With or Without... You

In 1987, U2 opened their Joshua Tree World Tour in Tempe, Arizona.  It was the moment I had anticipated for weeks.

I was 15 years old seeing the band I fell in love with three years prior.

I attended this concert with three girls.

Each girl played a significant role in my life during those early days of high school. 

One was an older girl whom took me under her wings and advised me on how to get the girl.

Another was a troubled girl who took her own life two years later.

And the third girl was the object of my affection; soon to be my first love.

The significance of this concert on my life would not be realized until a year later.

There was something different about this concert.  Something was in the air that night.  It was a religious experience.  The 12,000 people in attendance were fixated on that stage; hanging on every lyric that left Bono's tongue.


There is something to be said about music and how the human condition can be inspired or even crushed when the two intersect at a specific moment.


For me, inspiration came during With or Without You at the very end of this 1987 U2 concert.

As U2 played this song, I was no longer fixated on the stage.  My eyes wandered upon the young blue eyed girl merely standing inches away from me; the girl I would soon call mine. 

Her name.... well, it's inconsequential but a name I hold in such reverence, I don't dare utter it during some casual circumstance like this moment.

With my eyes riveted on her, her eyes were squarely focused on the band.  During the 6 minutes this song played, I just obsessively stared at her every movement.

When the song concluded, I watched a single tear fall down her face as she directed her attention to me.

There's something to be said about an emotionally performed song and a passionate girl when the two intersect at a specific moment.


And there's something to be said about a passionate girl and a boy in longing when the two intersect at that exact moment.  


For the two of us, it was that moment and that song that led to our first kiss.

Within a week, she was my first love.  She was mine.  And I was hers.


One year later, U2 ended their U.S. tour in the exact same city it all began:  Tempe, Arizona.  They played two concerts on two consecutive nights.  It is the footage from these last 2 concerts that are featured in the film "Rattle & Hum". 

I was fortunate to attend both last concerts.  Like one year earlier, I attended both shows with my then girlfriend of one year, the beautiful blue eyed girl with a name I don't dare in such a casual circumstance like this exact moment. 

Both concerts ended with our song:  With or Without You.

There is something to be said about first loves and their first songs when they intersect at every moment they are together.


For the two of us, it was our bond.  It was the glue that kept us together when we fought.  It was that song that reminded each of us how we fell in love with the other.


Three years later, she and I broke up because her family was moving out of state.

There's something to be said about the moment when first loves have to move on without the other.


Two months after arriving in that new place to begin the next phase of her life, the beautiful blue eyed girl whose name I don't utter in such a casual circumstance like this moment, was killed in a car accident.

It's the phone call I will never forget.

The song I played over and over for years from that moment on was "Without or Without You".

It's a song that has many meanings to me now.

It was our song.

It was the song playing when I came to terms with my love for this young blue eyed girl.

It was the song we played as a means to remind ourselves how much we loved the other.

It was the song I played when I heard the somber news that her life was over at eighteen.

There is something to be said about music and how the human condition can be inspired or even crushed when the two intersect at a specific moment.


There is nothing to be said when I hear the lyrics....

I can't live
With or Without You.
  

Twenty eight years later and this song is still beautiful.

And it still haunts me.

Order and Choas

I recently read an interview with Mike Tyson.

He is one of very few athletes that captivated me during his prime.  Friends and I used to order all of his fights on pay-per-view.  We even made plans to go to Vegas and watch him fight at the MGM.  We never made it.

Mike Tyson was unpredictably predictable in his prime.  We knew he would knock his opponent out before the final round.  It was always a matter of when not how.

As his wealth grew, his hunger for dominance seemed to diminish.  As with most people who grow up in poverty and find wealth later in life, he became predictably unpredictable.

When backed in a corner against Evander Holyfield, he chewed a piece of his ear off.  When defeated by Buster Douglas, his personal life seemed to unravel at a faster pace.  His career and personal life had become chaotic.

In the interview I recently read, Mike Tyson admits to have blowing his fortune on drugs, an entourage, hookers, cars, houses, etc.

It's really easy for the rest of us to laugh at these once wealthy and seemingly immortal men.  But Mike Tyson isn't the first person to self-destruct at his newfound wealth and fame.

MC Hammer lost his fortune.  Countless artists and even actors have.  Athletes, too.  There are multitudes of lottery winners who have done the same thing. Many business men and women have the same track record.

It's as if chaos ensues when stability is right in their hands.

It would be really easy to say that greed or stupidity is the reason people self-destruct at the mere taste of success.  But I don't believe it's the case at all.

I used to watch a show on MTV called Cribs.  It was a program that showcased the homes of celebrities.  It never failed; every rapper and musician had 20 cars and a mansion decorated with the finer things in life.

I used to wonder why would anyone need so many cars.  It never made sense to me that a single man or even a married man would need a mansion with 40 bedrooms.

At some point, it dawned on me that people raised in poverty simply don't think beyond tomorrow.  I supposed that most of these people grew up in survival mode and having food on their plate at dinner was the only thing on their mind.

Maybe.  Maybe not.  It's a theory.

But then I realize that not every person who blows their wealth grew up poor.

And I start thinking... why do some people prefer chaos over stability.

Is it human nature to self-destruct?

I look at my own life and I realize that I am really no different than Mike Tyson or some former lottery winner.

Certainly, I didn't grow up in poverty nor have I ever been wealthy.  But if I look closely at the most secure moments of my life, I can admit those were the times I did everything in my power to impede my own success and happiness.

In my last relationship, I did it.  She was perfect; perfect for me and I, for her.  Yet, I found ways to undermine the health of our relationship.  Eventually, she took me back but we wasted two years apart because of my uncanny ability to undermine something good.   It was as if I wanted chaos instead of this newfound joy I was tangled in.

At my last job, I made a lot of money.  Yet, my bank account has nothing to show for the hard work and the success that followed.

It's like I have followed the same blueprint that Mike Tyson did but on a smaller scale.

I will never quite understand why I have always seemed to prefer chaos over stability.  Is it because I had a chaotic childhood?  Is it because I have a Type A personality or is my Type A personality a manifestation of the chaos I knew as a child?

Or maybe some of us live by the cliche, "it's about the journey and not the destination"; meaning some of us prefer climbing Mount Everest instead of actually reaching its' peak.

I simply don't quite know why a lot of us can't handle success or happiness well.

I suppose the first step is recognizing the self-destructive patterns.  Then, at some point, hope that wisdom settles in.

I read the interview with Mike Tyson and I felt pity for him.  I saw a man finally growing up. 

And in a strange and quite possibly enlightening way, I saw myself.

The Cute Theory

I was having a conversation with someone about babies.  We were talking about the future and how we both want kids.    As soon as we were on the baby subject, we both simultaneously said, “I hope our babies are cute.”  We discussed our more favorable facial features and imagined what tiny versions of ourselves would look like.

As we were on this subject, I started thinking… Just about everyone I have ever known that was planning for a baby, pregnant or had a dream of a family all made the same request we were:  They all wanted pretty babies.

I said to this person, “What if the babies aren’t cute?”

She wisely responded, “I don’t believe parents notice.”

Wow.  She is smart.

But really, when I think about it, pretty people sure get more of the attention.  Let me rephrase that:  Pretty people are more humanized than those who aren’t considered attractive.

For example, when a blonde haired, blue eyed, white little suburban girl goes missing or is murdered; she gets a lot more press and sympathy then say, a black child or a less than attractive girl from the trailer park.

Most people recognize these kids:

Most don’t recognize these:

All children who met a similar fate.  But only the first two, Caylee Anthony and Kelsey Briggs, were given the national spotlight. 

Some may say it is simply a race issue but I will take it one step further and say it is a Cute Issue.

Am I saying black kids aren’t as cute as white kids?  No.  But I do think in our collective thinking we tend to humanize attractive white kids more than we do all other kids.


Remember Jon Benet Ramsey, the “pretty” little beauty pageant child?  She has been in the newspapers for almost a decade.  Draw your own conclusions on why.  And before anyone blames the press or the newspapers for giving more attention to the pretty kids, you have to remember that the press only gives us the news, we the consumer, want to read about.  It’s about supply and demand.  We are to blame; not the newspapers.

Now, If I extrapolate my cute theory into other avenues of society, I could lay claim that the reason Haiti and their catastrophe is met with a certain level of indifference is because it’s a poor country with a less than attractive citizenship.  If the same tragedy hit Paris or Melbourne, would telethons be needed to get us to donate or even care?

Once again, I don’t necessarily believe it is just a race issue.  I think it is a cute issue. 

Americans are the most charitable and compassionate people on earth.  I believe that.  However, I also think we are the most arrogant. 

Back to my cute theory…

Take PETA, for example.  They want you eating this:

Dolphin Safe Tuna.  Tuna that was fished without using nets that sometimes kill dolphins.

Why do they want to save the dolphin but not the tuna?

Dolphins are “cute”.

Tuna, on the other hand, are “just” fish.

Ordinary, plain looking fish.  Granted, dolphins are mammals and tuna are not.

However, PETA is supposedly against ALL “murder” of animals or living breathing species (that aren’t human).  It seems to me they are really more specific in which animals are more worthy of being spared… the cute ones.

Anyway, it’s just a theory.

I do notice here online that when adults start fighting with other adults; that personal attacks always center around the other person’s appearance.  I’ve heard terms like “white trash” thrown around.  I’ve seen people refer to each other as “fat” or “ugly”.   I have witnessed people treat another person as if they are less than human because physically they don’t meet that person’s standards of attractive.

Kids do it in elementary school.  Adults do it online.  Less than “cute” people are often ostracized or bullied.

Back during the Salem witch trials, the so-called “witches” were most often women and a few men that had an unseemly appearance.

And we wonder why eating disorders run rampant in schools across the country; why celebrities have become the gods to many; why “attractive” people get more press than the rest of us…  Like I said, it’s a theory.



*wrote this in 2010*

2:00 A.M.

Nothing good happens after 2:00 AM.

Unless you're in Vegas.  Or in love.  Or drunk.  Or in a taxi cab with a beautiful woman.  Or just doing nothing with friends.

There we were, for three months straight, drunk, high; no worries in the world.  In the kitchen, we exchanged hugs; still wet from the hot tub.  Jesus looks the other way when you're young and naive.

Say, I can get used to this late night hour.  The moon is a star illuminated by the sun but on moonless nights, I wonder if the sun is fast asleep.  Say, later on, down the road, we will reminisce about these good old days and we will exchange hugs at the water cooler.

There we were,  for three months straight, drunk, high and under the false impression summer will last forever.  The moon sleeps twelve hours a day but the sun, it never sleeps except on moonless nights.  Those are the nights they aren't on speaking terms.  Those are the nights, darkness wins.

Nothing good happens after 2:00 AM.

Especially for those of us with bee hive brains.  And those of us with idle hands.  Insomnia does not exist.  It's simply the plague of the neurotic few.

There I was, stroking the head of my dog; just watching him sleep.  It dawned on me that dogs sleep twelve hours a day.  Just like the moon.  And that dog, he was always happy without a care in the world. 

Say, you're such a good boy.  I wonder what you think when you look at me.  Say, do I ever fall out of favor with you?  Are there days we aren't on speaking terms?

There I was, smelling her hair as she peacefully slept.  It dawned on me that she never looked more beautiful.  I swear I wanted to sleep like her.   I swear it will never be.

Nothing good happens after 2:00 AM.

Thoughts race; like a dog chasing his tail.  Round and round, I go.  Fear of the unknown is overtaken by fear of what is known.  Not if but when.  When is this world going to end?  When will she finally give up on me?  When will the moon disappear from the sky and when will that sun finally give up on us? 

Say, it's easier said than done.  Say, ignorance is bliss. 

There I was; having one of those dreams.  Those dreams where I am wide awake.   We were standing in the kitchen; drunk and high.  We exchanged hugs when no one was looking.  I swear I thought some things last forever.  I swear it was a moonless night.

Nothing good happens after 2:00 AM.

Until sunrise.

Beautiful Stranger

Beautiful Stranger, gone but not forgotten.

I know her name because I was up late one night; scanning the pages of perfect smiles.  I can't believe it's been seven years.

Beautiful stranger has a lot of friends.  Even still.

I was in love with a girl like her.  Seems like a lifetime ago. Even her name still gives me chills.  Even her smile still sticks in my brain.

We used to talk about children; swing sets specifically.  Something about a big dog and a 30 year mortgage.  I think we covered it all.  But it didn't work out.

If we had reached the altar.  If dreams came true.  If she was still walking among us.  I swear, she'd be a beautiful stranger to everyone else. 

Beautiful stranger taught me some things.  Life leaves a bad reaction.  A blend of fear and passion. 
Honey, we are just skin and shoes.  And everything else is soul. 

I was in love with a girl like her.  Seems like yesterday.  Even her blue eyes still stare back at me.  Even her hands still seem stuck in my pockets.  We all want to be safe and warm.  We all wish summer would never end.

Beautiful stranger can't tell tales.  She leaves that to us.  She's probably sitting on a cloud.  And it rains when she cries.  And maybe, she's grateful for all these new friends; these new friends she never met.  Like me.  And maybe, she talks to that girl like her and together, it rains when they cry. 

Honey, we are just skin and shoes.  And everything else is soul. 

Life leaves a beautiful reaction.  A perfect blend of fear and passion.

Human Nature

I find it difficult to accept this notion that it's simply human nature. 

Like selective outrage.  Get angry at the easily bullied for the very things the more easily liked people do but dismiss those actions from the easily liked because you, we, want to be liked, too.  It's easy to pile on.  It doesn't take much effort to throw stones at those unable to throw stones back.  Glass houses never have mirrors because you, we, don't like who we see.

I find human nature to be simplistic despite its self-ascribed complex spirit.  Oh sure, we are all unique snowflakes drifting aimlessly onto some winter landscape only to settle on the beaten ground and yes, we are all animals with free will and our own identities as witnessed by our own patented thumbprints but when the winter ends, it is, we, snowflakes that simply become nothing more than a relic from the past.

It's human nature to get angry when we feel wronged or slighted or ignored.  The lion when kicked out of his pride does not seek revenge.  He seeks to recapture what he perceived was his or he seeks a new pride to reign over.  Lions are proud, respectfully so, but ego does not play a part in their instinctive actions. 

Humans have monopolized ego.

It's human nature to mourn for those we have lost.  The grieving process is a lifelong struggle unlike animals where it's simply an event.  When the lioness loses her cubs, she does not wallow in self-pity.  By next spring, she will be nurturing a new litter. 

I find it difficult to accept that human nature is a fair explanation for all the crimes we commit. 

Like selective sympathy.  We shake our fists at the whalers as we suckle on a porterhouse steak.  Cows are stupid, we tell ourselves.  It makes us feel just.

It's human nature to sacrifice integrity for the sake of ideology.

Where are all the anti-war protestors from six years ago? 

Children never pick sides.  They will never willingly wear a button telling us which party to vote for.  Children don't have opinions on gay marriage or healthcare or government spending.  They are clean slates until we indoctrinate them.

It's human nature to want clones of ourselves.  Fathers pass on their first names to their first born sons.  Parents teaching children which God to believe in and which party to vote for.  The lion teaches her cubs how to hunt, how to survive.  Humans teach children what to believe.

What if I told you we are on the brink of extinction?  What if I proved that everything we have been told is just a lie?  What if I said that another Civil War is inevitable?  What if I predicted a nationwide blackout where nobody has electricity?  It would be human nature to dismiss me because nobody can fathom those things they have not experienced. 

It's human nature to think in contemporary terms.  Tell a 14 year old child the internet once never existed and he will ask, "what did you do for fun? how did you learn?"   He will have a difficult time believing a world could exist without a computer.

Tell an atheist the story of Jesus and he will laugh because it's illogical to him yet he will believe that Napoleon tried to conquer the world simply because his history books tell him its true.  Tell the same atheist that aliens don't exist and he just might argue that indeed they do. 

Selective logic is the nature of being human.

It's human nature to shed a tear at another one's misfortune.  It is we who are willing to dig into our own pockets when someone is in need.  The lion doesn't share the meal that he killed.  He will leave the scraps for the hungry once he is full.

Humans have monopolized empathy.

I find it difficult to accept this notion that good and evil can be simply diagnosed as human nature.

If we are indeed unique snowflakes with our own patented thumbprints drifting aimlessly onto a winter landscape, then nothing, we humans do, can be characterized as natural. 

The Blurring of Truth

During the 2008 election campaign in one of those usually well scripted town hall meetings, presidential candidate Obama was asked a question by an 11 year old girl.

"Senator Obama, why do you want to become president?", she curiously asked.

Without the assistance of his teleprompter, Obama was unprepared for such a simple question.  So, he did the Bush-esque routine of an awkward laugh and then made a joke about being hit in the head with a rock.  While the audience laughed, he finally mumbled his way toward an answer one would expect from a career politician:

"I have two daughters and they are very pretty like you are.  When I look at them and think of their future, I wanted a country they could be proud to live in; filled with opportunities like we adults once were accustomed to", he replied.  (I am paraphrasing).

Fair answer.
Not bad considering his handlers hadn't prepared him for a question by an innocent and precocious child.

But like most politicians and their catch phrase driven "speeches", it reeked of dishonesty.  In my opinion, of course.

I admit I am cynical when it comes to words from anyone; be it a politician or even a friend.  I believe most people say what they believe most people want to hear or if they do speak the actual truth, it will be done only in rooms of like minded people or in rooms filled with those types of people who hate confrontation.

I don't doubt that Obama wants his kids to have ample opportunity nor do I doubt that he believes his ideology is the best course for you and me.

What I do doubt is that his children were the motivating factor in running for president.

Ask me why I bought my last dog at the pound and my answer will vary depending on the crowd I am in front of.  If I am running for office, I would say, "Knowing the sad plight these abandoned cute little loving pets face, I figured I would do my part and save one from the cold heartless fate that was about to be administered through a needle."

If a friend asked me the same question, I would tell the truth... "The dog was only $30 at the pound."

This is probably a bad example.  My point is people rarely give thoughtful honest answers to questions.  In fact, I think most of the time, we give thoughtful calculated answers.

After going through my 'I want to be a cowboy' and 'I want to be a baseball player' phases as a kid, I, too, wanted to be a politician.  Most kids I knew at the time wanted to be doctors or lawyers or athletes.  Me, it was politics.  I was a young Alex P. Keaton minus the clip-on tie.

If anyone had asked me at the time why I wanted to be a politician, I would have done my best Obama or (insert any other politician) impression and probably would have said, "I want to be president because I believe the children are the future and I want to help this country and her citizens".

I am certain I would have given some bullshit reason.

Truth is I wanted to be a politician because I wanted a legacy.  I wanted my name to be known.  I believed I was smarter than everyone else.  I wanted mom to be proud.

Hey, I was a kid.  I emulated those I saw on  TV.  Reagan was my father or at least, my idea of what a father should be.

The other truth is yes, I did want to save this country and I did believe that children are the future.  Whitney Houston taught me that.  But that wasn't my number one reason for wanting to be a politician.

It was ego.  It's also a small degree of narcissism.   And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.  Yet, politicians will never admit it.

I think we all have a tendency to tip toe on egg shells with each other when faced with any question.  For some reason, we think our likeability is measured by our words so truth is sometimes abandoned in order to attain the illusion of being liked.

We live in a world now where we are defined by sound bites.  We have five seconds to make a good impression or we are forever labeled something.

Technology has replaced communication.  Social networks have re-defined and dislocated being social.  Illusions are the new reality.

And thoughtful calculated replies have replaced truth.