About a year I go I wrote about a dilemma I had about meeting my biological father. I had been reluctant to get into contact with him because I was already having  trouble with the other two men that had an opportunity to play Papa. Unfortunately Bio-Dad, James, had been diagnosed with colon cancer, and time may have become a factor. I knew that if I didn't take the chance when I had it, I may regret my selfishness in the future. So I open the line of communication between the two of us. And it was just as weird as I thought it would be.

 Being as introverted personally as I am it began a very slow quid pro quo. James and I had very similar lives through the good and the bad. I've always had a hard time with my childhood, because I never want people to feel sorry for me, as did he. It was truly the first time that I could hear another story and feel connected to it. It can be difficult when you are adopted to sense a connection with family members, or siblings because you are not actually connected. Although that can be a positive when your family does something crazy and you can say to yourself, "well, at least I'm not like them!"

 When I found out I was adopted, it didn't affect me because I was blessed by a wonderful mother. This was someone who loved the little afro man. I was hers and no piece of paper, or DNA test could take that away. My siblings are the same. You'll never win an argument with them(I've tried) that I'm not their blood. It's always comforted me when I crawl into that dark place and think I'm alone. James didn't have this blessing. He lived with a family that enjoyed the cheque the government gave them far more than him. He was beaten, abused constantly, and lived a life of fear as young child. I could relate the horrors of stronger man taking out misplaced rage onto a child. It kind of funny that the first connection that we shared was something so terrible. It immediately brought us together. When he escaped the shackles of foster life he moved to the big city of Halifax and dove deep into the bar scene as a bartender( sounds vaguely familiar) From there every temptation was explored. Including a one-night stand with a young student from PEI. (and boom goes the Hrushowy)
  James continued down a bumpy path, and it lead him to some extremely morbid places. Incarceration, drug abuse, but when it was time to figure out life he did. The path led him to the bible, which bought him a new lease on life. He met his future wife, had a daughter, and turned his life into what he always wanted. As years went by, he focused on righting the wrongs of his past. He sought out an estranged daughter, and yours truly. His request was simple, he just wanted to meet me and know the son he didn't know he had. After all he didn't even learn about my existence until 28 yrs after I was born. Bio-Mom flew to Nova Scotia and broke the news. It cleared her conscience and invigorated his. He sent letters, and Christmas salutations, all of which I ignored in my "push everyone away" wanna-be writer way. I was going to be damaged and truthfully, my story had been fairly perfected. I'd told it 1000 times. A new character would change everything!
  I'm so glad that I changed my mind. Granted it took a few years of growth on my part, and the kids helped, but I did. We wrote letters at first. Facebooked each other pictures. Within the year, James told me that he was passing through Toronto and wanted to get together. So we organized a dinner, and before I knew it I was on my way to the GO Train to meet the Bio-Dad. As I pulled up, I snickered that I was looking for a 58 yr old version of me. And there he was. Big goofy joker smile, only balder, and darker than me. I've spent most of my life not looking like anyone, so this was a little creepy. When he spoke, this deep voice boomed out that sounded like mine. I was freaking me out!! The people at the Tim Hortons knew we were related, I mean how crazy is that!
 We had dinner, and talked each others ears off. He recollected the bad times, the good, even how he had no idea who Bio-Mom was. He said, "it was a crazy time. I was 19. There were some nights I don't remember" I hear that! Every time the phone rings I fear the same you're my Dad conversation, but it's usually collection agencies. He spent the night with the wife and kids, we had breakfast the next day. Before he left for the home and family he missed so much, we spent one more night reveling in the twists and turns each of our lives had taken. And how wonderful it was that they had intersected. I learned that I had two half sisters, one a year older the other 27 year younger. He saw what became of a drunken night, and I had saw what had become of a man that struggled to find himself, but ultimately did.
  Maybe I'll be able to look back and say that all three "fathers" gave me something that I can use to contribute to my life. That in some way they were actually, in a weird way, what I needed to become a whole man. I can only watch my own kids and hope that I've absorbed the lessons properly, and applied myself appropriately. Only time will tell.

  Last night, January 27th 2011, James Mc Namara passed away. He fought hard and heroically against colon cancer but consequently lost. A man that literally wanted to fix every part of his life he felt he influenced negatively.Even when he hadn't. I had to explain to him that all of the darkness and despair in my life had nothing to do with him. That I never felt  resentment towards him in any way. Those shitty parts of my life were not his concern, nor his responsibility. Without his persistence I would not have been able to have told him that. He sensed the clock running down on his life and wanted to answer any questions. Not for him....but for us. It's selflessness in way we could all learn from. Of all the concerns he ever had, I hope that he saw the kind of unbelievable monarch that he was for his community, his church, his wife, and most important his youngest daughter. She got to see the true angel that maybe the rest of us were just learning about. She got the shortest glimpse, but easily the most poignant. Seeing so many of my scattered brothers and sisters with broken homes, and questionable father-figures, it's nice to know that she has the memory of truly great man.

"I've come to far to turn back now,just walk and and don't look back.Ya heard me....."James McNamara
June 22, 1952 - January 27, 2011

Tri-Polar

  After my last rant about being alone and blah, blah, I started to think about the idea that we are a society that's based off what others think about us. Perhaps the best part is we will never be sure what their true opinions are, but we can be sure what we want them to be. Of course I'd like to think that I'm different, or special, but I am most likely not. (go ahead and start your "Special, like short bus to school, special" jokes!)

  I've always wondered if women are like us. Do they dream of having super powers, being a ninja, or fantasize about making it as pro ball player? I don't think they do. They seem so reasonable, and understanding. We sit on the floor and make a promise to a bunch of strangers that we will stand shoulder to shoulder with them on XBOX's Call of Duty. They don't. We portray an image of  a UFC fighter, or Nascar driver, even though we;re fat and drive a station wagon. A 30 yr old woman wearing sweat pants is coming from the gym, we think it's "going out" wear. maybe that's the balance that keeps us bouncing off each other. When I go to the park with the kids I want them to climb the side and jump off the top, but she wants them to be careful.

Granted women could learn from our perspective on not worrying about what other think, and we could learn from their ability to recognize that a shirt with Minny going down on Mickey is inappropriate for a birthday at Chuck E Cheese. What can I say, we're different.

   Now I've mentioned this before, but it's something that I truly believe in. We are not the clothes, car, or job we have. In fact the rolls that we play are completely separated from those things. A few years back we would shutter to think that people were leading double lives, but now we all are. Look at us...pretending to like our jobs and the people there. Upgrading our phones that are so advanced that they could hear a pin drop, yet we're talking louder so the people in line at Tim Hortons can see what a big shots we are. Getting clever vanity plates for a gigantic truck that has nuts and costs $200 to fill up with gas, but makes people believe that I am just as strong and tough as it. 30+ year old men dressing in Sean John jeans and hoping no one notices the grey peeking out from their fauxhawk.
    There was an article in a Toronto paper talking about how young men(early 20s) were the worst productive they've ever been. The idea of being a douche bag isn't enough to deter these hooligans from acting up. They'd rather cling together in groups, sharing stories of where they bought their Ed Hardy shirts, and scream JagerBombs at the top of there lungs. And I try to make fun of them, they take that like a pat on the back and continue to douche it up.

However, every 20+ woman I know is bonding with each other over the idea of success. They're holding onto their personality, and aren't changing it for anyone. Especially a man! All the women I work with are strong minded, opinionated, and sure of at least one thing, themselves. The have distinct career aspirations, they're driven, and they're hot(and they know it) Perhaps the greatest part about that is that they're comfortable within their limits. I've seen these girls get dressed up and go out, and they control the room the way that men used to. In my day(cause I'm so old) the men were the focal point of a night club. Their attitude and charisma were a huge part. The women stayed to the side of the room and waited for a stud to come over and make his move. Now there's all these primas getting streaks in their hair and singing audio message wake calls for girls they haven't even slept with!! What the fuck! These women are looking for a man with confidence, and personality, but I'm not sure they're still here. All of a sudden look who's out looking for a one night stand and not caring about the consequence, whilst graffiti shirt tough guy is weeping over the phone at 3am.

  Things have changed there is no doubt, and I can't help but wonder if there will ever be a middle ground with our behavior. I know that I still watch cartoons more than anything, that when I go up the stairs I pretend that I'm in the SWAT team. I know that Tam reads more than I write, and I finished the NHL season on XBOX in the same time it took her to read every Dexter novel. I know that my daughter reads every night and my son bites the heads off dolls.
  I know that it's hard to tell the truth, to be who you really are, but I'm gonna keep trying. I hope you will to, because I promise that I won't like you because of your truck, your shirt, or your image, it'll be because of who you are.
But I will dislike you for all of those things.

"Bee yourself" - Aladdin. (from the movie of the same name)
"...one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." - Martin Luther King Jr (notice it doesn't say characters)

Hot Yoda

  So early this morning, the better half suggested that I join her in a hot Yoga class. Now normally I'd find some excuse about being too fat, or something, but I owed her one since I passed out on friends floor over night the day before. (it was your standard after Christmas party-drunk mistakes, chickenheads throwing glassware at the boss, etc) So I went. And I sucked!! It was hot...I smelled, and I'm almost positive that the rented mat will now reek of stale vodka. But I did it. I made it through an entire 90 minute class without crying or falling over. (Unlike the party)

    What I liked about the class was the deep breathing, and focusing. Something I don't do enough of. I could take the time to find the spot on the ceiling and think. It reminded me of theatre school many moons ago, except I wasn't high. I always scatter my brain about different projects that I want to do, but I have no time to start, finish, or polish any of them. All this other shit gets in the way. Wife, kids, and job. Those 7 minutes between wiping my kids ass, and eating their left over Mac 'n' cheese over the sink, I take a deep breathe and play NHL11 on XBOX. This allows me to relax by swearing at the TV, and scathing the fake referees in a computer game. It doesn't work as well as you think. There's booze, which I enjoy, but shouldn't probably do all the time(anymore). I'm not sure that I'll continue at the rampant pace others partake in Yoga, but I'll go again. Especially cause the guy that stripped down in front of me in the change room showed me his cock. All that for 20$ what a morning!


  It did force me to think about the advice I give to others. We're quick to give others our opinions, but at times do not follow our own suggestions. Last night I realized I dished a lot of "you know what I think" probably cause I was hungover. I told more than one person that the have to take time to themselves in order to find themselves. One of the hardest things that we do as adults is learn to like ourselves. And to realize that we don't need another to define who we are. The book The Celestine Prophecy said that you need to be a complete person in order to be in a healthy relationship(I'm paraphrasing) People that get together with people to fill the voids within themselves are destined for failure. If you're a half circle and find another half circle then together you create a full circle. If you are a full circle then you can find another full circle to be with. It's coming to grips with being yourself. The example I used was going to a movie alone, which I love to do. A friend had mentioned that she had never done that, and never would. What's funny is, that would suggest that the strangers in the movie house somehow impact your experience. Them judging you sitting alone, thinking that someone stood you up, whatever. But it's a fucking movie, you're not supposed to talk, so who gives a shit if you're alone. Those moments alone teach you about the things you truly like. In closer communities you have no choice who you grow up with, so you're friends with people out of circumstance and proximity, but when you're on your own, you decide to do whatever you want because you want to!

So judge me all you want, I'm going to yoga again. And those hotties can see I'm fat, and I'm sweating all over the floor. Cause I'm probably staring at their ass!

Save Ferris...

The other day I was walking my six year old to school and I started to freak out. First of all, when did she turn six? I put my arm around her and she said, "we're not on a date!" She didn't want me to walk her right up to the gate at school, and she didn't even look back at me as she went off to play. Is it possible that I've already lost those precious years? Soon it's cell phones, and text messages, and stay out of my room...

It was a beautiful snowy morning and as I strolled home through my snobby, yuppy neighborhood. Most of the residents are blue collar-types, but have risen above the usual stereotypes and pay grades in order to buy a better life. It doesn't, however, change the attitude, or behavior. There are still Saturdays filled with the roaring of engines and white hairy bellies exposed all over the driveways. Suddenly it struck me....is this it?

So many of us become content, and that's good. That's on the way to happy. Happy is difficult.Content is pretty good considering. When you have kids the times in between work and\or parenting and\or dance class, and etc, goes extremely fast. It isn't the time with kids that goes racing by it's the time without. Most young parents can probably tell you on one hand the amount of times they have been sans enfants.  For me it was over a year ago when I went to Vancouver for 8 days. Before that...it was a Sunday afternoon in May. The weird thing for me is the idea of getting comfortable. I don't do well with that, I'd rather continue to try new things, see new things and hopefully never think that revving my Corvette that I love more than my wife in diveway is some sort of celebration of life.

I could picture myself ten years down the road talking about lawn care with the neighbors, and preparing to put the winter tires on. Over using the word cottage come spring and pontificating about the players the Maple Leafs need to get to that "next level". It's nice. It's real, but is it me?

As I got home in time to watch my 2 year old throw everything down the stairs in a new version of the game he invented, "destroy everything" I flipped on AMC just in time to see the opening scene of Ferris Bueller's Day Off.  What struck me wasn't the sentiment that you have to take the time to slow down once in a while, or else life will just pass you by, but the fact that when Matthew Broderick played that famous character he was ten years older than his on-screen persona. The most famous teen was a mid-twenties dude! John Hughes took a chance...

So did Broderick. As did Ferris!

It got me thinking, maybe I should show some balls like Hughes, and Broderick, and Ferris. This isn't it for me. I don't fit the mold here. I find myself fighting so hard to not be like anyone around me, that I'm not even me! So I've decided to do something else...to try something new...to think like I'm 27, not 37.

John Hughes has brought us some of the greatest, inspirational movies of all time. They spoke to a generation that seemed lost and truthfully helped us understand ourselves. For the first time in a long time, I feel like Ferris is talking to me. I am him, and he is me...

The message I hear is, " you might try saving yourself"

weird dayz

You ever get that feeling that today is going to be different than other days? I had that feeling about today, and I've been trying since about 8a.m. to figure out why. So far...


It could be one these:

Winter- Being a west coaster, I didn't believe that there was anything to the phenomenon of SAD(seasonal adjustment disorder), but after ten plus years of living in Ontario I'm starting to come around. It's cold, and dark, and the days are only about 20 min long. If you combine that with going to work and dealing with some asshole that "is a little disappointed" with not getting a booth, you start to go a bit crazy. Add the fact that the kids have no where to go except the living room, where they are watching Dora\Diego, icarly, and spongeBob over and over, and over! You can't go to the park, or ride your bike, it's a fucking disaster. My theory is that people that go to restaurants in the city go for good food and the experience, I truly believe that the people that go out in suburbia just want to complain. The wait, the chair, the food, the service, etc...
What I dont' understand more than anything is not knowing your environment. Complaining about the quality of a hotdog vendor at 3 in the morning, isn't the same as the foie gras at Bymark. If your entire dinner, drink and dessert totals under 20 bucks, maybe relax on setting the bar too high. Hold on I just gotta shovel the steps again...

I haven't written a blog in almost a year, and i gotta say that's kinda pissed me off too. It's not that I think anyone reads these, but it's kinda for me. I know that some people say things like, "I wrote a blog about that, you should read it". Anybody who knows me, knows I would never pass up a chance to talk, so I'd rather orate my story, than somebody reading it telling me my spelling suxs. Writing for me is cathartic. It's soothes my brain to be able to write down my thoughts, whether it's through scripts, stories and even the occasional blog. See not everything that I want to rant about fits into a story, so I use this to argue\make a point. I'm sure that I don't have point, and it's not much of an argument considering that no one else gets to have a say, but whatever. I've been putting off writing in hopes that it would give me an opportunity to have a creative blow up. And it worked!! I didn't think it would but over the past few weeks I have been feverishly jotting down notes on ideas for scripts, features, short stories, blah blah blah. I love to tell stories, and I'm not even sure which are accurate anymore, yet I continue to tell them. I assume that exaggeration adds to the entertainment value for the listener(that's you) What adds to the weirdness of the day is that my mind is crammed with information right now. I'm going to have to play NHL11 just to settle on some ideas.
(then an hour before I have to go to work I'll realize I haven't done anything!!)

My son is the greatest dancer of all time, I just wish I didn't have to watch the entire 1hr Dora Christmas special to see it.

Finally...
 Perhaps the craziest thing that has happened today was jaunt through my past on Facebook. I've mentioned before that I'm not a huge fan of Facebook. The ridiculous updates about eating or pooping, the cryptic messages that 40 people comment on even though it's directed to one particular person, basically the oversharing. That being said, I do use it and feel the rush as my friend total climbs. How far away are we as a society from listing our friend total in our obituaries. "he will be remembered by his wife, two children and 491 facebook friends". So during a Creep down memory lane I came across someone that I didn't have a friendship with, in fact it was more of a rivalry. He probably wouldn't remember me, but because of the circumstances(with a woman in between) I will always remember him. But it's unfair that I didn't like him, although when I tell that story the exaggerations are immense, and very unflattering. But that was well over ten years ago....I should probably let it go. I've tried to become a better person, I haven't, but I'm trying.  So I sent him a friend invite" . I don't know if he'll accept, but I assume that there is nothing wrong with tyring. As we all get older, even I think that being so pissed off at the little things can be exhausting. While I spied over his life, it reminded me that there was a girl in this story. I did the classic research, google followed by facebook. Lets face it we'd think the person was a loser if we couldn't find them online nowadays. And sure enough there she was. Clear as day, listing her favorites on FB. Holy shit....I was weirded out. Do I friend her? Or not?I scanned the limited information that was there, as I expected there wasn't a lot. She was never really the centre of attention girl. But why today? I've looked before and don't remember ever seeing her. Of all days, what made this Wednesday be the day that her profile seemed accessible? It turns our that today is her birthday. Sometimes we have these strange connections, these overviews of our lives, this inner push towards and answer whether we want it or not. A day that we used to celebrate together hasn't meant shit to me in a decade, but this Jan 19th I stroll through the past and find a milestone....weird