U N L O A D E D

It's a long gruelling road that stretches before me every morning and night. The destination is always the same but the story of getting there is different each day. I wonder if it's all worth it. Paying the bills, keeping a roof over my head..yeah...I guess I have to make this trip over and over before something gives.
If I can't be happy about this daily drive, I might as will use it to think.

So many cars on the fucking road. We're all in a rush to go nowhere. If you're out the door really early you might see less of them but the fatigue sets in and your stuck out there just like the rest of the stiffs. You accept it and then you try to put it out of your mind. It hurts less that way.

I see an assortment of flowers and a cross laid out by a tree on an exit ramp on the highway. Someone must have hit it and died. He or she was a football fan. One of the floral arrangements is made to look like one. Maybe it was a high school kid. I'm passing too quickly to read it but the early morning frost has bitten into the colorful vegetation, causing it to wilt and and shed it's vibrance. A lot of people must of cared for this person. I wonder how many other people have died travelling this road and I hope I'm not one of them. Would anyone put up a memorial for me if I did? How would it look like. All of this is too morose. I shift my attention to the jammed lanes ahead of me.

No accident here, just everyone in a rush to go somewhere they don't want to go at the same time. I'm too tired to be angry, I just go along with it.

"It is what it is." Such a stupid saying but it fits right here, I don't like what "is" is. I'm getting angry, I shift my attention to the radio.

More fighting in Iraq, people are losing their homes. Banks lie to them and people lie to themselves to grab a hold of that elusive American dream. I look around at the cars around me. They're here fighting for that so called "dream" also. Have any of them found it? And if they did get it are they happy? Was it everything they thought it would be? The look on their faces begs to question. I hate money. I hate how we jump through hoops for it but we have too. I hate how the banks, media and all beat us into submission by telling us buying things we can't afford will make us happy. We're all hamsters running in a caged wheel. Many can't stop running and even more can't get away. How would we escape if we wanted to? I can't deal with that now. 

Sometimes we need to take off the armor. It gets heavy, burdensome, stifling. We men want to strip it off and collapse from exhaustion into the arms of the right woman. It's been so long, carrying it all inside. Here she is, right in front of me or you...ready to accept all of us. It's not that you want to tell her that you cry after reruns of Little House on the Prairie or that your scared of mice because that's just not true. What you are is vulnerable in the deepest parts of your soul and while you don't fear mice or creepy crawly creatures or knife wielding thugs you are scared. You are scared shitless at THIS moment. The moment where you have to tell her how you really feel about her. That you want her, need her, will go crazy with out her.

Of course you can go on without her but you prefer not to. So you let it rip. You tell her and then, you either have it thrown back in your face or it's accepted and then, over the course of time, used against you. Why? How could she do this? That bitch!

Ladies, this scenario that I've laid out isn't etched in stone for all of you but it is something that many a woman has done to a man. "Men" on the other hand are better insulated from the pain inflicted from such episodes because they don't allow themselves to be placed in this position.

Thug

This is not the look I usually wear. Rather it is a silly costume and an attempt for me to show you that many men you encounter are wearing a costume (metaphorically speaking) similar to this; a wannabe tough guy that is not tough just obnoxious. This is where men revert to becoming "men" in the extreme sense of the word. Women are objectified to keep them from getting too close and causing damage. Suddenly the lyrics to hip hop tracks crudely discussing affairs of love and sex begin to make sense. Screw the love and get the sex, she's not worth much more to you after that. You let the door slam in their faces. You look down on them. You take satisfaction in NOT calling them back. They will ALL pay for what they did to you. You are raw, you are aggressive, you are mad and you will take what you want.

From across the room some poor women will see this energy about you and confuse it with dominance. She will show interest. You don't care what she has to say, you tune her out. You forget her name. You wonder what you have to do to fuck her and get rid of her quick and easy so you can move on to the next target. You don't reveal much about yourself. You give one word answers. Strangely this attracts woman to you even more than engaging them in conversation. You're a mystery now. A challenge that she must solve. She hounds you with calls, wonders what you are doing at all times of the day and won't take no for an answer. Within a few weeks to a few months she'll be left in a broken heap by the "man thug" as her other girlfriends gather around and wipe away her tears. She'll then ask,"Why do I go out with such jerks?"

For the "man" it's another notch in the belt. The hunt continues. But deep down he knows that this can't sustain him forever. Or can it? New adventures can't keep the heart pounding. The thug costume is a most sturdy armor.

For those of us that do take off battle gear and just choose to be ourselves, great danger awaits.

HE'S GAY!!!!!

Dress well, comb your hair and speak in an articulate manner that shows understanding and intelligence and you're likely going to get slapped with this accusation. While some of this has been tempered with the rise of the metrosexual, there are still some women that will find the real you too good to be true and go on the attack. I'll never forget the time it's happened to me. I had become good friends with a woman that I worked with and we hung out and spent a lot of time together. She was attracted to me but I was not attracted to her. She just didn't do it for me, what can I say? I loved her company but that's it. Then one day an odd conversation occurred.

Her: Watching you go after all those women like that at the new years party was something to see. Now I know you're straight.

Me: What the fuck does that mean? Of course I went after the women! I was drunk and horny. What kind of stupid statement is that? What was I supposed to do? Jack off into a martini glass behind the bar?

Her: Well....

Me: Well what?

Her: I thought you may be...you know.....

Me: Based on what?

Her: Well you had a background in the arts.

Me: I couldn't play sports! This was the next best thing and it's a great way to pick up women. Especially if I had a good part in a show. And it's not like I was doing fucking musicals here.

Her: You work out.

Me: Yeah I work out. It curves my depression and keeps me from being a pencil neck!

Her: You dress nice.

Me: I spent over a year of my life homeless and looking like shit. I was lucky to eat once a day. The looking like shit days are over for me, thank you.

Her: But you watch wrestling!

Me: Yeah, I watch wrestling!!! I always used to watch it with my grandparents! When they were in the old folks home I would come by and update them on what went down and they would perk up. I still watch it because it reminds me of a happier time in my childhood. I also like to see people get beat up and put through tables.

Her: And....and...you speak well. Really proper...

Me: Mmm...I have a vocabulary....yes.

Me: You express yourself differently than other guys.

Me: I believe in being clear with how I feel.

Her: You said that thing about Pierce Brosnan.

Note: At the time he was still playing James Bond. A series of which I'm a fan of.

Me: I said that he still looked the part despite being in his 50s! I hope I hold up that well when I'm that age!! I'm secure enough in myself to give a guy credit when credit is due. He looked great.

The conversation continued like this, ad nauseum, until I ended it. The lesson here: Don't be too much of a real man because some knuckleheads can't handle it. Another thing ladies, when men tell other men they look great it's much different than when you say it to each other and it has nothing to do with feelings of homosexuality. When a guy says to a guy that they look great it means that he still looks like he can run some laps, play 18 holes of golf or hold their own in a batting cage. It means that you still look sturdy enough to handle manly men tasks. And, as you know, we men like to challenge each other in feats of strength and endurance. It nurtures our fragile egos. Why do you think so many of us watch sports?

Also, like being called "feminine," when did taking care of yourself and being articulate become something exclusive to gay men? I have no issue at all with our gay counterparts but if I were a betting man, I'd say that there are gay men, and there are gay "men."

We Still Need Each Other

For better or worse I've been viewed as being too self sufficient to come off as desirable to certain types of women. Perhaps it's going through so many rough spots in my own life and battling out of it alone. While it's made me strong I hope it hasn't hardened my heart too much. The good thing about this is that I am 100% certain that I'm not codependent. This is a kiss of death for many a person when the enter a relationship.

It's a rough deal out there. We men like the company of a woman and to explore the beauty and mysteries of her body but not at the expense of mental turmoil. Honestly, there's nothing better then feeling a womans bare body against mine and, yes, post coital cuddling is not such a bad thing. In fact, it can be a great warm up for round 2. Chances are you women feel the same way about us men and that's where the issue lies and will continue to remain for some time to come. How do we get to the point of experiencing pleasure and intimacy with each other without the stupid games and costumes. Why do women not know what they want if they are supposedly in better tune with their emotions than us men. Conversely, why do we wen need to throw up so much armor if we are the stronger ones and do know what we want?

I can't stop the cycle for everyone but I can stop it with me.

As for being man or "man," I've learned it's best to be both and knowing when to use it. Be a gentleman sometimes and other times....let that door slam in her face. But pick your spots carefully and honestly and don't become an ass. We have enough of those in both sexes.



Coming up next on U N L O A D E D....The evil that is Enterprise Rent a Car.

Also.... Match maker, matchmaker. The yentas are after me.

And... Breathe in deeply and die. My coughing has stopped but the cure is worse than the disease. Yep I'm going to attack the pharmaceutical industry...AGAIN!!!

True story going back to when I was training as an actor. I was going to night classes at a place called The Atlantic Theater Company around the meat packing district in Manhattan. The class was about analyzing a script and performance technique. Each week we had find a partner and perform a scene for the rest of the class to critique. One particular scene that didn't go well for yours truly was from a play called Suburbia by actor and writer Eric Bogosian. It was a wonderful coming of age tale of youngsters who were going nowhere post high school and pissing away their time in front of a convenience store. You've seen these types if you've ever had to go to one to score some milk, candy or sodas in a pinch. They think they have it all figured out and use it as a justification to go nowhere as they wax philosophical about life while they chain smoke.

As a 24 year old with a chip on his shoulder, selecting this work to do scene from seemed to be a perfect fit. I found a partner, a gorgeous female, and we were to do the one scene which I could not pull off. Perhaps the only part of the play that felt like a huge obstacle instead of fun: Opening up and expressing my feelings of fear and vulnerability over my character's girlfriend leaving for college and likely to bigger and better things. The scene commenced. Awkwardly I stumbled through, trying to find my grounding to power through this mess.....but I couldn't. Mercifully it ended and reactions from my fellow actors commenced. The first person to comment was an actress. I'll never forget what she said, "It seems like you had a lot of trouble expressing how much you care for her. But it's probably got nothing to do with your acting ability and more to do with the fact that you're a MAN."

The other actress nodded in a agreement and murmured in a "tell 'em sister" kind of way. I had no rebuttal, she was right.

Weakness

From an early age many of us boys who become "men" were not encouraged to express our feelings in anything that comes close to being articulate. Many, but not all of us, were taught to keep it inside to not dwell on it. Just keep moving on until things work themselves out. But the more we hold it in the more emotionally unavailable we become. We carry the weight with little left for anything else when an intimate relationship comes along.

We're told to be strong. Not flinch, be a man. Tough it out. Talk of feelings is not supposed to be in a man's arsenal of weapons. If we do open up we run the risk of looking weak, wimpy, or the ultimate kiss of death...sensitive.

Sensitive = Dead

Somewhere along the line the big thing for men to be was sensitive. In fact, some years ago all the talk on news programs that did a fluff piece on relationships heralded a "sensitive man" as the model that men should aspire to be. Think Tom Hanks in the film Big. The word sensitive in and of itself is not bad but the distortion of word is. To show understanding of someone else's feelings and your own in a way that's expressive and productive would technically be considered "sensitive." However the pop culture definition of sensitive, and the definition that prevails, is a guy who cries at the end of Little House on the Prairie reruns and pretty much lacks any spine when a confrontation arises. Most men don't want to go there. It betrays the code we're all taught while growing up to be a man. And women, most likely, will appreciate the sensitivity of a man when used at the right time and sparingly. While women may say they want a man that is sensitive, I feel they actually want a man that's dominant with genuine tendencies of sensitivity. There's a difference there, a big one. Unfortunately finding men that can walk this tightrope is difficult and many women wind up dating jerks. Why? They mistake the abusive behavior for dominance. They can't find a guy that can do both because we weren't adequately prepared to handle both while growing up.

So you may notice, ladies, that even the men who do not act like jerks have a sort of wall up. And at first that wall may seem exciting to you as what's behind it is a mystery. Women like to unlock the secrets of their men in due time. There's nothing wrong with this.

But perhaps the word sensitive should be put to rest as men who need to nurture a true sense of it, won't because the distorted definition prevails. And again, what man worth his salt wants to be that? Sensitivity, as we've wrongly come to understand it, is dead!

And it should stay that way.

But is it Feminine?

Another true story. A former best friend and I were at a bar watching a Knicks game and we were waiting for a woman who was interested in me to show up with her friend. As they entered we got to talking about how we were concerned about a mutual friend who was getting mixed up with the wrong woman and was playing all sorts of head games with him. He was in a wretched state and we hated to see him like this. The 2 women were fascinated by the discussion they were overhearing.

Woman #1: I'm really amazed by how feminine of a discussion you 2 can have about your friend. I didn't think men talked this way.

Woman #2: Yeah, it's really great that you 2 can talk like this.

Me: Feminine? What the fuck does that shit mean? We're worried about our friend who's dating a total bitch.

Woman #1: Yes but the way you were talking was not something we see guys do. I mean we women talk this way, but I didn't think men did.

Me: Explain this to me....

Woman #2: Well, we didn't think men really opened up with their feelings like this. My boyfriend and his friends don't.

Actually they probably do but far away from you because they don't want to reveal that part of themselves and be called feminine. Granted, there's nothing wrong with feminine if you're a woman or a very flamboyant man or drag queen. But for the rest of us guys, that word, like "sensitive" is the kiss of death.

Here''s another thing. Expression on feelings is not something exclusive to femininity. It's a human thing. Still it's not surprising that many women feel this way about men. They are going off experience.

There is more to our journey in discovering the difference between the sexes and I will share the rest of my thoughts in full.......

But not tonight. Tonight I will imagine a utopian world where male and female understand each other and make love....not war.

Coming up next.....Part II of why we become "men."

Well it appears that this dry hacking cough won't subside. Those of you who read this blog regularly recall how at one point the coughing was so bad that I couldn't light the menorah on Hanukkah because I was nearly convulsing. Thankfully, I didn't burn down the whole apartment.

So here I am, a couple of weeks later, and the cough still lingers. While the fever, chills, headache, nausea and such are long out of the way, this damn cough won't leave! It's not as severe as it once was but it strikes at the most inopportune times. It's frustrating and I've heard all sorts of advice like:

• Drink lots of water.
• Get a humidifier.
• Increase my intake of vitamin C.
• Refrain from exercise.
• Resume exercise.
• Get a dehumidifier.
• Lower my intake of vitamin C because it will hurt my liver.
• Forget about drinking water and drink tea with lots of honey.
  
• See your doctor.

Ah yes, my friends, that last point is the most critical and something I've been too busy to do. I suspect his prescription will be to take it easy and get rest along with lots of fluids. But I can't rest because I have to pay the bills, damn it!!!

The coughing has lead me through a litany of awful situations.

Last Friday

I figured I'd do a good deed and go to synagogue after work. The coughing seemed to have let up until I entered the sanctuary.

Me: Cough! Cough! Cough, cough, COUGH! Ack! Cough!!!

I take a seat as the services begin and just as I get it under control, a critical point of the service arrives: The Mourners Kaddish

This is a point in the service in which people who lost loved ones on or around this time stand and recite the prayer to mark the anniversary of their passing. As the Rabbi begins to read the names of the deceased the coughing begins in earnest.

Me: cough.........ahem......cough......cough.....cough.......ahem.....

The rabbi then asks the mourners to rise and the reciting of the prayer begins. This is to be a solemn and poignant moment.


Congregation: Yit-gadal v'yit-kadash sh'may raba....

Me: AAAAAAACCCCK!!! HAK!! HAK! COUGH! COUGH! COUGH! AHHHACK!! COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!

I can take it no longer. I get up and stagger out of the sanctuary and head for the bathroom. As I do the congregation stares, mouths agape, eyes wide in shock.

I compose myself in the bathroom and make a return, trying to not call anymore attention to myself.

ME: ACK!! COUGH! COUGH!!! AHEM!!!! COUGH!!!

I excuse myself AGAIN.

Whispers from the crowd, rumors that I am carrying the plague or SARS.

After the service, a wonderful couple about to celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary approaches me.

Husband: Boy you sure have one nasty cold.

Me: (nodding) Cough! Cough!

Wife: Rick, we're going to be celebrating our 60th wedding anniversary soon and after services we'll be hosting an Oneg Shabbat at our place. We want you to come by.

Me: (nodding yes) COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!

I give the thumbs up and bolt for the door. This good deed was a total disaster.

Later That Night.......

I needed a fucking drink. I promised some coworkers that I'd meet up with them in Sono, a trendy area in southern CT with lots of hot spots. For a while the beer poured and the coughing diminished. I was feeling a little bit better but I was not there yet.

The good news, I was getting a lot of good vibes from the women in the bars. I like this. But the coughing fits left me a bit inhibited. I didn't want to hack up a wad of mucus on them. That would be a pretty big turn off. We checked out another bar down the street and ran into an attractive redhead we all worked with. She was very happy to see me and sat on my lap. Her hands were pretty free over me and I didn't mind it at all.

The coughing subsided.

She called her friend over to introduce her to another coworker I was siting with. Maybe he was hyped over what was going on with me but he got a little too friendly with her way too quick. Unlike me who didn't mind the aggressiveness, she did. The result? Her demanding to leave and taking away my potential company for the night, but not before getting a nice kiss. Before we knew it, they were gone. I could have smashed a bottle over my colleague's head but we have to work together and he's really a good guy. But really, he may have cost me one. I told him it's best to let the woman lead in these situations. He agreed. I also noticed something that was NOT good....

The coughing returned.

This Past Week......

My boss ordered me to stop coughing. It didn't work. Since it was Christmas time the work volume was light and the office was empty. I sat alone with most of the lights out....coughing.

This Friday Night....

Went back to Synagogue and for the most part the coughing was under control. No more stares. Good deed done.

Saturday Night.....

All is well until I decide to go to sleep. The coughing hits me with a vengeance. I give up on the prospect of slumber and resort to watching Busty Cops 2 on HBO late night.

While the visual stimuli was overwhelming...the coughing subsided.

Suddenly I discovered the pattern and source of relief to my ailments. It was so clear to me and made so much sense. It's what I want, what I need; a valuable lesson.

Never underestimate the healing power of a beautiful woman's body or her affections.

Coming up Next......Where art thou Vegas Starlet?

Through the long and grueling commute I endure each day to and from work I have been slowly rattled into following the saga unfolding in Pakistan thanks to NPR. I make it a point to not fall into the "Dumb Yank" category that so many foreigners see us as, so I try to learn about situations unfolding around the world. It puts so much in perspective and in addition to educating me, gave me the tools to write about what was wrong here with this country. This was once a political blog you know.

Remember that my long time readers?

Pakistan is in tremendous turmoil and my hope is that they can find a way out of this mess. One person that was seen as a hope to make it happen was Benazir Bhutto. This woman came from a political family, plagued by tragedy, that seems to echo what we have seen here in the US with the Kennedys. She was in self imposed exile until October when she returned to Pakistan with a chance to rule again, she had already served as Prime Minister of Pakistan in the past.

They (religious extremists) tried to kill her the first day of her return and failed. But today they unfortunately succeeded. There are riots going on everywhere in Pakistan and the whole story just makes me sick.

Why am I drawn to this event? Because this was a woman that wasn't afraid to stand up to something that was and is terribly wrong. And to do that in spite of being marked for death takes a great courage and character. Anyone that can go through all the turmoil and sheer punishment she endured for a great deal of her life and still show resiliency is someone that wins my admiration rather quickly. Bhutto wasn't perfect (no one is) but she stood for many of the things that we take for granted here in the US, Europe and anywhere else that's a free country. Whenever someone dies trying to bring those things to their people, I have to pay my respects and I do, most sincerely, here tonight.

Coming up next.....Can I please stop the coughing!?!?! And.... Where has that Vegas starlet gone?

We all have our hopes, dreams aspirations and goals. We do our part to achieve them and hope that the work invested is bringing us closer to where we want to be instead of pushing us further away.

This is a difficult thing to gauge and sometimes we don't know for sure or won't know until some time has passed. It's only then that we can be witnesses to the fruits of out labor and feel that good work has been done. However, during these periods, there is tremendous time for self doubt to fester and rear it's ugly head. It is then that we wind up at parties and run into people we haven't seen in years or perhaps a person of importance that could play a role in the advancement of your career. It's inevitable that in these casual discussions that the other person will rattle off their accomplishments and then turn the spot light on you with a simple question:

So what are you doing?

The other individuals accomplishments seem so much more solid and ambitious. Your mind races, searching for answer that will be at least on par with his or hers.

The throat tightens, ever so slightly.

The sound "um" wants to pour out of your mouth in a steady stream.

The palms grow a bit sweaty.

You fidget or shrug your shoulders.

Finally you take a deep breath and let it rip, stringing together a shaky list of "plans" you have with a tone of forced confidence that only accentuates your insecurity. You don't want to look like an oaf or layabout. You want to portray that YOU TOO are on the move and working on something grand.

The other person will nod and declare how wonderful it is that your doing these things. They will follow up with how far along you are. The best answer you can muster is something a long the lines of this:

You: Well....um.....you know......things.......working on it.......it's...uh...coming right along.

You feel your heart sinking and you clear your throat once more, hoping they believe you. Soon the talk ends and you both go your separate ways. You realize what an awkward time that was and spin into self evaluation mode. "This can't happen again!" You say to yourself. You go home and construct more solid and stock answers to defend yourself the next time you're at a cocktail party. You'll shine like a star and people will be in awe of you. It's not to be a liar but to hold your own in a world that seems as if it's passing you by. You may not be as far along as others but you'll make what you have done sound great.

But the self doubt still lingers. You wonder why haven't you gone as far as you'd like. You question if you have enough in the tank, the will, the fortitude. Did you chase the wrong calling? Soon these thoughts haunt your entire being. And as you step out into the world there is only one thing you feel like....

FRAUD!

You're not the writer, inventor, artist, poet, singer, songwriter, musician, entrepreneur or bad ass you hyped yourself up to be!! No, no no! You're none of these things. You have your job at a generic office, factory or store, not the goals you aspire for! You are what you do! You're a cubicle slug, factory zombie or retail scum. You hate this! People notice your discontent but don't know what your problem is. You scream, "LET ME OUT!" But where is the OUT?! Is this it? Is this all? It wasn't supposed to be this way!!!!

The ugly word reverberates throughout mind, body and room you're in.

YES! That word! Say it with me:

FFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUDDDDDDDDD!

Oh God no! Not this this way! Not like this! This can't be my fate!

You look around, people stare with sideways glances. Children scatter. You're own pets no longer recognize you.

HHHHEEEEEELLLLP!

You dive back into your goal with a fanatical conviction to prove this all wrong. You can do this. You can make it! Damn all of you who say no! Curse you! Or you can give up and go back to the status quo. So simple isn't it? But so fucking hard.

We have this choice everyday. We can make it or avoid it. But everyday that you choose to say yes, then it's as real as anything else in front of you.

Coming up next...... Can I please stop the coughing? And..... When Vegas Lost a Starlet.

Well, it seems like an eternity since I decided to announce my entry into the Slamdance screenwriters competition. At the time my hope was to advance enough to get exposure and feedback. And, as some of you may recall, the feedback was VERY POSITIVE.

However, in the end, it just wasn't enough to get over the hump. I've known about my elimination since the end of summer but I've held back on discussing it until now. Why? Because I wasn't sure how I felt. On one hand I was grateful for the favorable review but on the other hand I as perturbed that I didn't advance further. Trying to rationalize the logic of the judges is beyond my control. In fact, it's not even something I should dwell on. It's one loss out of thousands of rejections that are headed my way. It's the nature of the business. But I surmise that even the most seasoned writers deep down agree with me when the rejection comes.

It Sucks!

I don't care how thick skinned you say you are or how many years you've been in whatever business you're in, when you pour your heart and soul into something and they say no, it sucks! "Just give me a chance!!!" You cry. But the decision maker on the other side has heard and seen it all before and has been hardened. There is no mercy. Again, it's the nature of the business. It's not going to change for me or anyone else anytime soon. And even if you're in the inner circle and are paid to write films as a career, it still may suck since your story could get changed to appeal to 13 year olds which will result in higher ticket sales. If that does not rub you the wrong way then just look at the writers strike going on right now. They are living the dream but it's become a nightmare for them right now. TV is heading into reruns and reality show hell with their absence but sooner or later this has to have a happy ending. It's what writers are paid to create no matter how implausible.

Still this "defeat", if you wish to call it such, is a drop in the bucket. In the grand scheme of things it means nothing to lose but a whole lot if you "win."

So What Now?

I can't change what happened and as I said, it's not worth stressing over. There will be more rejection than acceptance as I try to get my work out there. But here's the thing, I've got nothing in the tank right now as far as major stories go. Yes there is this blog and yes it's great to whip out some quick stories to keep the knives from dulling, but I can't get the mojo going and this also sucks.

The other thing that sucks? I have not been motivated to work on the last script I completed.
I feel it's a great story but I also feel overwhelmed by it. So much so that to open it up and begin revisions hurts like hell.

Was it the "defeat" this summer or the series of events that's been distracting me from my priorities? Is it the Blackberry? The current job? This blog? Or fear?

I haven't a clue but the shutdown of sorts scares me. Where did the spark go? Will it come back? Should I forget the whole fucking thing?

These are questions only I can answer and I will have a brutal wrestling match with my thoughts in the weeks to come. "Defeat" should never be a reason to give up in any goal you've set for yourself but loss of will is something you should fight to get back. Without a will, there's not a way. If there's no way, there's no fun to be had at the end. This disturbs me as I want that fun and sense of accomplishment in my life. Unfortunately what I have become at the moment is a working stiff. Just giving enough to make it through the day so I have enough left to make it through the next. And when I say "enough" it's actually a lot.

There's a balance to all of this and once one can figure it out, I think victory is right around the corner. You just have to have an open mind to what that means.

So have you ever lost focus with your goal? Have you lost your motivation? Have you just wanted to say, "damn it all and throw in the towel to be a safe, working stiff?

Unload here.......

Coming up next on U N L O A D E D.......

FRAUD!

Yep, like clockwork ladies and gents. I get to keep my car and no sooner does that happen then a mom in her minivan comes crashing into me on the highway!!!

The accident was not my fault so I get the car fixed for free. This will be of great inconvenience however.

Stay tuned for pictures of the fender bender, they're great!!!

I just fucking love it!!!




UPDATE

As promised, here are pictures of the fender bender. I love how the rear bumper slants, ever so slightly, on the drivers side. It could have been much worse but still it sucks.





























































I spoke with Chubb, the company that insured the woman that hit me and possibly one of the worst named companies ever. Not only do they have a pathetic name, but they had the nerve to say that they can't verify that the woman is insured with them based on the information I provided which was:

• Her name
• Her address
• Her drivers license number
• Her insurance policy number
• Her vehicle identification number
• Her date of birth
• The make of the car
• The year the car was made
• AND THE CASE NUMBER OF THE INCIDENT GIVEN TO ME BY THE CONNECTICUT STATE POLICE WHO WERE AT THE SCENE!!!!

WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED CHUBB!?!!?!?

She (the Chubb rep) then suggested that I just use my own insurance to cover the repairs as it would be done faster. UNACCEPTABLE!!! I told the Chubb Representative that I would NOT do that and they can take care of it. She said that would be fine but it might take 2 weeks!!!!

What is this!?!?!

Note to other drivers, avoid the Chubb flubs! They suck. And really, who the hell would want a company named Chubb backing them up? How can any of it lead to good?

I'm sick of this already. I'm going to drink play with my Blackberry, maybe watch some porn if the mood strikes me.

Later folks.

Coming up on U N L O A D E D....... What to do when you lose.

It's no iPhone and mine didn't come with Asian film star Bai Ling, but hell...this Blackberry Pearl that I scored is one sweet phone. How sweet? I'm addicted and you can't stop me!!! In fact, it's almost better than sex! I'll explain in a few.

Everyone who has mobile phone service gets the chance to every so often upgrade their phone and my time came about a month and a half ago. My trusty Nokia flip phone was a solid performer if, and only if, I wanted to make calls and snap a few pictures. But as I became more engrossed in my email and internet usage, I began wanting more. For this phone upgrade I was going to get something special, something advanced, something cool.

Enter the Blackberry Pearl

To me Blackberry phones were big clunky devices used by "the suits" at Fortune 500 companies and Fortune 500 wannabes. UNACCEPTABLE! I wanted the iPhone but the steep price scared me away. I love Apple stuff and proudly write on this blog with my iMac. I DON'T DO WINDOWS. But I'm on a budget and scored this little number for $39.99 refurbished. This phone goes for $350 new or $149 with a 2 year service contract and $50 mail in rebate. I hate that!!! No rebates, just give me a cheap price. If the phone doesn't work I could return it to the phone company. I had nothing to lose. Also getting a refurbished phone is, according to my wireless carriers website, eco friendly. I like this.

So I get the thing online, it comes in the mail and it's never been used! The only thing wrong with it is that is has the old companies name on it. Who cares? I fire the thing up and go through the activation process. From here on out my life has never been the same.

The Crackberry

Who on earth would want crack when they can instant message, email, surf the internet and run their whole fucking life with a Blackberry? "I'll just check my email once and awhile with this thing." I said to myself. That lasted a day.

This phone has become surgically implanted into my hand. When not in my hand it's always in my field of vision just in case the little red light starts to flash. That means I got an email or one of you left a comment on the blog. From the aisle of the grocery store or in the midst of waiting for my car to get an oil change I can reply right back to you wonderful people. The gratification is instant. My heart races with giddy anticipation with each flash of the red light.

Who could it be? Meleah, Monique, Ms.Q, Urban Thought, Maritza, Enemy of the Republic, Amber, Marsha, MKD, God, the spirits of the netherworld?

Who?

The pressing of the buttons to open up the email to find that out is pure ecstasy I tell you!!! And so is everything else!

I'm in a long line, I hit the Crackberry and surf the web.

I'm in the waiting room of my doctors office. I hit the Crackberry to instant message.

I'm in bed, too lazy to get up and turn on my computer, I hit the Crackberry and reply to you.

I'm lost while driving and in nasty area. I hit the Crackberry to pull up mapquest and find my way to safety.

I want to discretely view porn. I hit the Crackberry not because I have to but because I can!

Oh baby this convenience feels so good! Ooooh! Don't touch me, let me just lie here for a second. I'll be OK.

If I were Trapped on an Island

If I were stuck on an island, I'd want my Blackberry. I would even figure out a way to generate enough electricity to recharge the battery using my own movements like running or pedaling. No service way out in the middle of nowhere? No problem, I'll make a tower out of the coconut trees. You may ask would I not want the companionship of a beautiful woman? The answer is no! If I can devise a way to attach artificial but very realistic feeling breasts and a pulsating vagina to the phone then I would. There would be no nagging and I could shut it off when I'm done.

I just need food and the Crackberry! Can't you understand? You ignorant non Blackberry users!!!!

Dude, are You Serious?

About what I said about being on an island and companionship stuff?

I suppose not, no.

Nothing beats the right warm body next to, on top of or under you.
I love this little phone and find it indispensable. I really don't know how I got by without it. Don't get me wrong, if it died today, I'd miss it and fall back on my old flip phone. But it's made things so much more convenient and has proven to be not just a business contraption but the ultimate fun machine for keeping your social life afloat and prospering. Who needs to actually talk when we have these things?

Actually we do need to talk and we do need that contact, but until that person is within arms reach, the Blackberry isn't so bad. And you can always use it to reel that person in close with some sweet words.

Technology is grand.

Disclaimer: No I was not paid by the Blackberry makers, Research in Motion, to write this. I just dig the phone and so do the chicks.

Coming up Next on U N L O A D E D......

Live Free Or Die Hard!! Thank you Fox for coming to your senses and releasing an unrated version instead of the lame PG-13 one! Yippie Kay Yay Mother Fuckers!

Also coming up....

Dealing with my elimination from the Slamdance Screenwriters competition, has life lost it's meaning?

Yes mofos "the Ricardo" has scored a win, big one, just in the nick of time!!!!

I'm sure I speak for many of us when I say that we are happy to have a job but not happy in the sense that we feel a profound fulfillment from it. For many of us, the current job we have is a thing that keeps the money coming in to pay the bills while we pursue or passions like building a hot air balloon that can travel around the world, scaling Mt. Everest or becoming the next Hugh Hefner. "This job really isn't me but a stopgap measure!" We declare at parties or to friends. We have that book or movie that were planning to complete which will whisk us away to the high life, a better life.

But until that magic happens we have our jobs and we play the role of a working stiff. We venture into the rush hour traffic and then to our cubicles, offices, desks, what have you. We do the job, we fake the smiles, we give false thanks to the measly raise we get each year despite being told that a 2% raise is the new 4% raise of yesteryear. The hours grow longer and the projects become more demanding but we give it the old college try because someone has got to keep the cable TV up and running.

I know, it's not easy, you seethe inside screaming, "get me the fuck out of here" but for now, you're stuck with what you have. It takes a lot to manage this day in and day out, you want to do a good job even if you're not nuts over it because some praise every now and then feels nice. However this is an office filled with other people and personalities vary greatly. It's not so bad, you think. You have the office supply whore who steals everything off anyones desks, then you have the gatekeeper of office supplies who won't share his or hers 20 year supply of post it notes with anyone. Then you have the worst element of all, the scum of the cubicle world.....

The Boss Who's Not a Boss!!!!

These individuals (cock suckers) are either the same rank as you or even lower but may have more "experience" than you and feel insecure about why they've been passed over time and again.

These people (fuck wads) see fit to monitor you and everyone else they work with and will run and tell on you if they sense any impropriety even though you've likely done nothing wrong.

These fake bosses (dumb asses) are meticulous, spending more time tracking you and keeping informal logs on when you came in and out of the office than their actual job.

These office subspecies also have no issue running up to you and pointing out what you did wrong until you realize that even the act of you breathing is wrong for them.

They have no issue delegating work to you that was originally assigned to THEM!!!

They are constantly aware of the latest office gossip and personal lives of those around them. They will use this as a weapon against without hesitation.

These scumbags seem to stay with the company forever despite everyone knowing that they suck at what they do yet they always have more to say about what they are doing than you do. They are excellent at marketing themselves at the expense of you. You are incompetent and they pick up your slack.

Why Do They Do It?

If it's a woman in the office doing it, it's likely her husband, boyfriend or girlfriend isn't going down on them enough. If they did, they'd likely be a little less obsessed with ruining others lives. If she's single then her vibrator has run out of batteries and she keeps forgetting to get new ones on her weekend shopping sprees. The thought process? "I bet so and so is getting it more than me, so I'm going to ruin their lives!! Where's my log book?!"

Women that feel the need to do this are also frigid. So much so that you can keep hamburger patties frozen by inserting them into her body cavities. Complimenting them on something as benign as a job well done will be used to somehow for a harassment suit against you. So as you can see, there's no helping these types. They only know how to destroy because they are fundamentally broken.

If it's a guy then he's having a macho man crisis. His wife, girlfriend or boyfriend would rather watch reruns of "The Love Boat" then take a roll in the sack with him. This does huge damage to the male ego. How does he get it back? By confronting and "defeating" the men he encounters in the battle field. That battlefield, my friends, is the office. This buffoon wouldn't last 10 seconds in an actual fist fight and would cry the first time he got knocked in the face. But in the office the environment is controlled. He can't be hurt physically and he can use these safe conditions to nurture his bruised ego. Yes, by calling out others and making them look incompetent, he can feel like a man again and rub one out in the bathroom if the vibes get too intense.

What Can be Done?

Let's face it, going to your boss will do little if anything to help because it brings attention to you and the tactics these douche bags are employing don't fit into any code of conduct violations on the books. But since this is a blog and and outlet for my fantasies, we can dream. I've come up with some ideas.

• Have them whisked away to a secret satellite office your company runs out in the middle of nowhere and have them water boarded.
• Rearrange the objects on their desk ever so slightly so that when they come back from wherever they were they can't figure out what's off.
• Find the evil log book they keep on everyone draw pictures over their data in crayon. Don't have any of those? Piss on it and shove it back into their drawer. And wash your hands afterwards!
• Have a fake office contest where they win a trip to the Bahamas and replace their tickets with a one way ticket to Baghdad!
• Take the used coffee grounds from from the office coffee maker and dump them onto their chair before they come into work.  If that's not enough, just dump the whole new fresh brewed pot of coffee onto them and watch the skin blister as they write in pain. 
• Drop 30 a pound box of copier paper on their toes and blame it on the carpal tunnel syndrome you got from typing up all the work they delegated to you.

Ahhhhhhh

Ah, I feel better already and I haven't done a thing. Just used my imagination. The mind is a wonderful thing.

DISCLAIMER: The following was written as humor and is not directed in any way, shape or form to anyone at my current employer. Causing harm to others in the workplace should NEVER be considered a valid option nor is it anything that I personally condone.

Coming up Next on U N L O A D E D.........

My Blackberry addiction. Oh it's bad baby! It's bad!!!!

In my previous post I wrote of my frustrations with where I was in life and if happiness can be achieved by a change of environment. The feedback from you was great and many of you felt that if you were to go someplace else your problems would remain because it's what's going on inside that makes all the difference.

I had said that it seems to be a little bit of both. I think the environment we are in can alter our mindset and our mindset can alter the environment. It's a give and take thing, really. I've been wrestling with all sorts of things that can get me to where I'd like to be and if not get me there, bring me closer. I think when you're not happy you can actually grow comfortable with the unhappiness provided it's a low level of it. This begrudging sense of dissatisfaction actually becomes a comfort zone. This comfort zone locks you in place and you're rudderless. Lost at sea or floating through space. Things are not the best nor are they the worst but you compromise, you accept. You think this is as good as it gets. Taking a risk on something you want, making a sacrifice to get closer to a goal becomes much harder than it ever was. It becomes utterly frightening.

The Fear Factor

You're able to put food on the table, pay the bills, you're employed at a job you don't care for but you can bare it. You think, "Hey, it could always be worse." You use it to stay where you are. You float through life but you keep it comfortable. Easy, predictable. Life throws enough surprises without you pouring gasoline on the fire.

There's that other exciting life waiting out there but the path to get there is unknown. "What if I fall flat on my ass and can't get up from it?" This is a natural fear. I equate it to the same instincts that keep us from sticking our hand into an open flame or sticking our tongue into an electrical socket. It's a survival drive. We protect ourselves from harm and the risk of being harmed. But what happens when you become so comfortable with being unhappy that you turn your back from opportunity?

Opportunity to me is risk. Risk equals reward or loss. The loss part hurts and the pain of a potential and unknown loss is still worse than the loss we feel everyday from playing it safe.

Finding Something More

I think many of us, including myself, have lost a sense of purpose amidst the daily bump and grind of our lives. I think finding a sense of purpose is what will embolden many of us to take that next step and break out of the mundane. But finding that purpose, what your are great at, what you do better than most, is a hard thing to pin down for many. We all have our gifts and talents. We all have our passions which we are afraid to indulge in and pursue because it rocks the boat. We think about it on many a sleepless night or on the way to work or when we're alone. Yet each day that passes, we do nothing or very little about it. Why? Because we are afraid of what's around the corner. We lose control, we face defeat. But maybe the defeat is in accepting the mundane and not taking the risk. Maybe losing the gamble to shake things up isn't a loss at all. Maybe it's an enriching experience that sets us up for a new adventure with new places, new faces and new problems with new rewards. Maybe that is the spice of life.

The Answers are in the Beginning of Buck Rogers

For some reason I was thinking about all the old shows I used to watch on TV when I was a kid and I remembered a show I loved called Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. The character of Buck Rogers has been around since the 1920's but it was revived in the late 70's as a TV show. But before it was a show, it was a movie. And in that movie the Buck Rogers theme song had lyrics. The one in the shows opening did not but there were some episodes where the version with the lyrics played during the closing credits if I recall. Fanboys correct me if I'm wrong.

ANYWAY....the song is called Suspension and is very corn ball and AWFUL in the 70's sense, but fitting to this post and my feelings about things right now. (be warned it's not just cheesy, it government cheese)

Buck is piloting a spacecraft (Ranger 3) back in 1987 and something goes wrong with the voyage and his life support systems screw up and he's frozen for 500 years. He is left drifting endlessly through space as you can see at the end of the clip. While totally digging how hot Erin Grey and Pamela Hensley were I thought to myself, "This is as damn good of a metaphor for things as any." Deep my friends, deep. Pass the bong.



Coming up next on U N L O D E D..... Getting away from it all.

Have you ever had a span of 2 weeks (or more) where everything you do is wrong and you wind up hurting and offending the people you care about without really intending to?

I have found myself in this predicament as of late and it seems the more you try to resolve the conflict, the more the fires rage. In fact, it's like pouring Gasoline on the fire! It's starts out so small, so simple; a comment you may feel is benign, questioning a friend you feel may be going the wrong way, forgetting a small task that you were supposed to do, telling a joke you thought was funny. From there it snowballs into an epic battle. And the feelings of resentment sink in, chilling your soul and turning your stomach.

The litany of angst goes something like this:

You are insensitive.

You are evil and ghoulish. (as the the picture above clearly illustrates)

You don't care.

You're a freeloader and layabout.

Of course there was no true malice behind any of your missteps but trying to explain that is futility. The other party has made up their mind. You are dirt! No way around it.

The Hot Seat

The need to say I'm sorry and sets in. You are not evil, insensitive or some kind of low grade sociopath. You're just you trying to do what you think is OK.

These last 2 weeks I've been getting heat from all directions. None of it was intended to be spiteful. They were the wrong steps at the wrong time and they were amplified like nails across a chalkboard. The heat has since blown over and I'm left wondering if I've been truly insensitive or were they just too sensitive. I also wondered was it really over and were they just pretending to be nice.

Some new responsibilities were delegated to me at work. It's for a VERY MAJOR client that is one of the biggest sports leagues out there yet they have struggled to find their footing in Europe. I suspect they may never but hope they do. While I don't avidly follow this particular sport, many of my friends do and pay money to watch the season on Pay Per View. You can see it for free but you get more if you pay. They are that loyal fans. I wondered with the way things were going as of late, would I screw something up and knock the game off the air. Would there be more anger at me on top of this and also from my colleagues at work? Would there be calls for my lynching in the town square?

That's the thing when you're in this mess Any other mistakes that you are usually forgiven for become high crimes, treason, symbolic murder. "HOW DARE HE!" Some will shout. You're under the microscope, sitting on the hot seat. You've got nowhere to run to.

Redemption

I was grocery shopping last week and was in the parking lot unloading the bags into the trunk of my car. As I began to move the empty shopping cart away so I could back out, I spotted an old man struggling to walk and about to drop everything he was holing on to. The dozen eggs were resting on his forearm and ready to tip over at the slightest move. The gallon of milk was slipping out of his fingers and the other items tucked under his arms were anything but secure.

Time to make a choice.

I could attempt to help the old man, but with the way things were going, be loudly refused while onlookers would falsely think I was trying to rob him. Or, I could have my offer of help accepted, get a cheap thank you and be done with it.

I chose the latter.

He was stunned at the offer at first but realized that he likely wouldn't make it without my help. I asked where his car was and took the milk and eggs in hand and very slowly walked with him to his car. He opened the door and and directed me to place the eggs on the seat and milk on the floor. I did, smiled and told him to have a good one.

As I walked way he said, "You're a good man. God bless you."

Really? I am? Perhaps he's right. And if there is a God out there then may he/she/her or it send that blessing or good karma my way. I'll gladly take it.

Coming up next on U N L O A D E D....... Fear of falling, a followup to the last post of Making a break for it.

They come and go and wake us from our sleep in a fight. Nightmares are a part of life and our brains way of working stuff out. At least that's what some people say. I personally can do without them and at one time they were few and far between. That all changed with this recent battery of medications I've been taking to curb my anxiety and tame my slight touch of asthma. The 2 conditions can feed off one another and can totally fuck up your day. I don't like this so I take the medications while I search for an alternative to deal with the issue. I've told you here before about the side effects of these drugs and both can give you what are called "vivid dreams." I wouldn't mind this if it involved Hawaiian Tropic or Victoria's Secret Models, but they usually don't. Hell, I'd even take a visit from the succubus but no luck there either. These are good old fashioned nightmares and they suck. Today I'll give you a rundown of my nightly trips into the twilight zone.

Nightmare #1: The Super Duper Ultra Orthodox Jew in Brooklyn

There is a BIG, BIG difference between the type of Jew I am versus the SOME of types you'll see scurrying about in places like Williamsburg Brooklyn. Those of you who have been to this part of the Big Apple have seen them all in black with the big beards and all. They have a very tight knit and insulated community which is highly self sufficient. And sometimes they can be a tad unwelcoming to Jews who don't tow their line. But just a tad. Now let's be crystal clear here; I'm not coming down on this sect of Judaism at all, but the ultra orthodox lifestyle to me is.......a FUCKING NIGHTMARE!!!

Dressing in black 365 days of the year, wearing big black hats and growing a big bushy beard is not my cup of tea. Factor in the rule that if you're caught doing anything on Saturday like using the phone or any type of electricity (which warrants a royal beat down) and you'll see it's not fun at all.

Tis the theme of our first nightmare ladies and gents; getting caught using electricity on shabbat. There I was, all in black, living in Brooklyn with a wife I never had before in her standard issue wig and head scarf. We were sharing a cramped apartment with her brother and sister. Everyone was engaged in prayer after an all day affair at synagogue. It was almost sundown and I had to take a leak badly. I got up, went to the bathroom and.....I flipped the light switch. "RICARDO!" Shouted my "wife" followed by a barrage of cursing in Yiddish. Soon her brother and sister were in on it too and then all the Yentas in the apartment complex were knocking on the door waiting for their turn to yell at me.

The next day I was banished from the community which is devastating because ones entire life is supported by the community from cradle to grave. The Head Rebbe ordered me to be stripped of my marriage, apartment and 98 Cadillac which was bigger than my apartment. It was devastating. No one leaves the community and if you do, you lose everything as I did. My support system was shattered and I was forced to live like........a goy!!! Oy vey!! What a nightmare!

Nightmare # 2: The Deadly Mutant Electric Eel in my Aquarium

This was no ordinary electric eel ladies and gents, it was mutated! Like something you see in in the horror movies and highly intelligent as well. Naturally this pulsating bastard ate all my fish and somehow multiplied and spread throughout my apartment. They were in the sink, toilet and bath tub. The HORROR! Not only that but with my little fishies gone there were new mutant creatures swimming about with the eel. Like freakish looking lobster, crabs and fish with giant razor sharp teeth. I was helpless to control these monsters and trapped. Death was certain.
What the fuck?

Nightmare # 3: I'm Stuck in High School

Everyone I graduated with is in their 30's yet we are all still attending High School!!!!! WHY!?!?!? It's half prison, half reform school, part reunion.

I went to a strict all boys Catholic school and hated it now that I look back on it. There is nothing that I wish to relive about it. No girls, no fun, no nothing! It's behind me and then this dream comes up and I'm right back in there. The sad thing is no one else seems to question it. They simply agree to attend class and a fall in line. But not me, I rebel!!!

Why? Because I'm flunking my classes and can't pay attention to the BS, that's why!!! Not only that, we're all in our fucking 30's. My fellow brothers, get a fucking hold of yourselves!!!! I decide to break ranks alone, there is no getting through to the others.

I discover the world outside is a police state. I live my life on the run and in fear. If I am caught, I will be sent back to the evil school.

Not for nothing, but what is this?

Nightmare #4: This House Possessed!

I'm back home living with my grandparents and all seems normal and then, it's all gone. The living room is stripped bare except for the TV and my grandfathers easy chair. The clock on the wall goes backwards and the basement is slightly flooded with just a few items from my childhood and my grandfathers desk and typewriter.

I carry on my life there as best I can. The kitchen is empty, no table or anything. I can't go upstairs for some reason and I'm worried about letting intruders from the outside in.

Then, my grandparents are back and the place is normal. Well.....sort of. One of them will usually be very ill and I have to keep tabs on them and I'm inexplicably driving a late 80's Volvo station wagon. I finally wo