"Global Warming is preventing Santa from flying sleigh," says elf.

NUUK, GREENLAND--Well, it's that time of year again. The carolers are out, the Christmas trees are decorated, and the kids are ready to see gifts as far as the eye can see from that jolly red-suited man, Santa Claus.

But will those gifts ever come?

"We lost a lot of presents in the workshop. We just couldn't move everything out quick enough," says Petre, Santa's right-hand elf. Global Warming/Climate Change has proven to be the North Pole's untimely demise. A beautiful frozen tundra that was once populated by Santa's workshop, elves, reindeer, and the like, the North Pole is practically a puddle, now. "Global Warming is preventing Santa from flying his sleigh!"

"It sorta happened the way you fall asleep," said the jolly man himself, "slowly...and then all at once. We hardly had time to move everything. We're lucky we escaped with this much." Santa's shop, once a pristine gift warehouse, is now a half-built dilapidated shed in the middle of Nuuk, Greenland.

"Somehow, there is just enough snow here that, if I can get my sled going, I might still be able to deliver presents to half of the world instead of no one at all." Santa continued saying that there will be a lottery drawing the day before Christmas for any individual families who would like to participate.

"Unfortunately, due to the destruction of my ho-ho-house, my workshop, and even my marriage with Mrs. Claus, who I ensured that the people of Earth would never let anything like this happen, I'll only be able to deliver to a couple billion people this year--and that's if I can get my sleigh off the ground. I'd expect those with the most Christmas spirit will participate in the lottery."

Santa, who lost twenty pounds hauling gifts and other valuables from the North Pole to Greenland, is concerned that he may not be able to fit into his suit this year.

"If I want to fit into my suit by the time Christmas Eve comes around, I'll have to inject cookie dough straight into my fat cells. No ethical doctor would ever do such a thing, which is why I've been seeking the aid of a medical professional out of Princeton-Plainsboro, New Jersey."

At press-time, Santa refused to tell us the name of this medical professional, but all evidence points to a once drug-ridden misanthrope: Dr. Gregory House. We tried to get in contact with Dr. House and failed, but according to former Chief Administrator of Princeton-Plainsboro, Dr. Lisa Cuddy, Dr. House no longer works there and has since been declared missing.

Way Out

In case you were paying attention

You were right

The water entered my lungs and never left

It was my choice to enter the ocean

Even though you told me not to

I went in

I thought I could swim

I could

But the undertow proved to be stronger than me

You already knew that

In case you were paying attention

The dirt entered by eyes and never left

It was my choice to play in the mud

Even though you told me not to

I went in

I thought I was safe

I was

But the mud proved too unpredictable

You already knew that

In case you were paying attention

The vines took hold of my wrists

It was my choice to pluck the grapes

Even though you told me not to

I went in

I thought I was careful

I was

But I stayed too long

You already knew that

In case you were paying attention

Constricted veins stopped the blood flow from my beaten heart

It was my choice to take needles to my arms

The red river inside me formed a brown puddle below

You were not there to tell me not to

I went in

I did not care

I did not

You were not paying attention

But I already knew that

Broken transmission

Phantasmagoria

Wow  

What beautiful  

Colors  

I encounter on this  

Ascending kaleidoscopic  

Elevator  

Rising so high as  

The wind lightly brushes  

My face  

Butterflies filling my  

Stomach and rising to my  

Head in an unparalleled  

Euphoria  

Slowly rising to the  

Pinnacle of this  

Escaping  

White light as it  

Runs away from   

Prismatic confines  

Now  

Reaching the apex of this  

Luminescent rainbow  

Palms sweaty  

Forehead beading   

Excitement contained as it is  

Ready to let  

Loose  

In unencapsulated glory  

And slowly beginning to   

Slide down this  

Eternal and   

Incomparable beauty  

Speed picking up  

Nerves running rampant   

Rush of blood to the  

...  

Eyes open and  

Head rises up while my  

Hands clinch the back  

Bed post as  

Perturbed  

Realization  

Sets in  

Left wrist to eyes with  

Illuminescent watch showing  

Early morning numerals  

Head back to  

Down  

Face pointing up  

Work starting soon  

Eyes falling shut  

As alarm awaits to  

Sound off  

Tick tock  

Tick tock

Somewhere Between You and Oblivion

Wake up.

Shower.

Get dressed.

Self-examine.

Hair, face, clothes, shoes.

Well enough?

For them?

For you?

Why does an object slightly out of place make you feel lost?

Two extra steps to the left of your night stand to grab your wallet or purse, and suddenly you forget your keys.

Routine.

They see you. You see them. Then suddenly they don't see you. You don't see them.

Somewhere between you and oblivion.

Limbo.

When you escape the confines of ill-established emotion, are you lost or are you found?

Tumbleweed crossing a deserted road.

Fumbling and stumbling up and down.

Floating along only to awaken with the sensation of pinpricks along your sleeping arms.

They don't go away.

They serve as a reminder.

A reminder that your pillow is the closest thing you have at night.

The only thing there in the morning.

Repeat.

But then maybe...

Planned Pro-Life

I know it's been a couple days--and things have slowly calmed down--but is anyone as pissed about the Planned Parenthood attack as I am?

This is a joke, right? I mean it has to be! Self-proclaimed Christian white guy shoots up a Planned Parenthood, because he didn't bother to fact-check bullshit that spewed out of a politician's,and Fox News anchors' mouths.

Moreover, the media tried to pin him as a psycho. Not a terrorist. Not a Christian terrorist. Just a psycho. Does this rhetoric sound familiar? It does to me! Any time a white person commits an act of terrorism, he's just a psycho. If a person of any other nationality committed the exact same crime, a different rhetoric is used. Which begs the question: Does Fox News and other similar "News" outlets pick rhetoric out of a hat? If a black guy kills a ton of people, what's the first thing we tend to hear? Say it with me! That's right: A race/hate crime. If a tan-skinned individual commits the same act, what's the first thing we tend to hear? Say it with me! They're Muslim! Linked to ISIS! No refugees!! We're all gonna dieeeee!!! Real investigative reporting seems few and far between anymore. I think 60 Minutes is the only news-type show that I can actually trust. The amount of research that goes into each of their segments is noticeably a lot.

As a side note: I'm sick of people who are until-the-child-is-born pro-lifers. Some of these people murder for no reason, like the sick person who shot up the Planned Parenthood, while others care more about war than finding peace. How ass-backwards can people be?

- PatInTheHat

This Is Such An Important Perspective That I'm Blogging It

http://www.techinsider.io/syrian-refugees-should-be-weclome-in-the-us-according-to-phil-klay-2015-11?utm_content=buffer43954&utm_medium=social&utm_source=facebook.com&utm_campaign=buffer-ti

- PatInTheHat

Take A Step Back; A Deep Breath; Think

Chivalry is dead, but kindness is infinite. 

I made this claim quite a few posts ago, but the latter half of the sentence is what I'd like to focus on today, but with a bit of a twist: Kindness is infinite, but that doesn't mean "be stupid."

I've said on many occasions that some of the happier points in my life were when I was dumb. "Stupid and happy" is how I phrased it.

All of that said, let's not be kind and stupid. What am I talking about? Well, refugees, of course.

Look, I think it's super kind of us to lend a helping hand to Syrian refugees--I'm aware that it's also a part of our constitution to do so. I want to help them! That said, I think it's a legitimate national security threat--at this point in time--to simply let anyone into our country without, at the very least, being vetted first.

It's very important to be kind and loving, but we shouldn't be unintelligible at the exact same time.

To those that don't want to help refugees in this country because the refugees are likely Muslim, you're completely missing the point. There could be Daesh mercenaries disguised as Syrians. Shortly after the attack on Paris, a lot of people were blaming Syrian refugees. And for all the people saying that's completely untrue, they're not wrong. Of course the Syrian refugees didn't attack Paris, but what if certain Daesh disguised as refugees entered France? It would be very hard to prove that, since the perpetrators of the heinous attack have since been killed, but I would not say it's a far-fetched idea. These people operate stealthily. They have very recently made threats to attacking 5 different states within our nations boarders. Could these attacks happen whether we let refugees in or not? Absolutely. But why take the risk right now without at least vetting these refugees?

Let me reiterate in case it's not clear: I am fully aware that the refugees, actual ones, are not the problem. Right now, Daesh are flying so far under the radar that we have no idea who they are or where certain ones could be. If any of you have watched the show The Following with Kevin Bacon, the Daesh remind me of the same kind of clique. A leader brainwashes a ton of people, and those people carry out the deeds of the leader. Unfortunately, though, the Daesh have so many sporadically placed leaders that when the news tells me that the US and France helped kill a a Daesh leader I take it with a grain of salt, as opposed to how I felt we when we captured, say, Osama Bin Laden.

To conclude, I think it is important that we help Syrian refugees find refuge here, but I think it's equally important that we, as a nation, do our due diligence to ensure that we're not letting Daesh members waltz into our country with suicide packs strapped to their chests.

Let's be smart about this, people.

- PatInTheHat

Daesh Is Getting Crazy

For those who have died, we are sad. They, and their affected families, are in our thoughts during this time. Paris, Lebanon, etc.

What we need to make sure of is that our sadness does not turn into a blinding rage--though I know for many it already has. It's very easy to be so overcome with emotion that fighting fire with fire feels like it makes the most sense even if it does not. It's much harder, though more necessary, to fight fire with water. In this case, water is a sound mind; a loving heart. Killing 400 innocent people to kill one Daesh leader is counter-productive. That move was exactly what they wanted. The more we kill innocent people, the more we look like them. They use this information to brainwash even more people into believing that we are the real monsters. Sadly, if we continue to kill hundreds of innocent people, we sure would look like monsters, too, wouldn't we? 

Sound minds can agree that Daesh need to wiped out. Eradicated. There is no place for them on this planet. There is no place for poisonous, empathy-less barbarians. Therefore, we need to make sure that our hearts do not turn engine-oil black. We need to make sure that the base of our foundation is still love and kindness--inherent human feelings. 

What if we sent gifts to Muslims? What if, instead of making pretend that all Muslims are terrorists, we actually do good deeds towards them, so that there is no way Daesh will be able to brainwash them into thinking we need to die. We could create a GoFundMe for holiday gifts for Muslim countries. Does that sound impossible? Before answering that, ask yourself if constant war is any better. We're not dealing with a nation. We're not warring a country. We're warring terroristic vigilantes, if you will. They're scattered everywhere like suicidal spies ready to strap bombs to themselves at any moment. They do this because they hate on a level that is hard for any sane person to mentally conceive. 

If we keep bombing them (and other innocent lives), then it's pretty safe to say we can expect more bombings/attacks from them around the globe. 

So why not try something else? Why not come with a different strategy? Why not kill them with kindness?

Considering what's happened so far, isn't it worth a shot?

- PatInTheHat

Waging War

Just like most issues over the last couple years, we're still talking about the minimum wage. I feel compelled to write another post on this, because I sincerely believe it is one of our most pressing issues, and an issue, which if solved correctly, could, for all intents and purposes, turn this country around.

Bold claim? Let me explain why it's not so bold.

I've already mentioned in previous wage-themed posts how the educational system is abysmal, how CEOs are paid way too much, and how Corporate America needs to pay their con-flab taxes. I've even gone as far as mentioning economical statistics (cause, ya know, mathematics is kind of a big deal when it comes to making such a drastic decision as raising the minimum wage).

What I have not talked about is how the $15 minimum wage would logically work. So I will attempt to throw some logic at you in the event math and other actual problems in this country didn't yet work.

Something that not a lot of people seem to be talking about is accountability. For example: Why aren't CEOs being held accountable for lengthening the wage gap? This is a good starting-point question, but let's go a little further and start talking about the workers who would benefit from this increase.

For those of you out there who are on the fence or adamantly against the minimum wage increase, lend me your ears (eyes) for a moment. I have seen all of those adamantly against the wage increase say things like, "These workers should be held accountable! They need to work harder!" Sure, ok, fine. That's your opinion. I think you're wrong, since I've seen people with multiple jobs trying to scrape by and it sometimes still not being enough, but that's not the point. Let's dissect, if you will, the aforementioned quote.

"The workers should be held accountable." Let's stop there.

Here's where things get interesting.

Let's say that the federal minimum wage is increased to $15/hr. Without this increase, we currently have homeless people littering the streets. We have people living out of their cars. We have people struggling to make ends meet and put food on the table for their families. I won't speak for any of you, but my general reaction to someone who is this unfortunate is something along the lines of, "Wow, it's a shame that this country is letting this happen." I am consciously holding the country accountable for the millions of homeless people. (Especially homeless people that are Vets. That is, without a doubt, a systematic error. As Bernie Sanders has proclaimed time and time again, if we have the money to send these people to war, then we better have the money to take care of them when they get home. I digress...) I'm also holding the country accountable for allowing corporations to dictate how people should or should not live. For those of you unaware, we do not live in a democracy right now--something that Bernie Sanders is fighting so damn hard to win back--we currently live in an oligarchy. The reason for that is because the wealthy are so much wealthier than the poor that the poor hardly get a say in anything. If we continue to allow, as a country, corporations to have a low effective tax rate, CEOs to have higher and higher pay days, etc. then we are doomed.

If we decide that a $15/hr minimum wage is acceptable, then guess where all the accountability goes? It goes to the workers. That means it's exceedingly harder to feel bad for someone who is homeless. If you're someone who wants the workers to be accountable for their position--like actually accountable--then give them the tools to be held accountable. Yes, the skeptical part of me knows that there are people who gamble their lives away. Those people, dare I say, sorta deserve to be homeless if they get themselves in that position. Their lack of self control drove them into poverty.

Without realizing it, if the minimum wage is increased to $15/hr, we indirectly make every worker accountable. By providing them the necessary means to live, only they can screw it up.

Currently, the wage gap is so ridiculous that the wealthy are literally screwing up people's lives without really realizing it. I know some have realized this, and most just kinda shrugged their shoulders and said, "Tough shit. But hey, don't make me pay my employees more money, because that would make my life 'difficult.'" One Seattle CEO, however, did the exact opposite. Deducted his pay and, at minimum, pays all of his employees $70,000 per year. Which by the way, is a lot more than $15/hr. He actually cared about his employees happiness so much, that he researched that $70 to $75K wage is when people are the happiest in their lives. Talk about someone that makes sense. Hard work plus empathy equals success. Now, is this the perfect solution? No. It borders on communistic. If every company everywhere did the exact same thing, then it could cause more problems than solutions. That said, it's a great starting point. What the CEO did allows us to figure out how and why it works statistically/mathematically. His business is one of the first of its kind, so there's a lot to learn from it.*

To conclude, if you're against the raising of the minimum wage, but want workers to be held accountable for a life that is cornered between student debt and jobs without a living wage, then, I'm sorry, you just don't make any sense. If you want workers held accountable, give them a wage that holds them accountable.

A living one.

- PatInTheHat

* The company, if you're interested, is called Gravity Payments, and the CEO's name is Dan Price

Ho, ho, NO - Grumpy Pat Edition Pt. 2

Oh. Oh, good. It's the middle of November. It's a mere couple weeks until Thanksgiving, and take a guess what I'm hearing on the radio already?

That's right. You guessed it. Christmas. Music.

Any time this happens way earlier than it should--which, by the way, is every single damn year--the end of the song "Fix You" comes to mind. The "tears stream down your face" part. People in cars next to mine in the worst traffic outside of Honolulu peer through my window to see me hysterically crying. They're probably thinking, "Awh, poor guy. Must have been a bad break-up." Ha! Jokes on you, assholes! I'm crying because of Christmas music!

Now, you're probably thinking: But, Pat, can't you at least use your CD player? But. Pat, ever hear of MP3 jacks? Yeah, let me put a CD in a tape deck and see how that turns out. Yeah, let me plug straight into the cigarette lighter. I drive a '98 Jeep Cherokee. The vehicle is so old it produces its own oil, so it certainly doesn't have any of those devices.

Something else tickled me pink this season, too.. This year a large part of America has a problem with is a cup made by a nationally known cafe--Starbucks. For those that don't have that problem, have a problem WITH THE PEOPLE who have a problem with the cup. It's like an endless cycle of Christmas cheer. The kind of Christmas cheer you see in Grumpy Old Men with Walter Mathau and Jack Lemon. It's a shame that neither of those men got so see the day when people cared about cups so strongly. But don't you worry your little heart! In their place arrives 6'2" sixty-nine year old Donald Trump. The grumpiest of all the men in the world. A mature presidential candidate would probably make a point to say that the criticism against.

Maturity. Is for. The birds.

Donald Trump, the perfect mix of a whiny Bichon Frise and chloroform, made sure to tell everyone to boycott Starbucks, because there wasn't enough pretty pictures on Starbucks cups. Christmas symbols: Snowflakes, trees, and the like, were ixnayed from Starbucks' holiday cups.

Those. Bastards.

If only snowflakes, trees, and other such things had anything to do with the Christian faith, these gripes might make any bit of sense. Unfortunately, most symbols of Christmas are either simply symbols of winter (the snowflakes) or pagan symbols (the tree).

Christmas is the time of year that reminds me that there is no other country in the world I would rather live in than this bass-ackwards one.

It also reminds me, at least for this year, to care less about gifts and more about my new years resolution:

Make sure Trump doesn't become president.

Yeah, that would be a great Christmas present for everyone next year, dontcha think?

- PatInTheHat

Legs of Stone

Do you exercise?

At the very least, do you participate in activities that promote cardiovascular health i.e. running, swimming, biking, etc?

It's OK if you don't, and I'm certainly not going to tell you to; however, I will highly recommend it! And don't worry, this post has nothing to do with trying to make you physically healthier.

For me, I started running when I was about 10/11 years old. It wasn't until after college that I really started running less. I got things back into gear when I trained for and competed in the Broad Street Run last May, and now I find myself training for the same race for this coming May.

Last night was my first real run in months, and, holy hell, did it feel amazing. No, not physically, but mentally.

If there was any reason I'd recommend running--or any other cardio activity for that matter--to anyone it would be because of the positive mental impact.

I always knew endorphins run rampant while running--making us feel happier in the moment--but more than that: If you have any pent up aggression, aggression that, off the top of your head you don't think you have, try going for a run.

Last night I started a two-mile run to get back into the swing of things, and out of nowhere I started feeling super pissed about something that happened earlier this year. I didn't even think I cared anymore until running brought it back out of me. It was probably one of the best, most useful two miles I've ever ran. Once the run was over, I cooled off, got some water, and felt amazing.

If you're generally a happy person (even if you're not, release those endorphins!) who doesn't exercise too much, but lately you've felt in a bit of a rut, try a cardio activity! Biking or running would probably work best since they'll help you release aggressive thoughts without having to fear drowning...lulz.

 - PatInTheHat

Red Solo Cup

No.

Please.

Please do not make me write about this--for the love of all that is good in this world.

Please do not make me write about the red Starbucks cups that are causing some sort of upheaval among certain, really stupid Christians.

I can't. I can't do this. Hell, I might not even be able to "even." I might start odding all over the place.

1, 3, 5, 7...shit, there it goes!

*Takes deep breath*

There are better things to talk about. Better, more important things to emote from. Better subjects to talk about other than people getting upset that they don't see snowflakes on a Starbucks cup and thinking that snowflakes are a symbol of Christmas.

THERE ARE BETTER THINGS TO TALK ABOUT!

Yup, I'm good. I'm fine. None of this is a problem. Stupid people will die out. Darwin hasn't failed us yet.

Alright.

OK.

Glad that's settled.

- PatInTheHat

Call Home, Monster

It isn't the nightmares
It isn't speeding cars on a highway
It isn't the dark
It isn't Muslims
It isn't a broken heart
It isn't Christians
It isn't the last breath
It isn't the apex of a tall building
It isn't the curmudgeon at school
It isn't Corporate America
It isn't the dripping faucet
It isn't the unappealing sound from the vent
It isn't six feet under water
It isn't the cold
It isn't your inability to swim
It isn't race
It isn't women
It isn't time
It isn't pollution itself
It isn't the rich
It isn't the downtrodden
It isn't the police
It isn't war
It isn't a world leader
It isn't a failing economy
It isn't free falling from miles up
It isn't a house
It isn't an animal
It isn't the past
It isn't the future, certainly
It isn't the fake super model
It isn't the crazy pundit
It isn't the hipster
It isn't the stripper
It isn't the lawyer
It isn't the reindeer in the park
It isn't guns
It isn't technology
It isn't ailment

It isn't any of those things
Because the truth is

It's always been you

- PatInTheHat

No (Grumpy Pat Ed.)

Sorry, nope.

Absolutely not.

There's literally nothing you can do or say to stop me.

Spontaneous combustion? Instantaneous death? Cancer?

Bring it on!

I don't care if the information is coming from the World Health Organization or the Three Little Pigs: I'm. Eating. Bacon.

In case you guys haven't noticed: This world blows. There are only so few things we have on this ridiculous place that we can actually enjoy, and bacon is one of things that I can't. I won't. I would never let anyone take away from me.

Nope. Mmm  mm (shakes head). No.

As much as I love bacon, my reason for choosing to not follow the news that bacon is a cancer hazard similar to smoking tobacco does not come from just my subjective love for bacon consumption. There is also some logic behind this thirst for pork bellies.

1. (And this is obviously more subjective, but still relevant) Bacon makes me happier than you. I don't know who or what you are or where you're from, but bacon does something that you, whoever you are, just can't do--make me happy in seconds. (Yes, I'm absolutely being facetious, but all kidding aside, bacon makes me happy. Shut up, don't judge me!)

2. First off (and to get more serious), everything should be eaten in moderation. From certain fruits, plants, meats, candies, etc. Every single thing should be eaten in moderation. Secondly, there's something inherently incorrect about saying that the hazard of getting cancer from processed meat is on the same or similar level of smoking tobacco. I'm kinda surprised doctors aren't writing articles in rebuttal to these "findings," but for one: There is something that is very different between our pulmonary cells (lung cells) and almost every other cell in our body (with the exception of brain and nerve cells) and that is they don't grow back. Our lung cells are in a constant state of the cellular reproduction cycle called "G-zero," where no matter how damaged or torn our lungs get, they can't repair/reproduce new, healthy cells. This is NOT true for every other part of our body minus the ones that I've mentioned. Since pulmonary cells can't repair, they are more likely to mutate into cancerous cells than any other section of our bodies minus those other areas that I mentioned: the brain and nerves. So, to say that bacon or any other processed meats are on the same level as smoking tobacco is, in my opinion (although an educated one), completely bogus, and sounds like some strange scare tactic to get us to buy, what, more veggies from farmers? I have no idea.

3. I'm quite sick of vegetarians tooting their whistle every time something like this comes out about meat. "See! Everyone should be eating veggies! You guys are dumbasses! Die meat eaters!" First off, uhhh, we're all omnivores. You learned this word in grade school science class. It means that we, us humans, can eat veggies and meat. Part of that class told us why we SHOULDN'T treat veggies as a prime source of nutrients, and it's because our body is incapable of converting many veggies into caloric energy and/or proper proteins to rebuild our muscles. Moreover, vegetarians don't even live that much longer than everyone who eats a normal diet. In fact, by the time we're 80, the statistical probability of having or getting heart disease (since that's the one disease that is talked about even more often than cancer) is negligible.* Average expected life is approximately 77 years as is. By that time, life is basically over anyway. I don't care if you think your veggies will let you live, in the grand scheme of things, like 5 minutes longer than me. I really don't care. I've been running for 14 years of my life. Should I shove it down your throat that you're a lazy piece of shit that never works out, and that I'll definitely live longer than you, because I exercise? No. No, I won't. Because I'm not a major douche-fuck. An asshole sometimes? Yes. But not a major douche-fuck. Glad that's cleared up.

I posted a similar article about sleep not long ago. In it I talked about how life expectancy decreases with bad sleep habits. This is true, but, again, the question is: Did it make you happier to not sleep? Did you go out to have and make good times happen? Similarly, does it make you happier to have meat in your life? If the answer to these questions are "yes," then you're doing exactly what you should be doing with your life. The same goes for you vegetarians. If it makes you happy to be a veggie, then good! And don't tell me you're trying to save everyone's lives by being that "I told you so" asshole when articles like this come out. You just want to be right. Don't be that Jehovah's Witness asshole that knocks on everyone's social media to shove your vegetarian propaganda down everyone's throat.

Deal?

Deal.

We all die in the end. Other than suicide and those who are murdered by psychopaths, who cares how our demise happens?

Bacon?

Bacon.

- PatInTheHat



*http://www.lifeextension.com/magazine/2006/1/awsi/Page-01

Om Du Vill

Om du vill

I could turn around and walk away
And make pretend this never existed

Om du vill

I could reach into the abyss
Into the cold darkness that flooded your heart
It would suffocate me
But if I could give you warmth
I would do it

Om du vill

I could climb to the highest tower
To the analogy I feel when I'm with you
It would frighten me
But if my presence keeps you high
I would do it

Om du vill

I could flick the switch on Winter
Switch the frigidity to fervor
It would tire me
But if it saves you from yourself
I would do it

Om du vill

I could turn around and walk away
And make pretend this never existed
It would kill me
It will
...

Om du vill

I could take one last breath
One last exhale into the opposing winds
It could start us all over again
We could be reborn
And I would do it
I would do it
I would do it
Kommer du?
Om du vill

Paint Me A Picture

Mental illness.

We all know someone who suffers from some type of mental illness. It's no easy task helping a friend with it. It's hard. It's hard for them. It's hard for us. It takes indomitable patience from both sides; it takes indomitable perseverance.

One of the more common misdiagnosed and many times undiagnosed mental ailments is depression. It's not undiagnosed because the psychiatrist isn't sure, but rather that the patient never goes to see the psychiatrist in the first place. The patient is in such a high state of self-conflict that he/she doesn't want anyone to know the issue even exists.

Sometimes depression is temporary. Temporary because of heart break. Temporary because someone in our families died. Temporary because of a cold, dark, seemingly endless winter. Temporary because of a struggling life: bad grades, bad work performance, not accomplishing the sports achievements we feel should be within our reach, etc.

Over the course of my life, I have felt this type of depression (I'm sure many, if not all of you have, too). For me, and something I've written about in previous posts in either story form or in my numerous and lengthy rants, depression feels not only like sadness, but also like there is a giant weight on my chest. An immovable force when I wake up in the morning. Or that my lungs feel like they're filled with inexpellable water. This same type of feeling has been described to me by others who have also suffered or suffer from depression. Another experience I've been able to relate is being "scatter-brained." For me, this happens when the chemical balance in my head is still too volatile. I'm unable to be creative; I'm unable to say what I feel; I'm unable--almost incapable--of venting. This happens, again for me, because the emotional toll would be seemingly far too enormous to handle. If you guys want to know why I keep things close to my chest, and why I sort of disappear from time to time, this is why.

Those with worse symptoms than I've described, i.e. self-infliction, suicidal tendencies, etc.generally exhibit the scatter-brained/always wanting to be  alone symptoms as well--this part not from experience, but from psych journals everywhere.

All of that aside, (and forgive me for coming across as Jr. psychologist for a moment) it is well documented that some of our favorite artists were pretty depressed. One that I'd like to focus on specifically is Vincent Van Gogh. Now, his ending didn't turn out too well, as his depression ended up getting the best of him, but he painted beautiful and colorful pictures to perhaps quell his suicidal tendencies. Even when no one cared about his paintings, he likely created many of the paintings for himself. He painted himself colorful pictures so that in the sea of grey that he saw each day that he woke up, he could see the color in his paint and in his paintings.

One of the things that HAVE helped me from time to time, when I was finally able to talk about anything and write some things, is being as vivid as possible. I can't draw or paint worth a damn. I've mentioned before that music helps me see color, so that's always a plus, but sometimes music feels grey, too.

Point: To our friends who we're concerned about in their depressive state whether temporary or permanent chemical imbalances, it might be advantageous of us to ask them to paint us a picture. If they can't paint or draw like me, then maybe ask them to write you a colorful story. It will be a challenge for them, no doubt, but I think the act of asking them could be motivation for them to put their mind on things that might make them happy. It could also lead them to painting or writing about sad/morbid topics, but this, too, might help them cope with the pain their feeling. Perhaps it can help them out of their scatter-brained state. It might even get them to come out with friends more often.

A lot of situations in life are about taking the very first step. A lot of times, the first step is the hardest to take, but once one foot goes in front of the other, the other tends to follow. Objects in motion stay in motion unless otherwise opposed. It's one of Newton's laws of physics, but I think it can definitely apply to all of us. We'd like to be the motor and the key that turns some of our tendencies on and off, but there are times when someone else is better off having that key--helping us turn the motor over.

Everyone always talks about the little things making big impacts. So, let's try to focus on that when it comes to our friends, and see if we can help them get out of their rut. Even if it's not just a rut--something they need to take medication for--the effort that you show them to help them feel better speaks volumes. Since it seems like many of us are doing our best to combat mental illness with mental health awareness campaigns, let's do our part by doing all of the little things that our friends may need to get by.

If any one of you out there needs someone to talk to, I'm always available. And hey, if there's nothing you want to talk about, then paint me a picture =)

- PatInTheHat

The Dark Side

Welp, you did it.

That's right, you. The ones who watched a trailer about aliens in space and created a see-through facade of racial bias.

Quick question: Do you wake up in the morning and inherently hate yourself? Do you hate yourself so much that you think you need to outwardly hate others for no reason with the idea that you can expel your inward hatred this way? Are you dumb? Are you ignorant?

You don't have to answer these questions--I already know the answer.

Do you like Jedis? I don't think you like Jedis. There is basically no way you like Jedis or understand anything about Star Wars if you're bashing a person of a certain race for playing a main character. Do you watch Star Wars to be A PART of the Dark Side? Do you think the Dark Side is the good guys? Do you think they're the ones that prevail? Well, newsflash, they never win. They can't win. They won't win. And neither will you. The common good always defeats the common degraders. If you watched any of the previous Star Wars movies, you would know this. 

Do you ever ask yourself why? Why you're full of shit? Why you're so dependent on spewing vile venom that is ignorant racism to get off?

Do you ever ask yourself what your purpose is? Have you wondered why you were brought up with the love of your family only to throw all of that away to hate? Do you think the Bible wants you to hate? Do you REALLY think the Bible wants you to hate? The Torah? The Quran?

My guess is you're a "religious person." My guess is you're lost in the malicious discontent of the Old Testament, where your "Father" enjoys the tidings of complete and total genocide. Is this where your hate comes from? Should we all just get wiped out and leave you here to rule a world of 1? A human race that cannot be started with one, but at least two and preferably many?

Do you know what humility is? Is "narcissism" and/or "narcissistic" words you have heard of? It's routed in the agenda of the self. Caring about "number 1" way more and way more often than anyone else around you.

Does this racism make you feel in control? Do you feel like in order to make yourself feel better, you ,and people of the same color of your skin, need to believe you are far superior than anyone who has different skin color? Does that actually make sense to you? Is that ridicule for simply being born in a specific region or by ancestors born in a specific region the route of love? If your answer is yes: Are you serious? Did you think about that long enough? I already know the answer to that, too.

Maybe we should banish you. What do you think? How about we all do our very best to banish you for no reason. Well, actually, there is a reason: You're a racist asshole who has no place in this world, let alone this country.

The 1960's are far away. They feel far away because I can only comprehend 3 years after I was born (the early 90's) and after. The 1960's are far away, but days like today the 1960's feel very close. Bigotry, ignorance, and a certain clout from a group of people who should have little to no authority over anything.

Boycotting a movie for having a lead character with skin color other than your own.

Hmm.

In order to break the cycle of hatred, I will say this: I don't hate you--I feel sorry for you.

You're a rodent. A vermin. A leech. I hope you get fixed. In more ways than one.

Sometimes the best way to pacify a crying child is by ignoring it. I think it's time you receive the same treatment from now until the rest of eternity.

Here's to hoping.

- PatInTheHat

Are We Going To Do This Every Year?

Hey, look,  it's that day of the year where everyone lambastes that guy who is the supposed founder of North America in 1492.

What. In the actual. Fuck.

Look, I get it. More historical documents turned up over the last few years that might make this guy seem like a total douche, but let me give you one swift fucking reminder why you're part of this country to begin with: Douches came over seas. They douched everything up. And then America was born. And, hey, guess what? Surprise! IT'S FILLED WITH DOUCHES!

I mean, come on, think about it. It's a tale as old as time. People from one country who want more space to roam free go to another country filled with people they deem to be lesser, and then they war people in the area of land they wanted, a country or a continent, won that war and continued on to do the same thing over and over again (until someone else beat them; see: Roman Empire). Does it suck that empires and countries are created in violence? Yes, it does, but that's history for you. It's up to us to make sure history doesn't repeat itself with same kind of douchebaggery that got us here, but it should be noted that the douchebaggery that DID get us here...well...it fucking got us here. So, we commemorate their existence, because without them, then potentially no U.S. (see what I did there?)

What's really funny about all of the Columbus shaming I see on social media is that the same people who denounce Christianity, and people who believe in religion in general, are the same people who are opposing Columbus. It's like, alright, fair, I agree with you that Columbus was a douche, and you don't like celebrating a douche, but Christ, whether he was the son of God or not, was a really good guy. Yes, I know you don't like the PEOPLE who follow Christianity, but that's not what I'm talking about! I see a lot of you out there that bash him simply because you don't think he was the son of God. Alright, fine, should we take away Christmas?! THANKSGIVING?! Are you trying to take all of your free off-days from work off of the calendar entirely? Do you hate your family that much that when you get an off day for a nationally recognized holiday you have to find reasons to hate the off time you have only to later post articles about how Europe gets 2 months vacation and "Why don't we?!?!?!?!" Do. You. SEE?! I'm beginning to think Bi-polar isn't a disorder anymore. It's the norm.

Everyone loves focusing on all of the awful things that have happened and are happening, and trust me I can definitely be as cynical as they come, but as of late I'm starting to get real sick and tired of everyone constantly looking at every single negative aspect without AT LEAST inspecting the good that has come from these historical (or otherwise) events you want to criticize so harshly.

Please, for the love of Allah, just stop. I'm sure some of you out there are like, "And that's why we should focus on Lief Erickson Day, because theoretically he found North America first." Seriously? Do I have to explain to you that he was a Viking? You do know what Vikings were known for, right? Raping and pillaging. The same shit you're pissed off at JUST Christopher Columbus for, as if he douchebagged all by himself.

For everyone advocating for Native American rights and/or honoring them for enduring 500+ years of tyranny, monarchy, and then democracy that's fine. And those who are saying "They're the real discoverers of this continent!" That's all fine and dandy, too. Unfortunately, though, they're not what make up the vast majority of this country. Even their children's children's children make up a very very small minority. They were clearly dealt the shit end of the stick. They were peaceful people who didn't want to kill anyone. They were killed by those douchebags I mentioned, and fortunately there are still some left. The unfortunate part is that historically (still) the people, who conquered other people to retain land, are the people who are remembered.

If you start deconstructing every single historical event, I'm 100% sure you'll find information that will shock and appall you. But like I said, there's no doubt that parts of history absolutely sucked. It's up to us to make sure that awful shit like raping, pillaging, and genociding never becomes a standard ever again.

So can we stop with this Columbus shit every year? Please? It's exhausting. He was around hundreds of years ago and he's dead.

Especially you Christ/Religion-Columbus haters. You're the worst of them all! At least make some fucking sense.

What's the opposite of thank you?

- PatInTheHat

Sleep?

When I wake up after only 4 hours of sleep, I generally feel like I've been drugged, dragged into the trunk of a car, and tossed around.

Lab tests have concluded that a continuous cycle of poor sleep over a long stretch of time can create a slew of problems later in life. Namely: An increase in the chances of brain cancer, Alzheimer's, and even Schizophrenia just to name a few. The idea of getting any of these ailments sounds awful. They are definitely things we should be thinking about when we're losing a lot of sleep to help us get back on track.

On the other hand, there are a few things medical journals don't talk about. To remain statistical for just a moment, let's talk about our recommended sleep. We're recommended to get between 8 to 9 hours of sleep each night. As we get older, i.e. after 25--the age our brain, and the rest of us, is fully developed-- we can handle something like 7 hours of sleep each night without issue. If we use 8 hours of sleep as an average amount of sleep we all receive throughout our lives, then that means by the time we're 80 years old--if we get there-- we'll have slept a grand total of 27 years. (Math check: 8 hours is a third of a day. Divide 80 by 3. I rounded up.) That's a pretty large amount of life we miss. Now, theoretically, if we don't sleep the right amount of hours then we won't "live" that long due to the aforementioned ailments, but the way I see it is that if we make it to 80 and sleep 8 hours/day, then we miss 27 years of "living." If the majority of our lives we receive nearer 6 hours of sleep per night, then we pick up a good 7 years of "living" according to my suggested definition of what living really is--being awake and doing things.

I am not advocating that everyone starts sleep depriving themselves, but just try not to regret not getting the right amount of sleep for work the next day or something every so often. There's a reason we missed sleep, and I bet all those times that you did miss sleep you had a pretty damn good reason for missing it (hopefully those instances aren't totally made up of school-related all-nighters). Whether a concert, a date, a late-night sporting event, etc. all of these things gave us moments we'll never forget no matter how sleep deprived we might have become because of them. Whether those times are worth it are for you to decide, but for me, they're always worth it. Even if something doesn't necessarily go great, I enjoy experiencing these new things all the same.

A lot of people treat sleep like a 100 dollar bill. When we were kids, we never really wanted to sleep, but as we got older we realized that sleep is definitely a bit more precious. When I was a kid sleep was a 5 dollar bill. Today, it's like a 5 dollar bill and some change...mostly pennies. At some point this vantage point will catch up with me. Age will rear its ugly head, and I'll have no choice but to adapt to the legitimate struggles of adulthood where a cup of coffee in the morning hardly does a damn thing to keep me awake after an all-nighter. See, the thing is, I know it's coming whether I get more sleep or not, so it helps me enjoy things more. I'm not stressed about being tired for work in the morning, because I know that currently I'm perfectly fine. When I'm not fine anymore, I'll acclimate. You're also perfectly fine. So go enjoy it.

Everyone talks about "making" time for things. Yes, I agree that work should always be a high priority even if you're living within the shackled confines of that thing you hate called Corporate America; however, work should never be our highest priority. People who have their job as their highest priority I think vastly misunderstand the point of this life. Life is about doing things that make us as happy as possible. Some could argue that work IS that for them, and ok, fine. I would call you an exception to the rule. Perhaps you're someone who enjoys what you do so much that you could marry your work. Seriously--and I do mean this seriously--good for you! You have found that one cheat code in life that is hard for many of us to find: An excellent work experience/passion.

All I know is: If I actually abided by the 8 hours of sleep rule, there are a slew of opportunities I would have missed over the course of my life. It genuinely scares me to think what life what be like right now if I cared more about sleep than living the way that I feel is necessary to stay/be happy.

Think about it, are you happier because you get more sleep in actuality? Or do you use sleep--more than just to sleep--to conform to the norms that our society wants us to go through in order to exhibit the productivity they want us to have?



-PatInTheHat

Feel the Bern Yet?

In a miraculous turn  of events, politics--albeit in one instance in particular--is starting to make some semblance of sense. For years politicians of all kinds would spew the most profoundly intoxicating bullshit that our country's zombie population would actually follow. Yes, I realize I'm making it sound like that's not still happening--and it is *cough* Donald Trump *cough*--but unlike in previous presidential elections, someone from the dregs of the political world--an independent--has risen from the proverbial ashes like a majestic Griffin breaking from the shackles of The-one-who-shall-not-be-named's cruel wizardly control.

In comes 74-years-young leftist Independent Senator from Vermont, Bernie Sanders, who has started taking the country by storm. Here's a guy who, back in the 60's, was way ahead of his time. He was fighting alongside the likes of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. to promote desegregation in an effort to quell and potentially fully eradicate racism countrywide. Fifty years later, and the guy is the same guy--meaning it's pretty clear he's fighting for progression and not just some leftist agenda--trying to make sure all of that stuff he fought for years and years ago actually happens. And, get this, he fights for marriage equality, a warless world, tuition free public colleges, women's rights, and all other minority and middle class endeavors for the sole purpose of making this great country greater. He comes in with the passion of a twenty-something who has been looking around and wondering, "Where are all the things we were promised when we were kids?" Except, get this, he's in his 70s! He literally doesn't have anything to worry about. This guy--putting his age in perspective for just a hot second--is two years away from that average male life expectancy of 76, and he's going for this presidential race like Professor Farnsworth from "Futurama" with the attitude that "I don't want to live on this planet anymore," UNLESS I do something about it first. I mean, holy hell! No one has even brought this point up in the media! Even his supporters don't realize the amount of physical exertion it takes to fly all over the place, give speeches, shake hands, take questions, etc. at 20 years old let alone 74. Yet he's doing it without a single, solitary complaint.

Forgive me if it sounds like I'm gushing a bit, but think about this: The guy is basically trying to eliminate all that is bullshit. Yes, you can disagree with him about abortion, and other similar issues, but the guy is trying to get across the message that we should do to others what we would want them to do to us. It's a religious teaching, but it's what I believe to be a fundamental, compassionate, and empathetic moral guide that most of us either take for granted or forget about entirely.

People: That's not an agenda. That's being a human being.

Aside from that, he also understands that this country is inching closer and closer--if it's not already--to an oligarchy, which is the idea that a government is really owned or influenced by the wealthiest in the country, as opposed to a Democracy--that thing we all want to keep, I'd hope--where we all have equal say and vote, etc. on important issues.

I'll admit, it's hard to put a lot of hype into a presidential candidate a year away from elections, but I don't think this guy should be taken lightly. He's not a joke. Forget politician. As a person, he's the real deal. He's the kind of leader this country actually needs. A compassionate, logical, and mostly agenda-less human being. I love hearing the conflict in his voice when he talks about certain things that he supports but is on the fence on. That's...I mean, comon, that's as human as it gets.

I'm sick of hearing politicians sound like robots. We. *Beep* must control *Beep Beep* the popular vote *Beep*. Just stop.

This morning--Monday September 14th, 2015--Bernie Sanders walked into one of the most highly religious and conservative colleges in the country, aside from maybe Catholic U., and had a phenomenal speech about trying to find common ground among all people. We're the United States of America, but sometimes it feels like we're the DemoRepublic States of America. It sometimes feels like we're in a benign Civil War against ourselves, and the only time we rally together and go "America!" is when we defeat terrorism or something of the sort. Bravo to Senator Sanders for having the gall to waltz into a war zone, yet come out smelling like daisies. He received applause on a lot of different instances, some of which were issues he didn't expect to hear any applause on such as abortion and women's rights.

I'm just sincerely proud of the guy. I'm proud to know that there are still human beings out there in the world. Moreover, I'm proud that there are human beings in the world who have the courage to run for president.  I'm not a fan of The Walking Dead--please don't hate me--and I don't think anything like a zombie apocalypse will ever happen--I'm making that whole "don't hate me" thing hard, aren't I?--but I'll admit that there have been moments in the last couple years where I thought we were already in one! There were few humans left, I swear! Hell, that could still be the case, but I'm really happy to know that Bernie Sanders is not a brain-begging cold body trying to ruin everything.

Please, for the love of all that is good, start paying attention to this guy! Yes, he may be doing well in the polls right now, but I have a feeling he will really need our help in the primaries and (hopefully) the national elections in a year in order to secure a spot as the leader of our country. For me, there really isn't a lot about him that is negative. I mean, yeah, I'm a little afraid of his take on Israel. I'm a little afraid of his take on pulling a large majority of troops out of the middle East (right now) with ISIS running around. But there are so many domestic common sensical ideas that he has brought forth that I don't think we can afford to ignore.

If you guys want to see this country progress--really progress--then please give Bernie your support.

If you're a brainless zombie who wants the world to end, then by all means, vote for Donald Trump. I'll have my shotguns and chainsaws ready to go for just the occasion.

Oh, and if you're on the fence about everything I mentioned, then Hillary is a good second option. *Tips cap*

- PatInTheHat

The Spider and The Fly

Music is a potent drug. It's all about how you use it and who you use it with.

Music is great for listening, but it's really easy to lose some of musics' significance without sharing it with someone.

I'm probably about to contradict myself from a previous post, but the truth is: The music you listen to IS you. I learned this the hard way--and then experienced the easy way.  Life is all about perspective after all, isn't it? So, how do we find this untapped, seemingly unable to be found perspective? It sounds like a hard question, but the answer is actually quite simple: You let it be found. Perspective can come from other people, but in actuality you have to allow that perspective to be seen/heard/experienced. Otherwise, it could be right in front of you the whole time, but if you don't grant a new perspective access into your consciousness, then it'll never mean anything.

First, it's all about taking the right Chances. Truth be told, there was a Tear in my Heart, and for the longest time I thought it was going to be All that I've Got. I was Waiting for the End to come, but at some point I Vindicated myself and realized I can't fight this Feeling of the Mercy I deserved to give myself. Sometimes you just have to Shut up and Dance through the Butterflies AND Hurricanes. Stop Chasing Cars that only plan to hit you, and start realizing that the Same Love that got you here is the same love that will get you out. Somewhere only we Know lies a land of So much Love. Don't know where that is, yet? No problem. Because if there's one thing that's for sure: Love alone is worth the Fight.

Good luck.

- PatInTheHat

Her Perfume

The morning of December 6th, 2013 was especially terrible. Woke up. Felt nauseous. Ate breakfast anyway. Threw up. Drove to work anyway.

Thankfully, work wasn't all that terrible. And it was a Friday. As bad as the last few days have been, sometimes a good weekend could cure all of that.

It's a tale as old as time: Guy meets girl. Guy or girl swoons the other. They fall in love. Tough times happen. One or the other can't handle it. One or the other leaves. One or the other feels the wrath of love's ugly side--despair. Repeat.

Sometimes the best way to proceed through life is with the idea in mind that: "Life sucks, and then you die." Sometimes life sucks more than usual. Sometimes we find people, or we find activities in our lives, that make life suck a little less. With Renee, life didn't suck at all.

Though it's hard to conceptualize heartbreak for anyone, for me it looked like 5'7" dark brown hair, blue-eyed Renee Winter. It's been about 3 months since she cut ties with what she once deemed "our everlasting bond," but each morning I woke up it still felt like a rhino was sitting on my chest. Sometimes I legitimately wondered if I was having a heart attack, but no, it was just Jake. Jake is what I call the rhino. Sometimes Jake found someone else to sit on in the morning, but over the previous three months he had grown quite fond of my chest. At 6-feet, 145lbs, I'm not quite sure why he found it so damn comfortable to sit on me.

Big boss-man took the day off, so leaving work a little early wasn't an issue. The road roared on the way home. Everyone tries to leave a little early on Fridays, and with school in session there were a lot of kids getting picked up at around the 4 o'clock hour. My favorite radio station played my favorite songs, but sometimes those songs made me think too much. I slammed my steering wheel with my right hand, and then shook off the urge to keep thinking all of those "what-ifs." I took one giant deep breath and kept driving. Sometimes long drives to and from work, which mine was the hour-plus variety, are good and bad. They're really good when things are going well, and really awful when things are going awful. The saving grace of long drives while I'm feeling upset is that I'm alone. No one in those moments, who I care about, has to see the debacle that is my sadness.

My friends wanted to head down to a bar in downtown Buffalo called Hot Mama's Canteen. Winter--the season--if you're not familiar with Buffalo during the long, dark months that prelude and subsequent the Winter Solstice, then I can tell you: Is. Fuck. Cold. And with the moisture coming off of lake Erie its probably not hard to imagine how awful the snow gets, too. In case it is, think feet. Ever since Ms. Winter threw me into the cold dark cavern of depression, my friends--DJ, Todd, and Reese--did their best to give me fun nights out.

It was historically dry that year. Cold. Dreadfully frigid like every year, but without the snow the beginning of winter was tolerable. When you're from Buffalo, it's important to make it abundantly clear that you can handle the cold. If you can't handle the cold, it might be hard to find friends in Buffalo, because other than the summer months, Buffalo loves being colder than what any normal person is used to. So how do you prove you can handle the cold? Walk places.

Hot Mama's Canteen was walking distance from all of us so everyone met at my place, and we went from there.

"Can't wait to see girls in jackets! I like a girl in a jacket," DJ proclaimed.
"Well, that's not exactly narrowing it down, Deej. It's late fall," teased Reese. "Plus, this isn't about you, this is about our fragile little Colin. Awh, just look at hiiiiim."
"Yo, really, Reese?" Todd chimes in annoyed. "Wouldn't want to bring up your mopey self after what happened with Janine. And we even warned you that things didn't seem right with her!"
"Alright, ladies, that's enough," I say. Sometimes their bickering is exhausting. "I'm not dealing with your shit tonight."

Everyone remained silent for the rest of the walk. As we passed the hipster-themed bar that looks a lot more like a coffee house--Hydrolic Hearth--I stopped in my tracks.

"Whaaaat just happened?" DJ confusedly inquires.
"Do you smell that?!? I know that smell!"

I sprinted to the front doors of the Hearth. Easy to see everywhere inside the place because of the numerous glass windows, I looked for Renee. She had to be in here. I knew that smell better than anything. At this point, the guys were behind me unsure of what they were looking for.

"Ugh, is this about Renee?" Todd says in disgust.
"Dude, shut up. Do you see her or not?"
"No." Todd responds without even looking through the window.
"Oh, thanks." I retort apathetically. "I'm going in."

Just before I took my first step inside, a rush of memories flooded my mind as though my brain turned into a View Master. The perfume, its creator. Click, memory. Click, memory. Click, memory. With each memory carried an emotion. With each emotion, a smile, a laugh, a cry, a kiss, anger, resentment, the woods, the park, the lake, the pizza shop, the wedding. Click, memory. Click, memory. Click, memory. I didn't know it, but my eyes were closed, and all of the sudden my head felt light. Under my coat, sweat beaded across my body, but not because I was warm.

I hear Dashboard Confessional's song "Vindicated," but I don't remember being near a radio.

Flat on my back outside of the Hearth, I woke up to numerous people surrounding me.

"Colin's back!" someone shouted. I forget where I was for a moment, but the cold helped my senses catch the right gear. I started to form questions.

"What happened?" As I asked, I sat up really quickly looking around, and I started to recognize faces. I saw DJ. Saw Reese. Saw other people who must of come out of the Hearth to wonder if I died. Saw...Winter.

"Where's Todd?" I asked with a sense of frustrated purpose. I heard Todd laugh right behind my ear. At this point he was holding me up behind me so I didn't go face first back onto the cold concrete.

"Dude, you totally faded. What happened?" Todd inquired.
"Sonova fuck, don't worry about it. Can we get that drink?" I couldn't believe it. The smell of the perfume flooded me with so many memories that I must have passed out. I had never passed out before by that point, but at least I got to hear good music on the way down. The good news was that I felt a sense of apathy. When I came to I had noticed that the smell did indeed come from Renee. She had a blank, semi-concerned look on her face when I looked in her direction, but she quickly hid her face and tried to reel her friends back inside.

There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to tell her that she was beautiful. I wanted to tell her how much I still cared about her despite the heart-wrenching pain she put me through. I wanted to talk to her about that time we sat by the lake over the summer, and how I loved the way the sun ricocheted off the water and hit her face--her skin shimmering with the slight undulation of the water as if for a brief moment they were intertwined. I wanted to say so many things.

When I finally got up, Todd and DJ each took an arm of mine to make sure I wasn't going to timber for a second time. Everyone who came out of the Hearth to create a kind of semi-circle seen at funerals asked if I was OK before going back inside. I was fine. My friends all had a decent idea of what happened, so they all tried to keep me from looking into the Hydrolic Hearth as we meandered onward towards Hot Mama's.

"Wow," DJ half-whispers under his breath, "Her scent is your Kryptonite."
Todd and Reese quickly shot looks at DJ to non-verbally signal, "Really? Right now?"

With subtlety, I start laughing. Then my laughter became increasingly more audible. At some point I was hunched over with my hands on my knees belting laughter. No one else knew what was going on.

"Her scent is my Kryptonite!" I proclaimed. And that's when I realized I was insane. That's when I realized that not saying anything was the best thing for me. She has her life. She chose her path. She wants little to do with me, and there was nothing I was going to do to help either of our situations. Plus, I loved her. Sometimes letting go is the best gesture of love that one can offer for the sake of the other's happiness. Her scent wasn't my Kryptonite, although it was definitely funny to think about: I was. I was my own Kryptonite.

We went on to Hot Mama's and had a terrific evening. It was exactly what I needed.

I learned a couple things that night. 1. Stop passing out, just get weed. I hear it emulates the moments right after passing out, and if there's one thing passing out did for me it was that it helped me realize that happiness was up to me. Although I never ended up having much weed, I still probably should have, and 2.

Some things are better left unsaid.

A lot easier said now that--three years later--autumn is over and Winter is back.

-PatInTheHat

And So It Is

The blower's daughter...


For each rose that dies in the name of love: A heart beats infinite life.

- PatInTheHat

The Color of Music

I love music.

More specifically, I love the music that my mind sees colors to. I doubt I have synesthesia, but there's something about music that makes me feel outside of myself.

Some music I absolutely despise. I despise this music mostly because I don't see the same kind of colors. Instead of bright colors, I see grey. Perhaps it's why I'm so adamantly against songs I really don't like. It may seem like the music I  like or dislike is a direct correlation of my feelings towards whoever likes or dislikes that music. That's definitely not true. I mostly dislike Taylor Swift, but I find myself having greater connections with people who do. I don't think that means I'm a walking contradiction, but perhaps it could.

Sometimes I can't listen to music. It can be so emotionally exhausting that I need time apart from it like it's a strained relationship; however, like strong relationships, we're always there for each other. Sometimes it really needs to tell me a message, and I really need to listen to it. And, in case you're wondering, no. It's never a one-sided conversation. A dialogue is always present.

For me, a song's intention--the message it's attempting to convey--is what brings out an over or under-abundance of color. Music written hundreds of years ago didn't have words, but it still conveyed a message. Although it has not been proven, it's been historically documented that Beethoven saw colors with the music he wrote. Without any music/piano/etc. in front of him, he was always seen closing his eyes and, with his hands, conducting an orchestra in his mind. Whether it was a symphony or concerto he was writing, his work was felt in every single note. There's a reason why his works are still so well known and appreciated, and it's because it's impossible not to feel his emotions.

I write my own music. I'm not particularly good at it, but I strive to be better for no other reason than wanting to see the same colors that other songs have allowed me to see over the course of my 24-year existence. The kind of colors that are elicited through the songs I appreciate are soul-stymieing.
Time. Stops.

Of course, songs also kindle certain emotions from all of us. Emotions that we'd otherwise only have if we're really happy, sad, or angry about something. In these instances, music is a driving force of love, hate, disdain, pleasure, uninterruptible prosperity, and, of course, euphoria. 

Music is where we learn valuable lessons through the words of the wise (or the thoroughly drugged). It's where we feel at home when places aren't able to do the trick. It's where we danced our first dance with our true loves before we even knew it to be true. Sometimes music takes hold of our heartstrings in such a way that happiness or sadness is forever associated with it. The power of music mesmerizes us as we walk through a luscious garden that is there in place of the normal city sidewalk. The moment the headphones come off, we're back in the bleak reality of grey noise.

Can you see music in people? I sure can. Sometimes when I look at someone I know, I see them in music. No, not musical notes. I'm not some musical version of the Rain Man, but there are a lot of times when I look at someone and feel music exuding from them. Sometimes it has to do with their personality. Other times it just has to do with their current mood. This is how I feel people before I even ask them how they're doing. (Introspectively, that's probably why it's harder for me to talk to people through text or on the phone: I can't see/or feel their music.)

 If you can feel the positive music, you can become the positive music and vice versa. For me, I love it all.

-PatInTheHat

Growing Up

Actions speak louder than words.

I'm sure many of you have heard me utter this phrase, but, as annoying as it may be to hear it from me, I believe it to be a simple truth.

Readers, I can't even begin to describe the earthquakes that my mind has endured over the past two years. To someone who hasn't gone through seemingly unendurable heartbreak, it might be hard to understand how my mind has worked the way it has. Realizing that my mind was too heavily on the forefront of my decision-making processes lead to both good and bad decisions. Ultimately, though, without the sacrifice my heart was willing to give--sacrifices that my heart is considerably more willing to give when it's healthy--my bad decisions  were closer to colossally bad, but I didn't realize how colossally bad they were until my heart started beating at the right intervals again.

If you've experienced the same sun-sets-once-per-day cycle for the past two years, many of my days felt more like an Alaskan winter in comparison--no sun, darkness, and cold.

The lack of sun details the lack of positivity I was able to find each day. Although there may have been many positive people/events around me, I found the negative in all of it. I was a shell of myself, and I was unsure how to break free from the confines of the mold. I'm sure I was able to show positivity on the outside, but on the inside was a constant struggle. My hope is that I did not bring down my friends with me. If I did at any point: I'm sorry.

The darkness was my fear of being alone. For a large part of the last two years, it was very hard for me to be at home. I constantly needed to be out so that I didn't allow my mind to drift into sadness--the darkness. To everyone that was there for me, I appreciate you more than you could ever understand. In order to continue to better myself, I needed to listen to all of you individually. And, trust me, I did. Lengthy conversations with numerous people--some of which I don't even talk to anymore--helped me a great deal. I met a lot of new people. I kept my cards close to my chest. For those I didn't see that much, it was nothing personal...I just didn't want you to see me sad.

The cold was my heart. I became excruciatingly apathetic and I hated it. I hate that I wasn't able to feel or that I just didn't care. With my apathy I created a path of destruction, and in my wake I left people I cared about in a similar sad state that I felt--To clarify, since I used "cared" to describe my feelings towards people after apathetic, I did care about people I just didn't care about difficulties. I couldn't handle tough times. I strictly needed positive outlooks. In this regard, I'm sure I seemed cold and detached to many of you. As my high school trig teacher would say, "It's the nature of the beast." If you're thinking this is not a good excuse to potentially hurt other people, I completely agree with you. It's not a good excuse. I was a weak human being who participated in seemingly callous and inconsequential acts that were devoid of normal, empathetic emotion. Some people call this "being stuck." I call it "being awful." In circumspect, I have come to realize what my actions really meant, and I'll get to that momentarily.

__________

It's not every day that we find a soulmate. That one person whom we see partial reflections of ourselves in and vice versa, and someone whom we can't see life without. Soulmates aren't necessarily romantic relationships. I would argue, though, that if a romantic relationship and our soulmate is the same person, then that's definitely a bonus. Every relationship, though--from acquaintanceship to romantic relationship--starts with the foundation of trust. Trust is something we all take for granted one way or another, and the best of us take it for granted the least.

Over the past two years I took trust for granted on multiple occasions. I threw all caution to the wind, and did things to break that trust that I would not have done 2-3 years prior. For those that have read posts before this I call the period before 2 years ago my stupid-but-happy period. I have since tried--though on occasion irreverently--to bridge the gap between being happy and knowing that life can and will shit on me at any one moment in time, and I just need to be prepared for it. For me, it hasn't been an easy task, but what in life really is?  I digress...

I hurt my soulmate. It is the worst thing I have ever done in my entire life. I can't turn back time and change my mistake like The Doctor. I'ts a fixed point in time. The only thing I can do is work on being better. And, if they let me, work on earning back their trust.

I can't emphasize enough how important it is for all of us to own up to our mistakes. I think it's pretty essential to growing up/taking command of our lives. I used to be afraid of making mistakes. I used to be afraid of other people knowing the mistakes that I've made. I'm not afraid anymore. Ashamed, yes, but a better person for those mistakes.

Thanks for reading.

- PatInTheHat

Trump Card

What. In Allah. Is going on?

Honestly, I can't remember the last time I was more confused in my entire life. There was the time George W. Bush got a second term, the time I found out Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny weren't real, and the time Dan Aykroyd was actually Bill Murray in Space Jam. Even with all of these confusions, and especially the last one, none of them are more confusing than Donald Trump leading all Republicans in the run for president. NONE!

Do you know that feeling when you just wake up from a dream in the middle of the night; just in those first few seconds, and you just have no idea where the hell you are? Everything is dark, and every strange looking shadow looks like a being from another planet. That terrifying moment is exactly how I've felt ever since Trump started running for president. And that fear is heightening every time I see that he's beating out, what I would call "legitimate humanoids" in the race to run our country.

Now, on the other hand, it could be a fantastically amazing thing for the Democratic party if Trump wins the Republican primary, because--at least you would think--whatever Democratic candidate that wins primary would be a shoe-in for president, right? Isn't that a logical train of thinking? I mean, there's no way Trump actually becomes POTUS right?

Can everyone just take a quick step back, just for one second, and think about a world with Trump as POTUS. For me, the first thing that comes to mind is a scene from any Terminator movie where the whole world is basically one fuck-storm of shit. The second thing that comes to mind is that moment where Harry's character in Dumb and Dumber-er is accused by Bob Saget's character of shitting all over the bathroom (SPOILERS: it's actually just melted chocolate, but that's besides the point).

I mean, listen, I've joked before--sometimes semi-seriously--about moving out of this country because of all of the shitty goings on here, but the fact that Trump has a chance to run this country for 4 years makes me want to start saving money now in the legitimate event that he becomes president, because our nation is still full of cluster-fucks who think it's perfectly OK to be a bigoted asshole (yes, that was a run-oniest of run-on sentences, but it was much needed OK?!). Every single progression that Obama has made for this country in the past (almost) 8 years would likely be reversed. The world's collective brain would spontaneously combust!

This is the part, in earnest, that I start yelling at the Democratic party: You. Need. To. Vote. For the love of fuck. For the love of every fuck there is, if you do NOT vote then this country could enter into the worst 4 years of its existence.

Want to know what's really scary? Every single time a president has gone two terms, whether Republican or Democrat, the following POTUS came from the opposite party. Every time. Every. Single. Time. If Donald Trump actually WINS the Republican primary, then, with history on his side, a really good chance of seeing Trump as POTUS.

If there's one thing Democrats have been awful at for quite some time, it's voting. And I'll admit, even though I've only been voting age for 6 years (voted 2 of 3 times), I started out as everyone else, "Ahh, my vote won't really matter. There's no point." No. No. Play that card any other time. NOT. THIS. TIME!

No one wants to live in fear. It's stressful. It's painful. It's exhausting, debilitating, etc. But this time...this time you HAVE to be afraid. Fear will keep us from potential and unequivocal destruction. We will see the quickest turn-around of progress to regress that has ever been observed. There is a very real chance with Trump at the helm that we go from the United States of today to the Greece of today. THE GREECE, PEOPLE! The Greece.

Think I'm joking? Here's an article on how Trump has handled his businesses:

http://www.vanityfair.com/news/2015/06/donald-trump-companies-bankruptcy-atlantic-city

With as much money as Trump has, it's easy for him to play Monopoly on a small-scale. Yes, although owning separate businesses sounds like "big-scale" to the rest of us, it's small in comparison to, ya know, running our country's finances. Not only am I concerned about his financial dealings, which is worry enough, could anyone seriously imagine this guy being our Commander in Chief?! He would bomb everything that made him upset! It would be like that movie with Denzel Washington called "The Book of Eli." Everything would just be sand-dunes. We'd all be dead from a past nuclear holocaust. Am I over-exaggerating? Well, fuck, do I hope so.

Let's not even give it a chance, though. Please?

Thank you.

- PatInTheHat

Let It Be Written

So, I think it's that time of the month where I write a post that's considerably less serious, and actually might be a lot more fun to think about.

I've recently been thinking about an idea for a game show. The show would be called, as the title of the post is written, "Let It Be Written." In case you guys try to stay away from cliches that your parents and grand parents used--and good on you if you're one of those people--"Let it be written" is the start of a (once) popular phrase that is said in it's entirety, "Let it be written. Let it be law."

The reason for this title, before I begin to describe the show's format: Game show networks love when cliches are part of their title. For one, the Whammy show is actually called "Press Your Luck!" Many other shows tend to do this, too, I just don't feel like listing them all. The point is, the show title already has that "catchy" value that network producers seem to look for.

The show/game: The idea for the game came from going through a list of written names at work, while also deciphering their comments. One worker, named Jamie, has what I would deem to be "masculine handwriting." However, I have no idea what his or her actual gender is, and I have not and will not ask(ed).
That said, the game wouldn't completely revolve around a document being actually written, but it's still in a part of the game and makes sense in the context of the whole game play. For example:

Phase 1: In this part of the game, contestant(s) would be given a quote on screen IN TEXT, i.e. NOT in written form, from a famous person. They would get 30 or so seconds to answer who the quote was written by and in what document/book/etc they wrote it in. If they can at least answer 1 of the 2, they get a certain amount of points (If they answer both, they get a certain more amount of points, and are given another textual quote). If they are unsure then they can say, "Skip!" and move to phase 2. If they are unsure, but still have a "Pass" option--which each contestant starts out with 2 per contest--then they can pass the doc over to the other contestant. In this case, they risk going down points, but if they guess incorrectly they lose X amount of points. So, it's a risk/reward strategy. If the contestant guesses the NAME of the writer, it will be assumed they also know the gender of the writer, therefore they win the points from Phase 2 without playing. If the contestant ONLY remembers which book, etc. the quote was written in, they get X minus 5 points of guessing the name.

Phase 2: In phase 2, the document is shown WRITTEN by the original writer. They have a 50/50 shot at guessing if the document is written by a man or woman for X minus 5 or 10 points of getting the name right in Phase 1. This might seem a little cheesy, but it will help keep contestants in the game simply by guessing.

The game is played in 3 rounds with each round having at least 3 sets of 2 phases as time permits, and each round getting harder--i.e. the quotes and writers will be deemed more obscure than the previous rounds. At the end of round 2 a winner is named for the amount of points they have over the other contestant. They move to round 3 to get two "very hard" difficulty level quotes. If they get them right, they win the game and the grand prize. In round 3, the winning contestant has a certain amount of money locked that they could walk away with if they so chose. But here's the interesting part: In order to use "Clues"--a lifeline only accessible in the grand-prize round--they will have to pay X amount of money from their bank to access them (this is similar to buying a vowel on the Wheel of Fortune). And the kicker is, they get an UNLIMITED amount of clues and 2 skips, which means they will have to use clues sparingly if they hope to go home with X amount of money plus whatever they would win for the grand prize. (Obviously the time they have to answer would get harder in rounds 1 and 2, but perhaps more time given to them in the final grand prize round since the quotes are harder)

Now, as many of you know: I love being creative. It's an avenue I use basically on the daily with music, writing, etc. That said, I also love getting feed back! Let me know what you guys think of the idea, and hit me back with suggestions to bolster the excitement of the game! I'm sure there are other ways that could get people glued to their television screens! I feel like this kind of show would have a Jeopardy type audience and contestant field. So whatever ideas you have, gear them along those lines!

If I get more ideas, or you guys can think of ways to tighten up the format, then I would seriously consider pitching this to a network! And, of course, anyone who has usable ideas will be granted the title of Co-Creator!

Thanks a bunch!

- PatInTheHat

Stone Glass pt. 2

"Jenny!" Merlot calls out from the crowded first-floor hallway. The mornings right before classes start and the afternoons right after classes end are when the halls are basically a sea of people. Think the worst rush-hour traffic you've ever been in, except with people. Almost impossible to hear anyone over the endless sound of footsteps and teenage gossip, and good luck finding someone recognizable. On the flip side, if you're into someone particularly cute, like ourschool'sstartingquarterbackJoshBrennan it's easier to ogle at them without being noticed--ya know, if he or she can even be found. Good thing Josh is 6'6", and easy to spot anywh....Jesus, Jenny, snap out of it!

"Merlot! Meet by the bathroom!" I shout as loud as I can. Once I'm able to gather my things from my locker, the bathroom is, for whatever reason, the least crowded place before class. Though that fact shouldn't bother me, it sorta does. Whatever, I'm weird. I swim through the sea and finally reach the bathroom. Merlot is already there with cell-phone-pasted-to-eyeballs waiting for me. She looks up.

"I was just texting you! It's about time you got here." Merlot whines.
"I would have been a lot quicker if I were Moses. Anyway, have you seen my brother?" As the question slips out of my mouth, I realize how dumb it was. We're Seniors. My brother is a Freshman. Sea of people. Etcetera, etcetera..
"Nevermind, dumb question," I edit a loud, "but do me a favor and keep an eye out. He disappeared on our way to school, and I haven't seen him since.
"Yeah, no problem, Jenns. So, did you see Josh this morning?" She asks with a wry all-knowing grin.
"Did anyone not see him, jerk? He's the tallest guy in school, and you better be keeping this a secret between us!"
"Relax, Jennzers. Your crush is safe with me," she says with a wink as if to say safe-with-me-in-my-possession.

Like the wine, sometimes Merlot is a perfect combination of friend and foe. Friend when you drink it socially to relax and have a good time with; foe when you drink enough to have the worst hangover-induced headache the next day. I love Merlot, but, boy, is the hangover part of her a huge bitch to deal with.

Most of the time I've known Merlot I have felt like I'm constantly trying to catch up. First off, she's gorgeous. I'm a straight 18-year-old girl. I have a firm grasp on my sexuality. I'd make an exception for Merlot. That is something that is hard for me to admit, but true nonetheless. Ya know, like how Dr. Who fans lust for David Tennant. Much the same between Merlot and I. Secondly, she's brilliant, but I admit her work-ethic, especially this year as a senior, is bar-known. And she's kind. Yes, she can be a jerk to me sometimes, but Merlot is loved by everyone. So, anytime she makes a semi-wanting sarcastic joke about a guy I like, I automatically assume that the potential of her snagging him is very real. I hate feeling like I'm less than her, but I appreciate her being my friend. Her biggest saving grace is that she's loyal to a point. Really, with everything other than men, but even then she's gotten better over the years. It's not like we've been in the dating game for very long anyway, so there's only so much I have to judge her for.

Do I ramble about pretty people? Yeah, I'll try to stop that.

Just before I enter my first period class, I see Ben running in the opposite direction towards the gym. There isn't a 1st period gym, so I'm suspicious. At least he's safe and at school. I'm sure I'll find out what's going on later. For now: Trig.