, but I was expecting some decent lyrics with simple melodies, centered around a single note, with very similar chord structure, that MAY have a radio ready track in there somewhere once it was fiddled with enough. ..

He played me his rough "blue prints" with only bass, guitar and his solo vocals, but what I heard in most of them was MOUNDS of potential. Most didn't need much more than percussion to fill them out. I listened to the chord structure and melody lines, and found a subtle complexity to them that was just begging for studio refinement...

Then I listened to his voice….

Paul's like me (or at least me 4 years ago): he has a bright, nasally sound that could cut glass, and while he can hear pitches well and tune a guitar relatively well without mechanical aid, he doesn't have a ton of pitch control in his voice. I sat and though, "Oh my God… I can FIX THIS! I can rebuild him! Better than he was before! Better. Stronger…MORE IN TUNE!" My mind began racing around a million and one fairly simple exercises to shore up his weaknesses. His head must have been a blur, because I was throwing one suggestion after another at him and giving him things to work on for the next week. All of the sudden, I FELT like a good (well, at least adequate) vocal teacher!

He offered me money for the lesson, which I gladly and greedily accepted (though in my heart, reluctantly at first). I wasn't sure going in that I could be of any help, and taking money from a friend for a favor is not something I'm in the habit of doing. Unfortunately, my time is sparse and I need to justify anything that isn't job, family, or household related with money in order to scale my ever-increasing mountain of bills. After our little get-together, though, I didn't feel so guilty. I have ideas that can and will work to get him closer to where he wants to be! I'm still not crazy about taking money to do something I enjoy for a friend who I don't get to see enough anyway, but while I feel a bit guilty for it as a friend, I don't have the added burden of professional guilt as well...

I'm genuinely excited about helping Paulie on this. He's open to ideas, eager to learn, humble about and aware of what he doesn't know, and appreciative of the input he gets. He's got some great songs, and a drive that'll ram through a brick wall...

I can't wait till our next lesson!

(Overdue) How Christmas Works in MY Family...

It's been over a month since I blogged, so I figure it's about time to ante up some info on my ponderings and goings on. I have a lot to cover, so bare with me here…

I'll start with an explanation of how Christmases work in my family nowadays…

The holidays were rough; both financially and schedule-wise, but not unpleasant. Not too big on the material gain/goody grab for yours truly (see my previous blog entry about my wish list), but fun on the whole and I got to spend some great time with my family – both immediate and extended. Being the only clan on both sides of the family currently with small children that still believe in Santa, everyone wants a piece of us every year. Having both sides of our family relatively close by (that is to say, within an hour's drive) doesn't help, as well as the fact the both Sonya and I have parts of Christmas traditions and gatherings that neither of us want to give up. This leads to us running around the lower quadrant of the state for 3 to 4 days like we're on a frantic road rally for our lives, attempting to please our families, each other, the kids, and ourselves to the best extent possible. Let me give you an example of the usual Christmas insanity we have turned into our traditional holiday mad-dash towards post-holiday exhaustion….

December 23^rd we usually spend grabbing the last of the forgotten gifts and goodie-makings for Christmas Eve. We say every year that we WILL not be doing this ON Christmas Eve, so we usually just barely beat our self-prescribed deadline to give us at least SOMETHING we can point to as accomplished.

Christmas Eve we spend most of the morning baking the last batches of fudge, cookies, and whatnot to contribute to my family's gathering down in Ida (about 50 minutes drive, just outside Monroe), and gather and wrap the last of the gifts for the few younger members of my extended family. Every year we insist this is the LAST year we buy stuff for the older of my cousins, who both are long past the "magic of Christmas" age and delving ever deeper into the "jaded fog of commercialism" stage. Regardless, we get them Blockbuster gift cards and maybe something token to fill it out. Who the hell knows what to get older teens/early twenty-somethings that doesn't require another mortgage of the house, anyway?

From there, about mid-afternoon, we drive out to Ida. The evening is pleasant, and spent eating good old-fashioned comfort food, chatting, catching up, reminiscing about fiascos from Christmases past, singing carols, and listening to the boys play video games in the basement. A good time is had by all. Then come the time (roughly 8 or so) to head home and plant the kids in bed so we can do the Santa bit.

We take off and pray the kids don't fall asleep too long on the ride home, so that getting them up to put out the milk and cookies and get them into bed isn't too much of a hassle. When they've set out fudge and milk for the Big Guy and some carrots for Rudolph and sufficiently hit their sugar-induced coma, we begin wrapping the kids stuff while watching Christmas movies (Usually Christmas Story for sentiment and Christmas Vacation for the tragic similarities – most notably Clark's rant about his boss near the end, which I recite by heart frequently and justifiably at work). We write out a note from Santa to the kids for them to find in the morning by the near-empty plate of cookies. Round about 1 or 2am, we hit the hay.

Christmas Day, we start out with the Rockwell-esque unveiling of the gifts, squeals of joy, and hopefully a decent breakfast of eggs and the traditional candy cane-shaped coffee cake her family has made every year – and coffee. LOTS of coffee! After basking in the glow of the kids faces for a while and watching them play with their loot, we pack up the presents for Sonya's family and drive to her parents' place for Christmas Day, Part Deux.

We arrive at Sonya's folks' place, and after dawdling for what seems an insufferable period to the kids (and often myself as well), we FINALLY get to the tree to pass out gifts there. This usually goes on for quite a while, as there are now 7 of us (Sonya, myself, the kids, her folks, and her brother), and we somehow feel the need to "ooh" and "ahh" at each gift for a few minutes before passing out the next. When the gift-giving is completed, it's off to prep for Christmas dinner.

Usually including Sonya's dad's cousins, Ruth & Neta, Christmas dinner is usually a flurry of cooking, clearing, cleaning, and such, but much time is spent (in between passing out h'ors duvres and setting the table, etc.) simply relaxing, munching, and chatting. The traditional meal of beef, potatoes, veggies, cranberry relish, and usually walnut-cheese cutlets for the vegetarians, is capped off with the Ferris' incredibly rich and filling Christmas Pudding, drenched in a molten buttery, sugary goodness of a sauce. 2 bites is enough to have you fasting till Groundhog Day to drop the extra pounds.

When the feast, subsequent groaning about overindulgence, and chatter are through, we pack up our gifts and hit the road. The kids are usually already in jammies and fall asleep on the drive home. We carry them into the house, drop them in bed, have a nightcap, and collapse on our bed in utter exhaustion. But it ain't over yet…

You'd think when Christmas is over, things calm down, right ? WRONG! Now that we've done the gift exchange with Sonya's family, it's time to do the gift exchange with my more immediate family. So, the day after Christmas we usually head to my grandfather's house in Bloomfield Hills to exchange gifts with him, my mother, and my uncle – usually over pizza. The day after Christmas is also the day my great-uncle and aunt usually have their Christmas family gathering at their place in Birmingham. When the calendar permits, we do my grandfather's in the early afternoon and my great-uncle's in the evening. Not so this year.

The day after Christmas I worked all day and we did my great-uncle's in the evening. It was nice, if a bit awkward. Usually a lot of extended relatives I only see once a year at just this gathering. I'm inevitably sucked into a conversation about how school is going, and have to regale them with my latest excuse and/or reason for not being done yet. This begs the perpetual reply of something akin to, "Aww, that's too bad. Well, keep pluggin' at it!" Ugh, to avoid that topic all together…

There's usually a gaggle of the younger crowd in the den, watching TV and Liam often wanders in there to show off his favorite toy and watch cartoons or whatever "guy stuff" they happen to be watching, while Courtney soaks up the adoration of the older folks and plays with whatever doll she brought. There's good food, once again, and family I have no problems with, but nothing particularly in common with. It's more obligation and habit than a real desire to go.

The next day was work, then to my grandfather's. My uncle was taking my grandfather and his friend to see White Christmas, so we got a late start. We gave some clever gifts that were well received. The kids got some neat toys, Sonya and I got money, and we had pizza – the usual. I was enjoying Christmas, but by this point, I just wanted to sit in front of the TV for half a day and catch my breath.

From there, a certain level of normality begins to take hold, with the slight bump of New Year's Eve. Usually Sonya's parents are happy to take the kids while we go to whatever gathering we've been invited to or just have a quiet evening at home. This year we had planned to drop the kids at their grandparents' in Flint, then head to a friend's house for a party a mere mile from their place.

Due to miscommunication and lallygagging, we didn't get the kids to their grandparents' til about 9. I drove them up myself, as the hour was getting late, our friend Leigh had come by, and the holidays had us completely worn to the bone. So we decided to forego the party in Flint and just spend New Year's at home with a friend. I did manage to stop by and make an appearance, drop a contribution to the party fare that Sonya had made, have couple bites of munchies, and a lovely, if brief, chat with Nyma and Todd. I got to see their perfect little house, as well (I was impressed - just so right for them).

After my stop in Flint, I headed back home and got back about ½ hour before the big moment. Sonya, Leigh, and I opened Champagne (1 good bottle and one ancient bottle we rightfully didn't expect to be consumable), shot off some leftover bottle rockets from the 4^th of July, and spent the next few hours just laughing, drinking, talking and watching movies. It was absolute, relaxing fun.

That, my friends, is how insane I am at Christmastime and why I haven't had much chance to blog. We should just alternate years between our families, I know. It would make things SO much less crazy. But we both love our traditions and don't want to miss anything if we can avoid it. Over the past several years we've both had to sacrifice pieces of it due to work, illness, or other obligations and it's left us a bit disappointed each time. Not to mention the inevitable hints of guilt trips we'd get (or at least feel) from whichever side of the family is spurned on any given year. Trying like hell to get 15-20 people happy and placated in one house has been a tradition on my mom's side for generations – and those are the Christmases I hold most dear in my memories.

…if I only knew the hell my parents and grandparents went through to make them that way.

Coming up (eventually): "Post-holiday stress disorder" or "How to fail miserably in business even though you're trying like hell" or "What's he REALLY been doing the past month?"!

(or some other useless bits of rubbish)