Ok, I made a myspace...

Stop...Don't judge me like that...

It isn't my fault I had to get one...it isn't because of my weakness. I'm blaming everyone else that preceded me in making one; and I'm blaming those who look at my xanga everyday and don't comment.

That's right, it is all your fault! How could y'all do this to me!?!

Xanga is not fun with out good comments.

But I'll still update my Xanga, no worries...

This is a sad day.

Today we mourn the passing of an old friend, by the name of Common Sense.

Common Sense lived a long life but died recently in the United States. No one really knows how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape.

He selflessly devoted his life to service in schools, hospitals, homes, factories and helping folks get jobs done without fanfare and foolishness. For decades, petty rules, silly laws, and frivolous lawsuits held no power over Common Sense.

He was credited with cultivating such valued lessons as to know when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, and that life isn't always fair.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn), reliable parenting strategies (the adults are in charge, not the kids), and it's okay to come in second.

A veteran of the Industrial Revolution, the Great Depression, and the Technological Revolution, Common Sense survived cultural and educational trends including body piercing, whole language, and "new math."

His health declined when he became infected with the "If-it-only-helps-one-person-it's-worth-it" virus. In recent decades his waning strength proved no match for the ravages of well intentioned but overbearing regulations.

He watched in pain as good people became ruled by self-seeking lawyers.

His health rapidly deteriorated when schools endlessly implemented zero-tolerance policies. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate, a teen suspended for taking a swig of mouthwash after lunch, and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student only worsened his condition. It declined even further when schools had to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student but could not inform the parent when a female student was pregnant or wanted an abortion.

Common Sense lost his will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches  became businesses, criminals received better treatment than victims, and federal judges stuck their noses in everything from the Boy Scouts to professional sports.

Finally, when people, too stupid to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, were awarded a huge settlement, Common Sense threw in the towel.

As the end neared, Common Sense drifted in and out of logic but was kept informed of developments regarding questionable regulations such as those for low flow toilets, rocking chairs, and stepladders.

Common Sense was preceded in death by: his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason.

He is survived by two stepbrothers: My Rights, and Ima Whiner.

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

Some people are idiots.

Thanks Stan!

Currently Listening How To Save A Life By The Fray see related

I’m coming clean with the truth.  I’m nervous about letting this guilty little secret out in the open.  Palms are sweating.  “I can do this.”  Confidence.  (There is conviction.)  Please don’t judge me…

Here it goes…the truth is…I’m a music downloading, burning thief…   

Whew…I’m glad that is out in the open.  Hey, don’t judge me…you’ve done it too.  Actually, I just bought, yesterday, my first album in about a year…I know, I’m terrible; a whole year of downloading and burning my music, shame on me.

So, I know you want to know what album I did buy…

Well, good question. Thanks for asking…

I bought How to Save a Life, by The Fray…

Don’t like them? Well, I don’t care; we are entitled to different tastes…

I listen to the tried and true musicians of our day and they continue to take their artistic decline.  But this fairly new, publicized group is a gleam of hope that I’ve been searching for...when I heard them I didn’t find one track that didn’t deserve “repeat play.”  I like their style, their sound.

Most of their song's music, wrapped around a story of not-so-fun life experience lyrics, are about pain...and they’re can be downers.

“I live life by the sad ones…”

But, you see, my problem isn’t with the “sadness” of an album per se, but with what is usually associated with sad lyrics: the whining, the weakness, the “easy” lyrics, and, most of all, the fact that the music stays, in most cases, stupidly happy - and singing about how you suffer so much to a happy tune sounds, to say the least, “blah, blah, blah…”  Get real.

“Jordan, you’re too young to be so cynical.”

My taste in music is such a variety; I’m not just plugged to one sound, and I'm proud of that.

“Variety is the spice of life, it is said.”

The only consistent variable, in my taste, is that I like music that is “introspective.”  And I’m always up for musical suggestions to give a try.  I’m a very open person…

“It is easy to forget how wonderful and powerful music can be.”

Over My Head: The Fray

I never knew
I never knew that everything was falling through
That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue
To turn and run when all I needed was the truth
But that's how it's got to be
It's coming down to nothing more than apathy
I'd rather run the other way than stay and see
The smoke and who's still standing when it clears and

Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind

Let's rearrange
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage
Just say that we agree and then never change
Soften a bit until we all just get along
But that's disregard
You find another friend and you discard
As you lose the argument in a cable car
Hanging above as the canyon comes between and

Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind

Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind
She's on

And suddenly I become a part of your past
I'm becoming the part that don't last
I'm losing you and its effortless
Without a sound we lose sight of the ground
In the throw around
Never thought that you wanted to bring it down
I won't let it go down till we torch it ourselves

Everyone knows I'm in
Over my head
With eight seconds left in overtime
She's on your mind 

Everyone knows
She's on your mind

*          *          *

Good news, Friday night my brother is playing at the Gypsy Tea Room.  I’m so excited. It has been too long since I’ve gotten a chance to hear him play.  If anyone’s interested in showing up to hear him, I’d love that.  Let me know…

You know, this Easter has gotten me thinkin' about a lot of things that I'm so thankful for. Now, I know what your thinkin'...

"Gah, is she gonna tell us what she's thankful for!?! Geez, it's not even Thanksgiving!"

Hmm, ok sorry...I know it's not Thanksgiving, or anything, but Easter is so important to me; it makes me think about my God, and his sacrifice for me, and YOU!

First and foremost...I'm so thankful for this...

11/24/1996

I mean, this is what Easter is all about right?

Ok, enough enough...

As a child growing up hating chocolate, I would get really sad around Easter. 

Think about it...I'd spend two hours looking for eggs for nothing...and, don't be mistaken, I was the champ at Easter egg finding; I'd put everyone to shame...

(well, that might be do to the fact that I was the youngest of my cousins growing up and the grown ups would follow me around and pick me up and put my nose right in front of the egg...but, I'd like to think I had something to do with it.) 

 But anyway,  I would get so discouraged, because I'd carry my little white basket overflowing with eggs, my head held high, straight to the living room; and I'd plop myself down, spread eagle, on the wine-red carpet and tip my basket over, spewing all those glorious, multihued, eggs right into my eager lap...

I know you remember what it felt like. But this is where the story takes a turn…

After minutes of tearing into egg, after egg, finding nothing but chocolate, my spirits would become crushed…

I grew up hating the Easter Bunny…(maybe, this is why I didn’t cry when I killed that bunny? No I’m joking…I felt terrible, I did.)  

Anyway, what kind of kid hates the Easter Bunny?  Well, I’ll tell you what kind…the same one that hates chocolate…that’s who!

Always ending my hunt with a white basket full of nasty, brown chocolate...I learned to turn my attention…not to feeling sorry for myself, but at a very young age…I learned the importance and power of a good haggle. 

Ok, let me take a minute just to boast on myself…I was the best little haggler under the age of seven…I would barter and barter until I would, eventually, get what I wanted…and make no mistake, I made sure to get what I wanted…

Hmm, I’m making myself sound spoiled…well, I wasn’t, end of story…(besides, I had to work like a dog to get my non-chocolate candy.)

There is only one soul reason that I don’t hate the Easter Bunny today…that is all because of...

So, here is my official thank you to, non-other than, Sam Born, inventor of Peeps…

Sir, you’re one ingenious Russian…

Ahem, so where there is not a really official and correct way to eat a Peep...over the years I've mastered the technique of my favorite, NON-chocolate, Easter candy...

The "Jordan" Way (a.k.a. the "might-as-well-be-the-official-and-correct" way) to Eat an Easter Peep.

First pinch the black eyes out…
Then, comes the nose…
Bite off the butt…
Next, I say "Off with the head…" (And if that is not grizzly enough for you, go ahead and give the neck a little stretch...)
Then, savor the body by stuffing the entire thing into your mouth.

Mmm, Mmm...good!

Happy Easter!

Currently Listening Me & My Gang By Rascal Flatts see related

Invisible to the opposite sex? Is your half-full glass, bone dry? Is your punching bag your best friend? Transform your life today in 241 easy, you could do this blindfolded, steps. Get what you want out of life and then some…guaranteed or your money back!

Were you seduced by the wild claims of the “self-help” books, above? Come on, admit it. You were reeled in for just a second, right? Maybe, just by one? Well, you aren’t alone.

America's recyclable Phychiatrists...

I walked into Barnes and Noble the other day, and was just overwhelmed by the four, I-need-to-hitch-hike-to-get-to-the-other-side, mile long aisles of rubbish that was shelved before me. In comparison, with the one side of devotionals and religious-based studies; I was in disbelief.

It is all about getting ahead in this “it’s all about me” world…

 On the top shelf, there was “Love Yourself, You’re Not Vain; You Are Important,” and right under it, there was “Why Is It Always About You? Saving Yourself from the Narcissists in Your Life…”

Seems pretty ridiculous, don’t they? Well, don’t be fooled…America’s Most Pitiable are whipping this trash right off the bookshelves of every bookstore around. America’s appetite for “self-help” books knows no bounds. Any title declaring to turn you into an irresistible, high-flying millionaire in mere seconds is, ironically enough, making the author an overnight millionaire.

Doesn't all this strike you as a little distasteful? Self-improvement manuals are, as far as I can see, designed to appeal to either the perpetually neurotic or the low self-esteemed; hardly the most well-balanced members of society.

But do they actually work?

I mean, I believe that there are intelligent individuals out there with plausible golden nuggets of wisdom that some of these steadfast supporters of the “self-help” industry could benefit from…but it is just getting nonsensical.  

My analysis: fluffy psychobabble or genuine pearls of wisdom? I suppose I can only pass definitive judgment on self-help manuals once I've put one of them to the practical test.

Now, just where did I put my copy of World Domination in Ten Simple Stages?