I Have Been Blessed

If you have noticed my Simpson-ized image on this blog, you'll assume that I am not a slender individual. For the most part, I'm okay with that.

For the most part.

As a child, I didn't enjoy clothes shopping. Well, what boy does? I liked flipping through the Christmas catalogs from Sears, JC Penney and Montgomery Ward (kids today have no idea what they missed - waiting for the catalog to appear to see all the possibilities of what Santa could bring), but I never looked at clothes.

But then, when I got into fifth-grade, something happened. I was forced to wear something. Red corduroy pants. My mom had purchased them in the "Husky" boys section at Sears (why couldn't they have had a Guess logo or something respectable on the back??), and she thought they would be "so nice and warm when it was cold outside." Well yeah... so is a coat, but I still don't wear it all the time.

The red wasn't really the worst part. The pants weren't made of Ronald McDonald's hair. They were more of a burgandy, as I recall. Kind of a dark red color. And let's me honest - corduroy is not slimming... especially when purchased in the Husky section.

No, the worst part was the sound that they made when I walked. It was kind of a whistling zipper tone - WHHHEEEZZZPPPP, WHHHHHEEEZZZZPPPP. Back and forth, left to right, over and over. You couldn't miss me coming down the halls of Ellettsville Elementary unless you were deaf.

Sadly, no one was.

I remember I was dressed in the red corduroy pants, with my brown work boots, a white collared shirt and a blue v-neck sweater. I believe my dad still utilized Vitalis, which I only remember feeling like water but never dried my hair - it just stayed slick the entire day. I had my part-to-the-right hair stuck indefinitely to my scalp. There I was - spit-shined, and ready for

business.

Dear Lord, what was going on here?

Over the years, my clothing options have evolved. College t-shirts and flannel pants were not really an option during my early-20s. I was going to school and working at a reputable place - a jewelry store - where the tie had to match the pants and the belt compliment the shoes. It was just the way it was.

I learned to iron, fold a hankerchief to be a "spot of color" in a sport coat, and use duct tape to put a temporary cuff in pants (yes, it can be done ladies and gentlemen). I never got to be a slob unless it was a Sunday afternoon or a night at home doing laundry.

So now, at 33... I like nice clothes. I just spent $100 on two shirts for work. I put them on and feel comfortable. They like me, and I like them. It's a good feeling. I like wearing clothes that make me look like an adult... maybe because I often feel like a little kid still.

The picture you see here is from 2005 when I went to a conference in NYC. I'm standing at Ground Zero, and it just felt... well, wrong, to smile. But, I like this picture. I look at it and I don't see the double chin or the wispy hair. I see a guy who appreciated the moment, and it's significance in our history as a people. I remember standing there for the picture and thinking "Don't be a dork, Jim," because I didn't want a shot of me enjoying the scenery.

Sometimes I don't want to be an adult. I like being lazy, and just doing what I want to do when I want to do it. I like being a little rambunctious, and maybe run with scissors for a few minutes. But, I know that deep-down I still have things that I need to do as a man. And that's ok, because I'm lucky enough - really, I'm blessed - to be able to do the things that I want to do. It's really ok.

Just as long as I don't have to wear those damn red corduroy pants ever again.

Searching for...

There are things we have all had an emotional connection to in our lives. It could be our first pet (Matthew was my black labrador) or the texture of the back seat in our parents car (ahhh - pleather). These things bring an instant satisfaction - a feeling that the world is going right and you're right where you need to be.

For me... today... that satisfaction comes in one word. This word didn't exist some years back, but immediately brings a smile to the under-fifty crowd. We've all seen it. We all know it.

YouTube.

According to my page (Yes, it allows me to claim ownership like Charles Ingalls claimed "The Prairie"), I joined YouTube on April 5, 2006. I don't know what was significant that day. I was over 30, so it wasn't to share my dancing abililties from Howl at the Moon Indy for the third-decade celebration. I had not yet been to Cleveland, Ohio, to enjoy the Grand Opening of the "A Christmas Story" House and Museum. Perhaps I was mentally finished with preparing my taxes, so I diverted to YouTube.

Regardless, it's become sort of a warm blanket on a cold night. Just call me Linus, already.

Is it bad that I have watched 7,590 videos just since my registration on YouTube? I honestly don't know. I'm hopeful that repeat views of a video count multiple times (I mean, who hasn't laughed at Scarlet Takes a Tumble or been amazed at the kid who did a green-screen tribute to Michael Jackson), but I have no guarantee of this.

I do know that I have used YouTube as a background diversion at work - listening to a random song that suddenly pops in my head and I must instantly hear the complete version. I have also used it to re-live history - watching news reports of little boys flying across the Rocky Mountains in a balloon, only to tell the nation that he "did this for a show."

Really, Dad and Mom? You didn't think a six-year-old might spill it?

Growing up in southern Indiana was not a Metropolis of activity. We certainly had our daily newspaper (so 1950s), but in junior high and high school we began the transition to adulthood with Lisa Ling, Michelle Ruiz and the rest of the cast on "Channel One." In a twelve-minute newscast we were taught about the transition of Reagan to Bush #1, shown how Algebra is beneficial in life (still waiting on that one), and heard commentary about the concerns of bulimia - interspersed around acne commercials and reminders to volunteer in our community.

When I graduated from high school in 1994, and headed off to college, the internet was new ground. Who knew you could view porn without purchasing it? My sophomore-in-college friends were showing me message boards of stuff that still makes me a bit queasy. But, I had this new thing - email - where I could send messages to my high school friends at their colleges. Granted, when using dial-up, it took about five minutes for the computer to be ready to accept my "Hello" or "When are you coming back to Bloomington?" notes. But, I knew it was something that would be big.

So after fifteen years, a few personal computers, upgrades from dial-up modems to cable, monitors that weighed more than the Freshman Fifteen we all gained... here I am. Sitting here typing to you (and you know who you are) while sharing about a website that brings awareness, intelligence, humor and compassion. We've come a long way, baby.

Someone famous said that. Who was it?

Let me see if it's on YouTube.

Trying To Do The Right Thing... Financially.

Maybe this blogging thing will let me get some frustration out.

Maybe.

It's Saturday. That's my day to get up early, co-host a radio show, and then get work done. When I got home, I went through the mail as I waited for the television repairman to come (thank goodness that one is under warranty). I decided to go through the last few days of mail, since most of what I get anymore is just junkmail.

I see an offer from Direct TV. My mom just got it, and likes it. So does my grandma. Me - I am tired of paying $135.00 each month to Comcast for channels I don't watch and in-and-out internet access. Direct TV's ad includes a note about internet service. "Hmmm," I think. "I should check this out." It goes in the Call Today pile.

Next up is a letter from my insurance company. Good people. The letter says that my homeowner's insurance has not been paid yet. I have to pay nearly $600 by the end of the month for it. "Hmmm," I think. "My mortgage company pays my homeowner's insurance." My mortgage was "sold" a couple months ago, so maybe there is some confusion. The insurance letter goes in the Call Today pile.

Then there is a notice from Citibank. They have been my sole credit card company since 1997 (aside from a Kohl's charge). I have it almost paid off - below $1,000. I'm thinking the letter is an increase in the credit line.

Not so much. My interest rate has jumped to 29.99%.

Call Today pile.

I first speak to George with Direct TV. I had to provide my telephone number first ("Please speak your home telephone number so we may begin your registration for Direct TV." Ummm, no. Not ready to sign up). George, of course, is a non-native English speaking individual. He says that in order to tell me the price of internet service, I must first sign up for the Direct TV. I try to explain that I am not ready to sign up, because I want to know more on the pricing. Of course, between the 300 "customer service agents" in the room, he is hard to hear and hard of hearing. Somehow he came up with $60 for internet and phone (which I don't believe I need).

I asked about the pricing for Direct TV, and he said "Well, how much do you pay now, sir?" I responded with "Well, I'd rather see what your offer is." He came back with "Well, how do I know how to beat your provider if I don't know the price." I fired back "Well, if you would just tell me the honest price, then we'll see where we stand."

He hung up on me.

I called back, and (un)fortunately got a nice lady on the phone. She apologized, but I'm sure George was back to fighting the mercenaries or something in the country of his origin. The lady said the internet would be $20 (how did it drop 66% so fast??). BUT... again, she couldn't confirm that price without me signing up for Direct TV.

Call Later pile.

Next up, the mortgage/homeowner's insurance. I got through relatively easy, but I was stuck with a guy who liked to mumble into the phone while talking to me. You know the ones - "OK, so I need to click this, then type in 315-2B for the code, then... oops, wrong button..."

He finally told me that I needed to send a copy of the insurance bill to the new mortgage company "right away" so a check could be issued. Hmmm... isn't that was the mortgage company is supposed to do? I am paying them each month... on time... so... yeah.

Call Later Pile.

Finally, I called Citibank. The automated voice at the other end of the phone (let's just call her Cindi Citibank) was so nice. She was gracious when asking for my account number and if I was having a good day (because automated voices can sense urgency). Then, Cindi left me, and I was on the phone with a man whose name had no vowels. I would imagine it like a toddler hitting keyboard open-palmed, and that being the person's name. Sort of like a one-armed bandit, but no one wins.

I explained to Mr. Citibank that a 29.99% interest rate was ridiculous, and completely unacceptable. I've been with Citibank since 1997. They have funded trips, parties, trips, clothing, trips... and have always been by my side. I feel a gentle tap on the shoulder when I pull out the card - like an old friend saying "Hello again" when I least expected to see him.

I was told to "hold a minute" while an Accounts Manager would look at my account and determine if my interest rate could be lower. I waited for a few minutes, and then when Mr. Citibank came back, he said that no one was available due to the large call volume Citibank was currently experiencing. He suggested I call back later.

Call Later pile.

So, in trying to be proactive, and save a few bucks, and get things lined out, I get hung-up on by a potential new cable company, told what to do by my new mortgage company, and spanked by my credit card company. My Call Today pile shifted to a Call Later pile.

Oh, and I still need to pay my regular bills. And the IU Credit Union website is down.

Thanks for reading. Please Call Later.