WiFi

Technology, Technology, everywhere..

When I connected to the wireless internet in my condo, I pick up at least 7 other signals. Mine is simply named "Mason" (so clever, right?!). Most people just name their secure connection their first name or condo number. Others are a bit more witty.

I love the idea of someone being funny while full well knowing that they'll never see the person who gets to enjoy their humor laugh. Point being- people name their wireless networks some pretty damn funny things. They're aware that it'll show up on someone's phone, someone's computer next door, or that a neighbor will see it in their list and try to jump onto their network. When I'm on the bus and try to open a web page on my iPhone it will ask if I want to connect to some of the various wireless networks that happen to be in that area, so that's always entertaining. Here's a few of the funny names of wireless networks I've seen lately either on my phone or laptop while in public:

"Where Are The Wires?!"
"XXX Live Nude Shower Cam"
"Get Off My Internet!"

I keep my eye out, now, for the funny ones, gives me a little chuckle.

G'night,
M.db

4 Stars

There is this Italian place that I really like in my area, great homemade pasta. I went the other night and had a deliciously huge meal. Too big to finish, in fact, so I brought the leftovers home and anxiously anticipated eating them for lunch the next afternoon (read: mid-morning).

When I was sitting on the couch consuming my pasta with veal meatballs I found a piece of plastic in my food. More specifically in my mouth after I put the food in there. I just removed the plastic and kept eating. That pasta was too damn good to stop eating over a little piece of plastic wrap. Besides, track record stands that the place rocks my world enough to not worry about one mistake.

It's funny; sometimes when you love something a great deal you're willing to overlook some of its shortcomings and continue on, knowing that as a whole the experience is too good to possibly be destroyed by a tiny ___(insert imperfection, piece of plastic, mistake, etc. here)______.

Something to think about and apply where necessary,
M.db

Seven Thirty Two on the Third

I woke up at 7:32 this morning. I know, because I grabbed my cell phone to see what time it was and thought to myself "ugh, I still have another hour before my alarm is going to go off, why am I awake?!" But I got up anyway because I was wide awake which, if you know me you know, is rare for me before 8am.

It was almost an hour later that I realized it was August 3rd as I was listening to the morning news in the background while I got ready for my day. I still have the voicemail from Brian's mom saved in my iPhone's 'visual voicemail' letting me know he had just passed away. When I realized that was exactly a month ago today I went back to my visual voicemail, it was received at 7:32am, July 3rd. I broke into tears when I realized that exactly a month ago, and right down to the exact minute, I was waking up to you being gone and you still are.

I haven't cried but once since your funeral, until today. Every time I talk about you dying I feel like I'm speaking in third person. When I say how hard it was, when I say how strong you were, when I talk about the immense loss I feel.. it's as if I'm reading a script or recounting someone elses words. I still haven't been able to wrap my mind around the fact that you're gone. I think my mind has taken over and whipped myself into denial the minute my heart starts to hurt. I'll see something and think "oh man, wait'll I tell Brian about THIS" and then I realize I can't, but quickly move my mind on to something else, as if on autopilot, completely out of my control. You're probably just on vacation and coming back soon.

Yesterday I was in the elevator with that one annoying guy who lives in my building that we used to always joke about. I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket, like a reflex, and pretended I was text messaging as I snapped a picture of him to send to you as a joke. It wasn't until after I had already taken the picture that I remembered there was no point in taking a picture because you're not here to send it to. I was even more sad thinking of how I couldn't call you and tell you about another one of my trademarked awkward situations I had just gotten myself into: my cell phone made that obnoxiously loud photo-lens clicking sound effect as I snapped the pic in the quiet elevator. You see I had forgotten to silence the phone before my sneaky photo taking move and it was super obvious I had taken a picture. How creepy of me. Busted!

There's been so many things I've wanted to tell you about in the past month. I walked home from a house party on Friday and had to stop myself from calling you about 20 times to tell you about all the people I ran into and have one of our late-night phone chats about how silly people are. All those silly people are still around but why aren't you?! So many people running around taking up space and yet you were amazing and you're gone and the world isn't a better place as a result. In fact it's worse. A new song came out on the radio that I like, it didn't exist while you were alive. There's a movie I want to see that I KNOW you'd go to with me, it wasn't released while you were living. Everything that happened in your life was put on pause a month ago, today. It's a panic-like feeling that shoots through me when I think about life and time continuing on yet everything in your life stopped on July 3rd, 2009.

You used to get on me all the time for not blogging enough because you liked to read it. I still see your name on my blog's main page listed as one of my blog's "followers." You'd be mad at me for not having blogged in a month and even more irritated at me for writing about you and sad topics TWICE in a row. I know people are supposed to be happy to have had a wonderful person in their life and remember the good times with a smile, but I'm just not there yet, not the smiling part anyway. I'm mad. Yes, I'm so thankful for how much you touched my life and can't even express what an amazing person you were, but I'm still not done being mad you had to go. I am, however, glad you're not hurting. I'm just selfish for now. I WANT to know what you're up to. What are you doing RIGHT now? What were YOU doing at 7:32am when I was waking up a month after you left? Is there even such a thing as 'time' where you are? Can you see what's going on down here? Does it even matter that I wasn't able to email you a photo of the annoying elevator dude as a joke because you could watch that situation unfold from where you are now? If I say something loud enough, will you hear it? If I cried this morning did you know?

I want to tell you how Aaron, Scott, Jen and I are all better friends now because of how much we've bonded over our loss. I want you to know how sweet your family is, how good they all were to us when we were in Kansas for your funeral and how much we've all been in touch. I got to see your hometown!! I want you to know that your nephew you loved so much will always remember you because we're all going to make sure of it. I want to thank you for all the kind things you apparently told your family about our friendship and how important you told them I was to you; I knew, but I had no idea all at the same time. Oh MAN you're sister has done SO good with everything. The funeral was exactly the way you wanted it. You picked the perfect songs and she had them played just like you requested. Oh, and congrats- I bawled like a baby, you turd.

I used to think it was somewhat odd that people would be sad on the anniversary of a loved one's death. I realize it's bound to be a hard day but always figured birthdays and holidays would be the hardest. I don't want to focus on you leaving but I understand now how hard the anniversary of the day someone goes away can be.

I had never heard the song "Ships of Heaven" that you picked for your funeral but its words will forever impact me and remind me of you. "No unforgiven sins and no regrets just the times of our lives that we'll never forget."

I'm going to work on that 'being mad' thing, I promise.

Brian Dec 2008:



Mason, Scott, Brian, Aimee and Aaron - July 14th, 2008:




Aaron, Brian and Mason. July 2nd, 2009:



"Don't cry for me when I'm gone
Keep the faith and be strong
'Cause through it all I've been blessed
I faced my fears
And I've passed the test
So when you look up in the sky
On a sunny day
Imagine me drifting away

I'll be sailing on the ships of heaven
When the tide rolls out for the
Last time
You'll find me sailing on the ships of heaven
Waiting for the day
I come sailing back to you

Remember all the times we had
Some were great and some were sad
But you know that in the end
Our love was stronger than when we began
No unforgiven sins and no regrets
Just the times of our lives that we'll
Never Forget

I'll be sailing on the ships of heaven
When the tide rolls out for the
Last time
You'll find me sailing on the ships of heaven
Waiting for the day
I come sailing back to you."
-"Ships of Heaven" - Blackhawk

M.db

Brian

In the past few years that I have known my friend Brian I have learned so much about friendship and life from him. One of the few people on this planet I know I could reach out to at any hour of the day or night and certainly one of the best friends I've ever had the honor of knowing. He was truly an extraordinary soul that I was privileged to have in my life. I lost that friend to his cancer battle this morning. I'm not sure where to place my emotions just yet. I've cried until I can't cry anymore, or so I think, and then it starts again. The past few weeks have been so hard as his condition worsened. I tried to visit Brian at his apartment every day if possible.

So much of me wants to SCREAM in anger. Anger that years ago when his doctors diagnosed him with this hideous disease they told him he'd never live to see 30 and he died this morning just a week short of his 30th birthday. THAT is not fair. Anger that my calendar says that on July 11th I have a birthday party to attend, Brian's birthday party, and instead his funeral is scheduled to be that day. Anger that I have to bury my friend and the only person I want to call at 3am when I can't sleep because I'm upset about doing so IS him.

I'm comforted that Brian left exactly how he expressed he wanted to in these last few weeks; surrounded by family and friends, not in a hospital. Each of his close family members and close friends were able to be in his apartment all day yesterday after we were contacted to know that things were looking worse. Popping into his room, from time to time, to say hi and visit and then spending time in the other room letting him rest. Brian never pretended that nothing was wrong and as the evening wore on he called his family in to make sure they went over his funeral arrangements one more time with him. In typical Brian style he joked about what songs he refused to have played at his funeral because they were either "too dramatic" or "been done too many times before." His good friend and oncology nurse pulled his family aside to make sure they knew that Brian was making those arrangements because he knew his time was getting shorter.

I want to run in circles because my brain can't wrap itself around what my heart is feeling.

Brian's mom put it best when she said to me last night "I have learned a lot about the process of dying from Brian but, oh, how I've learned so much more about living from him." I couldn't agree more.

After having spent most of the day at Brian's I had to come home to let the dog out and almost didn't go back. I'm so glad I went back, one last time, to see if his friends and family who were gathered there needed anything else. Besides, I knew I couldn't sleep. It was almost 2am when I left his place, but before I did, I stepped into Brian's bedroom to say goodnight because he had woken up again. He perked his eyes up and said "hey!" in a tone that seemed to so casually say "hey there buddy what's up?!", though his voice was soft and strained. I told him I didn't want to disturb him but just wanted to say goodnight before I left. I told him I would see him tomorrow, though. The last thing Brian said to me was "did you have a good time?!" Maybe he was referring to the time I spent hanging out with his friends and family in the next room, or maybe he was referring to the time I've been lucky enough to spend with him on Earth. Either way, he didn't reciprocate when I said I'd see him tomorrow, rather he just said "ok, love you" with a "we'll see about that" tone in his voice and a smile out of the corner of his mouth. He looked at me as I left as if he knew something I didn't know.

A few short hours later, Brian's last remaining close friend finally made it into town on the red-eye flight from Seattle. He got to Brian's apartment at 6am, directly from the airport. Brian passed away 30 minutes later, with his mom at his side, having said goodbye to every close person in his life. She sang him a song that she used to sing to him as he fell asleep when he was a child. As she started to sing it for a second time he stopped breathing.

Yep, Brian, to answer your question I did have a good time. I really really hope you did, too. I'll take your lessons of strength, friendship, devotion and humor with me EVERY single day of my life. I will carry with me the sound of your voice when I need to be calmed down at 3am for whatever pickle I've gotten myself into and no one is there to call. I'll remember hearing you for the last time and I'll answer your question over and over again in my head when I get sad: "Yes. I had a good time."

I can't promise that I won't dial your number still from time to time, just out of habit. No promises that I won't be sad you're gone. But I've got promises for days that I'll never forget you as long as I live.

I hope when it's my time to go I can look back at this life and say "I had a good time" and then turn towards heaven where I know I've got a buddy waiting to show me around. Save me a seat.

Happy early birthday, Brian.
I will miss you until I see you again.

Love always,
Mason.

Waiting to Inhale

Whenever someone jogs past me, and they're all sweaty, I try not to breathe in until they've passed by. You know how you feel that breeze as they run by? I hate when that breeze full of smell hits me. I'll breathe out for as long as possible, sometimes like 15 straight seconds, until they are long gone so as not to suck in any of their sweat-smell. I nearly pass out several times at the gym as a result.

Smells are so weird, they say it's the last thing you forget or the sense that you remember the longest- whichever way you want to look at it. I guess that's why I have walked into a random location and suddenly had a vivid memory of my elementary school cafeteria just because of the smell in that particular place. Speaking of, I could really go for some rectangle shaped pizza from an elementary school cafeteria right about now. You know what I also loved? School spaghetti and meat sauce. I wish it was on the menu at restaurants. If it were served at a restaurant I wouldn't want it to be all fancied up either, I want it to be watery, made in bulk, and served on a tray that has separate dividers for your milk, veggies, bread and main course. Then I want the waiter to take my tray and be able to watch it get rinsed off back in the kitchen with that giant hose that comes down from the ceiling operated by someone wearing a hair net, JUST like in school. Okay maybe not all of those things, but most. How is that for a smell memory?

I don't want to remember people's body odor though. So, moral of the story: I try to not form the memory in the first place. I see 'em coming and I just take a deep breath in and hope that mo-fo is running fast because for the next several seconds this guy is exhaling until they're gone.

M.db

Roaring Delicious

Mason could live off cheese, yes he could. It's sad, really, how good food makes me almost melt with satisfaction. I wish I could travel the world eating things for a living. My job title would be "professional consumer."

I have a new favorite cheese to add to the list. King's Island Roaring 40's Blue Cheese from Australia. The 'Roaring 40's' part of the name comes from the King's Island's 40th latitude location and the roaring winds that pass through that area.



Yum!
M.db

You'll Never Walk Alone

I met a friend downtown today for lunch at 11. Then I ended up walking around for hours and miles downtown with my camera. Chicago is such a gorgeous city, especially in the summer. I walked across the entire downtown area, photographing random things and soaking in the glory of it all. From the Loop, through Millennium Park, down to the South Loop, across to The History Museum, over to the Adler Planetarium and ended at the lake outside of the Museum Campus before returning home. It felt wonderful.

When I finally made my way back up to my place on the train I saw a guy's tattoo that I really liked for some reason. I usually only like a strategically placed tattoo, if at all, or something that obviously means something to the person donning it. I pretended to be messing with my iPhone/iPod and snapped a pic:



M.db

Elevator One Upped (again!)

I seem to keep blogging about things that happen in the elevator. Probably because it's a 45 second to 1 minute situation where you're completely captive with a stranger (or strangers) and strange they sometimes are!

Just now, I got one upped with my "have a nice day" comment, again! I posted previously about someone who I wished a good day to upon exiting the elevator and they responded with "have a GREAT day." Today, I told a man "have a nice afternoon" and I departed on my floor and he replied "have a GREAT afternoon." Not in that enthusiastic tone you might give when you truly want someone to have a great afternoon but rather in a "I can one up ya there, bucko. I'll see your GOOD afternoon and raise you a GREAT one" and then BAM, doors close, and I have no chance to respond with something clever like "oh yeah, well you have a fucking AWESOME afternoon, take that!"

Oh well, I'll be quicker on my feet next time!
M.db

well it IS manure, so...

On the elevator just now, two girls got on one holding a houseplant.

Girl 1: "I heard fertilizer caused house fires, you know, like people don't leave it in their garages and stuff because it can cause fires."

Girl 2: "Well it IS manure, so.."

Girl 1 (after a short, confused pause and in a call-you-out tone): "so...??"

..and that's where the conversation ended. I really enjoyed the flawed logic that Girl 2 decided to dish out to her friend. I mean I can't remember the last time my feces burst into flames upon exiting my body. I guess I flush, though, so who knows?! IS manure flameable? Should I be picking up my dogs 'mistakes' faster than usual on the living room floor for fear of the building burning down? Should I, too, worry about the destructive capabilities of my houseplants and their fertilized soil? I'll probably just not worry about it too much. I've got fire sprinklers in this condo after all.

Today for lunch I popped into PotBelly to grab a sandwich. It was like a child convention in there. 16 screaming children being toted around by mothers who were pregnant (again). It was incredible. I thought I was on a candid camera show, for serious. I said to myself out loud "you've GOT to be kidding me" when 3 pregnant women walked in at the same time and a woman with ANOTHER double-stroller filtered in behind them. If you go to the park, you expect to see a few dogs. But it'd be weird to go to the park and see a herd of dogs, none of which came together. Same with babies, it's fine, I expect to see babies and their mothers wandering around town in the middle of the day but in one restaurant to see a gaggle? Kinda random and weird. What are they all doing, flying north for the winter together in a flock and stopping for lunch on the way?!

People often misunderstand and think that being irritated with screaming children means I hate children and/or the people that bore them. Wrong. I don't care for obnoxiously loud and inconsiderate people in public whether they ARE children or HAVE children. I'm equal-opportunity with what irritates me. If I walked into a public dining establishment and there were 16 screeching parakeets, I'd be pretty irritated at the inconsiderate and obnoxious parakeets and their owners for not controlling them as well but it wouldn't mean I hate birds or bird owners as a general rule.

They just kept filing into the restaurant. While I was in line to order I had my foot (a foot with a toe that I dislocated last week attached to it, a foot that is still black and blue) rolled over by a double stroller twice. No "excuse me" or "I'm sorry." Just a new-mommy attitude of "bow down, world, I have a BABY so all bets are off. I'll do what I want and you will just deal with it because I had sex and a baby came out." All I heard in place of an 'excuse me' was "oh DON'T you?! yes you DO! yes you ARE! oh YES YOU ARE so cute! you ARE so cute, oh YES YOU ARE" coming from evvverrryyyy mother in the establishment in the direction of the other mother's babies.

News flash: they're not going to respond, they're infants.

BREAKING news flash: While you're mindlessly repeating yourself in the general direction of a stroller, your 5 year old, sorry I mean '60-month-old' since mom's can't count in years until their kid is in Jr. High, is screaming and throwing his sandwich on the floor behind you while I try to refrain from throwing mine at his head.

Who are these people who, in a horrible economic environment, are apparently millionaires and able to pop out kids at light speed and support them?! More power to you, just shut them the hell up when you're in public, within reason. Oh and watch where you're going, too. My foot: NOT your stroller's speed bump. My shins: NOT your kids punching bag. My personal space: Not yours.

That being sayd; a mother is the most admirable job in the entire world if you ask me. I personally know some incredible new(ish) moms- Kimberly and Crystal come to mind. I'm sure there's potential to be offended by my rant but let's look at it this way- we've all had bad teachers and seen obnoxious new mommies. Doesn't mean we hate all teachers or moms. The good ones are excluded from the rant:)

Mothers and teachers are the most under-(or not at all)-paid and under-appreciated individuals on the planet yet they do one of the most important jobs. Just like with any job, however, there are plenty of people who are amazing at that job and some who suck at it completely. Unfortunately the ones who sucked at it all had the same plan for lunch today as I did: Potbelly in Lincoln Park.



M.db

A BOAT!

I got very excited just now looking out my window to see a lone yacht cruising into Montrose Harbor across the way. The first of the boats to return to that harbor for the summer. That means warm weather is officially not far off. It's always depressing when the harbors empty out for winter and so thrilling to see them fill back up. As I type I'm still watching the yacht dock itself and wondering why on earth there wasn't more fanfare surrounding it. In my mind there needs to be some fireworks for a firetruck salute where the firetrucks spray water in the air to commemorate the first boat back at the docks for the season. Things would obviously run differently if I was in charge.

Thing number two that was exciting today: Lunch at Qdoba for only 3 dollars. I think people (myself included) don't have casual conversations enough with employees at establishments we frequent. As my burrito was getting constructed I asked the guy behind the counter how his day was going so far. Rather than having to sit there in silence while he made my food we had a clever little chat about how bad mornings suck after a late night, but that he did it to himself because after all he made his own schedule this week. Blah blah, laugh laugh. When it came time to ring my meal up I was a little surprised when he said the total was 3 dollars. You could tell, however, that I was probably the first person all day to say "how is YOUR day going today?"

The receipt read something to the effect of: "Employee Meal Comp; Employee: Chris." I sure hope I didn't take his one and only discounted meal of the day, but either way it was nice.

I wonder how much more friendly the world would seem or what you could learn about another person that you wouldn't otherwise learn if we just said hi more frequently rather than silently coexisting. Then again, there's plenty of days where I'd rather cut my tongue out with a spoon than talk to a stranger. But today, I'm in a good mood, and that boat is now officially parked safely in the harbor across the way..ready to usher in another beautiful Chicago summer.

So thanks for the comp, Qdoba Chris. And hello Spring, how is YOUR day going today?
M.db