What does this mean for me?

Well, the major downside is obviously not getting to see the woman I love for about 5 days. Each day will begin, and end, without getting to see her.

It basically sucks.

But I’m the type of guy who looks at the brighter side of things so here are some things I can take advantage of while the house is “all mine”.

1.) The toilet seat can stay up

2.) I don’t have to shut the bathroom door

2a.) With the door open I don’t have to stop watching whatever I’m watching

3.) I can let the house get as cold as I wish

However there is one very important item that I’m taking particular advantage of.

4.) Horror movie marathon!

You see, she’s not a big fan of horror flicks. I considered myself lucky when I got her to watch the original ‘Halloween’ or the remake of ‘The Wolfman’. When it comes to anything remotely scary it isn’t recommended that I hold my breath.

This afternoon I began easy with ‘Troll Hunter’. It’s a Norwegian “found footage” movie about trolls; much like Paranormal Activity here in the States.

After that I continued with ‘The Stuff’; a cheesy flick from 1985 about a white goo that comes up from the Earth that eventually gets marketed and sold to the general public as a dessert…which then turns people into violent zombies.

As I write this I’m watching ‘Insidious’ and quite honestly it’s seriously wigging me out. There are some genuinely freaky parts of this movie because it’s all about demon possession and haunting; topics that really get my vivid imagination going.

So, things won’t be able to end there because I’m going to have to sleep eventually and that will require my eyes to be shut.

Does that mean I’ll change genres? Heck no. That would be smart…but we all know that just isn’t me.

The kicker; I have a 1/2 marathon tomorrow morning (7am) that I was hoping to set a personal record by beating the time of 2:18:03.

Fortunately, Velma is all sorts of incredible and not only has she provided some natural remedy knowledge (chopping up a fresh garlic clove to swallow with honey) she’s also making me soup tonight and is picking up crackers and 7-Up.

My plans for after work: take a hit of the garlic/honey magic, go to the gym and sit in the sauna for about 15-20 minutes, then go home and take a nap.

Tonight, feast on soup (made with love) while becoming a couch zombie likely watching TV shows on Netflix.

I do apologize for the major lapse in writing. What are the usual excuses people give? Work, relationships, family, other hobbies, lack of time, being lazy…blah blah. You get the drift.

But I do have to say that I’ve been considering reformatting this blog (yet again). Article topics are becoming difficult to think of (on an original standpoint) so a large majority of my relationship writing, and advice, will probably end up being focused on working with the wonderful people at ‘LemonVibe‘.

Hopefully this construction period will be fruitful and I’ll maintain your interest in my random ramblings.

Cheers!

For years her food of choice was cut up hot dogs. Her favorite toy was a little spiky pink ball that had a squeaker. Occasionally, she would have these bursts of energy where she’d run around the house at super-sonic speeds.  There was even a little blue blanket she enjoyed seducing and “having her way with”. A favorite “past-time” of mine was whenever I had fries (the fast food variety) I would stick them up my nose and then leaning down for her to eat directly out pf my nose. I was young; this was incredibly funny.

Most nights she would sleep at the foot of either my, or my sister’s, bed. This was sometimes problematic since I shifted a lot while sleeping and would eventually end up lightly kicking her. At times she would then get up and go sleep somewhere else. Other times she would simply shift around a bit and hunker back down.

One particular evening, when I was relatively young, I began crying hysterically while trying to go to bed. When my parents came in asking what was wrong where I simply replied, “Baby doesn’t love me anymore!” My rational to justify this was because she had chosen to sleep in my sister’s room a few nights in a row.

Another evening, now in high school, she had fallen asleep at the foot of my bed. I awoke feeling…damp. At first I thought I had wet myself. Feeling around my torso and pants I realized that would have been nearly impossible as only the foot of my bed was wet.

That right…my dog pissed on me while I slept.

*****

It was the summer before beginning 2nd Grade when we moved into our new house. Also that same summer we ended up getting another dog; a black lab named Bush. At just a year old he was over 60 pounds and still had some growing to do.

Bush was a very special dog. He had a purpose that many other dogs will never have. He probably protected hundreds of people and served the community in ways they will never know.

I remember the first time I met him. He was in the back of the jeep pacing around with the vigor any young pup would have. Excited for this new addition to the family I would stick my arm in the back where it was greeted by his nose and tongue; doing the dog thing expressing his joy and happiness about meeting his new family.

He had a deep, soothing bark that could sound welcoming or authoritative depending on what he felt was necessary. We played frequently in the back yard with his training tools and big rubber ball.

Extremely well-trained his most affectionate talent was nothing anyone could have ever taught him. If you were to sit in front of him, then feign passing out, he would approach slowly, smell you for a few moments and then begin to lovingly lick your face; much like he was trying to bring you back to life with his love.

You could tell he had a heart of gold.

He enjoyed to snuggle. If you were ever on the floor, covered with a blanket, he would plop down right next to you. He was the best pillow ever.

When home alone he went everywhere I went (even upstairs where he was often banned from going). Very little could keep us apart.

We protected each other.

*****

The summer just before my senior year of high school Babe’s health began to quickly decline and one afternoon she had a stroke. Her mobility got worse and her energy level was next to nothing.

It was after school, the second full day of my senior year, when I entered the pet clinic. Everyone working there already knew who I was. I was greeted with the usual “Hello”, “Hey” or “Hi, Matt”; but hidden behind these pleasant greetings were tones of sympathy and sadness.

I walked into the backroom scanning the rows of small kennels. Babe was sleeping in a tiny kennel that was at eye level; her back towards the caged door.

Quietly I opened  the door to pick her up and turn her so she would be facing me. It seemed to be difficult for her to even open her eyes. I stood there running my hands through her fur as she lay there looking at me.

I may not have said a word. I simply stood there and gave her the love and affection I had tried to show her every day that we had her.

I knew that this would be the last day I would see her. The last day she would know my touch.

When the emotions became too much to bare I gave her a kiss on the head and picked her up to turn her back to the door again.

I didn’t want one of the last things she saw to be me walking away from her.

*****

It was December of the same year; not even four months after losing Babe.

Bush’s healthy had been at a steady decline for some time. His years of work had begun to take toll on his body. Medication had little effect to counter his aliments like arthritis. There were times he could not even put his head down to sleep. You could see the pain in his eyes.

It was after another school day when I found myself entering the same pet clinic. Time was short as I was scheduled to work later that afternoon. Again, I made my way back to the kennels.

Bush was laying on the ground. From the moment I entered the room his head jerked up, excited to see one of his best friends. I sat on the ground with him where he moved around with what felt like a nervous energy. I think he knew this trip would not be like any of the others in the past.

We sat together for probably only 15-20 minutes, though it felt like only seconds, and hours, all at the same time. Too little, and too much, time to say goodbye. I spoke to him as I had been for years…the only way I knew how…like he was any one of my other friends. The entire time he did not stop moving.

The time finally came where I had to leave. I gave him a big hug and kissed the top of his head.

It wasn’t until I stood up and began to walk towards the door that his motion stopped. He froze. Just staring at me. Looking at me with his big loving eyes, never breaking his gaze. I doubt he even blinked.

He knew. He knew what was going on. It broke my heart. I had to go back and give him another hug. Nothing could stop my tears at this point. I couldn’t be strong anymore. I couldn’t hide my sadness from him.

As I made my way to the front door of the clinic I saw my father approaching. He was coming there to go through exactly what I had just experienced. I put on my sunglasses to hide my eyes.

I had to hide the sadness, hide the tears. As hard as this situation was for me, I knew it would be that much harder for him.

*****

There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss those two. The joy they brought into the house was impossible to measure. Sure, we may have grown frustrated with them at times, but regardless we loved them. We would, and will, always love them.

Babe and Bush were more than just pets. They were my friends. They were my family.

And I can only hope that I left a mark on their lives as deeply as they have left a mark on mine.

Oddity? Yes. I think oddity would be an appropriate term.

Most may say the appendix would fit under that category better but when you really think about it, the heart is a remarkably unusual thing *in its own right*

The heart makes us wonder.

Have you ever taken the time to seriously consider how versatile the heart is? It can feel so many different emotions.

Love. Fear. Sadness. Cheer. Jealousy. Envy. Desire. Weakness. Honor.

You name it, it’s likely in there.

I believe it was Shrek who said something along the lines of, “An ogre is like an onion, it has many layers.” The heart is the same way. It has many layers whether you are an ogre, an animal, or a human being.

Sarah Bareilles has some great lyrics:

All the colors
Of the rainbow
Hidden ‘neath my skin

Hearts have colors
Don’t we all know?
Red runs through our veins
Feel the fire burning up
Inspire me with blood
Of blue and green

I have hope
Inside is not a heart
But a kaleidoscope

The heart. Our emotions. How we feel. They always shift. Always change their colors.

Versatile. Keeping us on our toes. Though it may sometime be frustrating, it provides one heck of a ride.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/39500047@N06/

This move isn’t because I believe my life is that exciting, nor do I have a lot to say or intend to share random intimate (or not-so-intimate) moments.

It will more-so be an outlet for some creative “projects” that are brewing within the electrical jolts firing within the brain.

However I do find myself stuck at one very important detail. A Twitter name. InsideTheNiceGuy is too long. TheNiceGuy is taken. I’ve like to avoid adding a random number at the end of it. One option still available is NiceGuyBlog.

Thoughts? Opinions? Any and all suggestions are welcome and uber-appreciated.

*EDIT – 2/22/2012: I can now be followed: @The_Nice_Guy_M

An additional treat, here’s the official music video for ‘I’m Not A Vampire’ by Falling In Reverse; the song that has inspired the next musical short I intend to begin writing.

Please go over to Simply Solo and check out Catherine’s brilliant idea of a Dear Valentine post. A very wise person even left a comment stating that this post serves as a purpose to “remind everyone that Valentine’s Day isn’t just a day for lovers but a general day of love…applied to any person, place, thing or idea that our heart desires.”

Now that I’ve said that…

Valentine’s Day is probably one of my least favorite holidays. At times I’ve gone as far as saying that I hate it. That is not true. Hate is a strong word.

People! We don’t need to be told by a day that we should let someone know you love them.

You can do that every. freaking. day.

I do.

I tell Velma that I love her every day. Whether it be by an action (getting coffee ready virtually every morning), vocally saying it, or giving the other a big hug and kiss after a long work day.

Get it?

Good!

But this isn’t going to be a post about Valentine’s Day really. Sure, I could tell a little story about how I once celebrated with some friends in the fashion of ‘Anti-Valentine’s Day’ by going to Applebee’s for dinner and then watched The Exorcist.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dark_/

No. This is a story about love. The power of love. *cue Huey Lewis and the News*

I believe in love.

I believe love is the strongest emotion out there. Love can conquer all. It can beat down any opponent.

Love could have sealed the Necronomicon, fought off the Dark Side, carried the ring to the Mordor and defeated Voldemort while piloting the Enterprise through Jurassic Park.

Love can roundhouse kick Chuck Norris.

This reminds me of an episode of one of my all-time favorite TV shows, Boy Meets World.

If I remember the situation correctly Topanga (Danielle Fishel) was breaking off her relationship with Cory (Ben Savage) due to the divorce of her parents. Her rationalization was that if love and marriage, as strong as she believe her parents shared, could dissolve and “die” then how could she believe in love?

Cory was heart-broken. It lead not only to a number of humorous escapades but some life lessons for both he and Topanga. But after the initial shock of the situation sunk in with Cory his attitude changed (within just a couple of episodes).

He wasn’t going to give up.

He believed in love. What he and Topanga shared was real. They were meant to be together and he believed that. He never gave up.

Eventually his devotion not just to her, or their relationship, but to love itself helped Topanga regain faith in the idea again. Love is what you make of it. If you love someone, and believe in it with all your heart then there isn’t anything you can’t do.

Yes. I just cited a television show for a lesson on love. When it comes to television relationship (platonic or romantic) this was most pure.

So call me a hopeless romantic. Call me crazy. Call me naive. I don’t care.

And though I could eventually have a weak moment or two in my life, and begin to have doubts, it won’t be long before my heart will remind me that the Beatles said it best…

“All you need is love.”

…and that is most certainly worth fighting for.

Did you know rabbits can swing dance? They can, at least they can when they are actually Heather Graham, dancing with Jon Favreau in Doug Liman’s 1996 awesome flick ‘Swingers‘.

This is what I’ve been watching while wrapping presents this evening. Yes. I did not do a shred of wrapping until Christmas Eve; while everyone else has gone to bed. I figured if I was lucky enough to catch Santa on his stop here maybe there would be an elf, or two, who could help me out. However, by the time I finished and went to put the presents under the tree it looked like he had already come and gone.

Perhaps Santa is a ninja...

He’s one sneaky guy. I bet you he’s seen ‘The Thomas Crown Affair’ many times.

This has been a different Christmas Eve than many of those from my past. Some things were the same; namely going to Barnes and Noble to do a little reading and enjoy a cup of coffee. While standing at the cafe’, trying to decide on a drink, I figured I’d ask the barista which she preferred: the Peppermint Mocha or the Gingerbread Latte’. Alas, my plans were foiled when she said she doesn’t drink coffee.

I don’t know about you, but when I first started working at Starbucks (back in LA), I wasn’t a coffee drinker but I still an idea about the options we offered. Plus, how hard is it just to give a little preference. Take the coffee out of the formula: do you like peppermint mocha or gingerbread more?

*If you care to know, I got the Gingerbread and it was pretty darned good*

So, I sat there. Enjoyed my drink. Listened to some music. Continued reading the current book of choice ‘Life’s That Way‘ by a client from my talent agency days in LA; Jim Beaver.

Be warned if you pick this book up *which I recommend you do* though Jim states he is not 100% honest with all of his feelings in his letters, the main composition of this memoir, it is still one of the most truthful and open pieces of non-fiction I have ever read. This is a book about a very personal time in Jim’s life when he, and his wife, discovered she had cancer (I believe Stage IV lung cancer).

I started this book a long while ago, and it’s just taken me what seems like even longer to push myself to read it. It is partially strange to read the inner thoughts of another individual about something so personal. It’s one thing with it being so personal, it’s another that this is a person I actually know. Someone I used to work with, occasionally talk to on the phone (usually business related) and would casually converse with when he visited the office.

Jim is a stand-up guy. I highly respect him, not only as an actor but as a person as well. This book has only further solidified this regard towards him.

All in all, I think a lot can be said that I was almost brought to tears reading some entries in this book while sitting in the middle of a Barnes and Noble. Public crying. What has become of me.

Did I just get majorly side-tracked? I did.

That was basically the only tradition that really held up this year. Reading at a book store. Due to some snow, and not-so-friendly roads, some church services were cancelled and we did not go to service this year.

A larger difference is that my grandfather (on my mother’s side) is not around this year. He passed away back in July. *July is becoming a not so pleasant month since my other grandfather passed away in July in 2003.* However, after my niece and nephew were put to bed I, along with my mom, dad, sister, and brother-in-law, all had a glass of wine and toasted in honor of my grandpa.

But one other tradition is standing tall. I’m up late, Christmas Eve, in the basement because I no longer have a bed at my folks house.

I figure it’s 1:01am and I should probably get to sleep since we’ll probably be up no later than 7:00am. Since I won’t be able to go out for an Americano in the morning, I’m going to have to settle for regular home-brewed.

Merry Christmas all.

And to all you fellow insomniacs; I hope you find something good to watch on TV. (WarGames just started on G4).

Call me a softy but I’m a sucker for the basic movie theme where, at the end, the Christmas spirit conquers all.

A few weeks back I finally saw Elf for the first time. Something struck deep within my heart towards the end *spoiler alert* when the entire world began to sing to prove their belief in Santa Claus.

A world joined together where the only thing that mattered was the magic of Christmas.

It made me think back to the days when I was younger and had those wonderful innocent thoughts.

Times when my family would be dining at the grandparents on Christmas Eve and my folks would make the occasional phone call to confirm the current geographical location of Santa and his reindeer. My father’s work  provided a nice “benefit” where he could rely on his co-workers to provide a little glee within the imaginative minds of young children.

Times during high school when our show choir would perform carols downtown or visit hospitals and assisted living facilities to bring smiles to complete strangers.

A time when good things could happen purely due to a magic that was pure, innocent and mysterious.

As we get older we begin to lose this particular type of innocence. Though it’s not lost forever. There are ways to find it again; to bring the incredibly warm feeling to your chest without having to gulp down boiling hot cocoa.

These ashes of Christmas past can be born again and rise like a holiday phoenix.

Where we once found joy in the personal experience of Christmas magic we now play a very important part to make it just as mystical for the children in our lives. Having a niece and nephew has helped me clearly see this. The familiar feeling when they run down to the tree, in their footsie pajamas, and scream out of excitement upon the discovery of missing cookies and a half empty glass of milk.

Magic

That is better than any physical item wrapped under a tree. Giving the gift of magic. Of imagination. Of pure innocence and the belief that anything is possible if you just truly believe in it.

The desire to do good will towards our fellow-man is stronger around this time of year.

To me, the general population is happier, more pleasant and less selfish. There are more smiles seen while we go about our daily routines. Complete strangers are more conversational; such as when you’re standing in line with other customers or chatting with the employee at the register. Little acts of generosity are observed whether it’s someone giving up a seat in a waiting area, holding a door for someone else, donating to those in need, volunteering or generally any random act of kindness.

Everyone seems to be that much more willing to give.

Sure, there are Scrooges out there but all in all the weight of the world seems to be high on Christmas fumes (perhaps the chestnuts are burning over that open fire?)

Last week, while driving to work, a local dealership gave a car to a family in need. Letters had been written to a radio station to nominate someone worthy of this bit of holiday charity. The letter that won (from a random drawing of the most heart-warming stories) was incredibly moving. But the real tear-jerker was listening to the winner during the live phone call where one of the morning show personalities read the letter; followed by the dealership owner giving them the car.

The gratitude in their voice was real.

The tears in their eyes were real.

This person witnessed what they probably consider a miracle.

Magic.

Magic done by a regular person who took the time to realize that they could make a difference; even if it was to a single person.

The fact is, we all have the potential to make a miracle happen. We all have the ability to create magic.

We all have the potential of doing anything…if we only believe.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/lewcrue/

You haven’t?

Well then. Grab a drink, your favorite snack, and go here.

This has been circulating around the Internet (so I’m told) and with this being *somewhat* a dating/relationship site I figured it couldn’t be overlooked without adding a comment here and there.

Whether or not this letter is real has yet to be determined. We are all aware of how things get started on the Internet and therefore the world-wide web is not often a credible source. For all we know someone drafted this up as a satire on a first date they have had, or as an exaggeration of a conversation they overheard. Perhaps this will eventually end up on Snopes.

For the sake of this article let’s pretend this letter is 100% real. It is also reasonable to understand that there are obviously multiple factors that we are unaware of; time frame between the date and the e-mail, how the actual date went, how they both were acting during the date (was she actually bitchy or was a complete ego-maniac), how long the date lasted, how they met, how long they had been speaking before the date and so on.

Anyone else think this is a prime example of how not to get a second date with a girl? This could seriously be printed in a dating book and broken down into various stages on precisely what not to do and not to say.

Would anyone like to share their opinion on Mike?

The personal opinion of this author? He’s pretty clueless. *And by only saying that I’m being extremely kind*

He makes some valid points *go with me on this for a second* but the method he uses to voice his opinions/concerns is absolutely ludicrous.

The only thing I could remotely agree with Mike on is the complete cold shoulder Lauren has given him by not returning any phone calls or e-mails. This is no excuse for his actions though as completely brushing someone off is kind of expected in the dating world; particularly after a single solitary date. Neither person is invested in the other so the odds of feelings being hurt are not very high for either party.

Too bad no one told Mike this. Credit does have to be given where it’s due and commend him on his optimistic attitude regarding the future they could share together. We’ve all heard of love at first sight and often couples will answer the question of, “How did you know you wanted to be with him/her?” and they simply reply, “You just know.”

If this is how Mike felt, he began his e-mail horrible to convey this. The first paragraph could only be more flawed if he threatened to kidnap her dog.

“I’m disappointed in you. I’m disappointed that I haven’t gotten a response to my voicemail and text messages.“

Really Mike? This is how you want to start off a message to a girl you see a future with, pointing a finger? She could have had a family emergency. She could have been in an accident and currently comatose at the ICU. She could be washing her hair.

“I’m not trying to be harsh, patronizing, or insulting in this email.“

If you have to say this you’re coming off as harsh, patronizing and/or insulting.

“By the way, I did a google search, so that’s how I came across your email.“

Congratulations! You’ve successfully been upgraded to stalker-like status!

http://screenrant.com/halloween-2-review-kofi-24138/

Dude, if she wanted you to have her e-mail (or any other information for that matter) she would have given it to you.

—-

*to be continued – Part Two: Inflating your ego and parenting your date.*