Quest for Cognizance

I live in Spartan country. My wife, several family members, and my closest friends are all Michigan State Spartan alumni. I'm not saying these people are just your average home-grown alumni. If you cut them they all would actually BLEED green & white.

Congrats to the 2007 Spartans on a season no one expected them to have. Sure, they lost to #14 Boston College on Friday in the Champs Sports Bowl 24-21, but they actually played in a BOWL this year. Four interceptions and a fumble just won't get it done. In any course, well done Dantonio. You've definitely impressed me and many others in the area.

Here's my dilemma: I was born and raised a University of Michigan sports fan. (grimace...) But what I've come to find out over the last few years is that I'm more of a home team fan. That may sound like someone just trying to smooth the way and stay on certain people's good side, but I really believe it's exactly how I feel when watching local sports. (And I really believe I'll probably catch a little hell from my buddies over this post.)

I'll root all day long for the Big Ten over any other league in the country - even though it feels like twisting a sharp dagger in my side to back Ohio State.

I'll take the Redwings over anyone in the league, unless they're out, and then I'm for the Central Division, or the Western Conference.

I gotta root for the Lions, well.... just because. A lesson in futility if I ever saw one. It's more fun to cheer on Brett Favre and the Packers.

What I've come to find out here in Spartan Country is the fans are as loyal as they come. The team has a down year...? So what. There's always next year.

Ok family and friends, here it is: I will admit to being a Spartan fan.

Unless they're playing U of M...

At the moment there are probably about 3.25 square feet of floor space in our living room free and clear to hop, skip, and jump on to make it from one end of the room to the other.

Vinnie and Abbey have both been in trouble for almost stepping on the kid (who happened to be sprawled out upon his blanket on the floor at the time) and on one piece of paper or another.

I,for one, am huddled defensively on my normal end of the couch, waiting patiently for the "all clear" to skitter across the room and up to bed.

Christmastime and my wife is wrapping presents.

(Did a Frank's Nursery and Crafts gift section somehow explode in here..?)

I'm sitting here, again on the couch with Max beside me, counting down the the last one hour and 17 minutes of my 35th birthday. As my old buddy Ry-guy said, "Welcome to the old man's club". Yup. You got that right.

Maybe it's the sleep-debt created by the crazy schedule of caring for a newborn son, or maybe it's just the fact that I don't eat or exercise the way I should (who does..?) but yup, "welcome to the old man's club".

But that's just sometimes.

With serious reflection, this is what I come up with: I have a great life with a beautiful and fantastic wife who is an amazing mother. I have an amazing little piece of work named Max we created together who just blows my mind every time I think about him even being in this world. I have great families on both sides, and great friends who I don't see often enough. I'm in our own house -- with the heat turned on. I have a couple of dogs -- wait, that's another story. But mostly they're good. What more do I need...? (Well. A money tree would be nice.)

To summerize, I've acquired everything I'd imagined as a kid thinking about having a family someday.

Oh. And I got good presents today too...

It's 10:30 P.M. on a Monday night.

In between typing paragraphs of this post I'm sitting here on the couch watching my dog, who's curled up next to my new son, watch a bison in Yellowstone National Park kick the shit out of a coyote. The National Geographic Channel rocks. Especially as a babysitter for my dog.

Max sits next to me in his "boppy" sucking away at his new blue pacifier he's just figuring out how to use, while staring at me (or is it the light behind my head?) as if he's taking inventory of every pore of my face.

My wife is taking a break from rearranging a couple of pieces of furniture to wash the day off with a shower.

The music room is pretty much ready for business. Just have to get back at it now.

It's quiet and cold outside. Cozy in here.

Perfect.

Thank god there's VH1 classic. I'll be the first to admit, I cringe a little bit at some of the video production, hair styles, clothes, and even some of the music represented there. It's all mostly '70's, '80's, and a little '90's music of all facets sort of jumbled together.

But it's music.

Unlike the most popular video music channels of today which have virtually turned into reality show and "see how I spend my money" channels...

And sometimes you run across a very cool show you used to watch and that "all is lost" feeling goes away for a little while.

Right now I'm watching an old MTV Unplugged. Of Alice in Chains from 1996. Talk about flashbacks. Christ they were a great band and this Unplugged was a classic performance. There are a few groups back in the '90's who made me want stay a musician. This was one of them.

R.I.P. Layne Staley

How the hell can you go wrong with Pavel Datsyuk and Henrik Zetterberg on the same team, let alone the same line...?





I gotta say this younger team (well, besides Chelios) is starting to grow on me.

I've spent the last few days with whatever hours I could manage not falling asleep on the couch working on getting my little home studio back together in the newly painted "music" room. Cords, plugs, inputs, outputs, patch bays, sends, returns, digital-in-this, analog-out-that... When you've put it off for so long, sometimes it takes some trial and error to remember just how the hell you hooked one device up, and why you didn't do it the same way for another piece of equipment.

But I think I have it. Maybe. Until whatever else there might be comes up.

Tonight my wife had a few of her old college buddies over, so Vinnie and I locked ourselves in the music room and started reacquainting ourselves with the GSS project and some other long forgotten ideas saved in unrecognizable folders on a dusty hard drive.

Girl Stand Still has some good things we're working on. We've just got to find time to get back at it. Life has been crazy the last few years, and it'd be nice to get going on a project that came to be in 2005.

It also makes me think about where music is today. Actually "where it's gone" is a better phrase. I'll be the first to admit I'm not an avid radio listener. But when I do, it's a sad day, all too often, when I find myself settling on a radio station that plays "the best of the 80's, 90's, and beyond...!"

New music today...? Cookie-cutter. Doesn't matter what genre you like. It's all been done before, and as far as today's stuff goes, not much different than last year, and the year before, and the year before... It's sad that your pop-rock album only sells if you're barely dressed on the cover or in your video, or if you have to depend on that little black "WARNING, explicit lyrics" sticker to put you in the spotlight. Sigh...

I digress. I love music. More genres than many of my friends and family might think. But I also get bored. Please, please, PLEASE someone find me something new.

But it has to be good. In my opinion at least. Whatever that might be.

I guess it's time to tune up the guitars, fire up the Sonar, and get writing and recording again.

Long live Jeff Tweedy & Wilco.

The town where I work is a small town. A couple of churches, a couple of banks, a nice little town square with a restaurant or two. It's comprised mostly of blue collar people who work all week to pay the bills and relax a bit on the weekends. I will admit, the area experienced a huge population explosion the last ten years and makes the following story a bit more believable.

On my way home from work, I usually stop at the bank, which happens to be inside a local grocery store. Pulling into the parking lot I found myself trailing a beautifully black, sleek, low-slung, shiny, and what can only be described as fast-looking sedan. A little bit of chrome trim and wheels with blacked-out windows topped it off. This car was dripping "fast." And dripping "mula."

It was a beautiful car, and I had no idea what it was. There was no logo on the rear of the car, and I had no idea what the mysterious combination of chrome numbers and letters near the trunk key hole tried to tell me. I was flabbergasted. I can honestly say, as most guys do, I think I have a pretty good knowledge of current automobile catalogs as they come out and change from year to year. I had NO IDEA this piece of art existed.

I followed in my own car (which happens to be the antithesis of the car in front of me) at a respectful distance to park near enough not to be suspected of stalking. Walking into the store I finally noticed the emblem affixed to the front grill. Mercedes.

So I did what very red-blooded american male would do--I went home and looked it up on cars.com. This is what I found out:

Mercedes-Benz CL-600
-Base price: $146,000
-Powered by a 510 hp V-12
-Lots of shiny, soft, high-tech options available

There are two other even higher end models, one with a base price of $197,000 and an anniversary model at $295,000.

I won't even get into the the 50-something, blonded, silicone-enhanced, high-heeled in a warm-up suit, chihuahua in her purse, and more than likely VERY highly maintained socialite female who stepped out and click-click-clicked her way into the grocery store.

I've never really been a Mercedes type of guy. This car might have changed my oulook a bit.

Mercedes-Benz CL-600