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I decided tonight to finally watch “Twilight” because I felt it was a part of pop culture about which I was ignorant. My rationale was that it’s a vampire movie, not simply a teen romance fantasy. Well it turned out to be more about teen courtship, but I guess that isn’t surprising. What did strike me as interesting though is how blinded these characters were by their own conceit.

In the following paragraphs, I’ll give a number of examples from the movie, quoting lines, but not giving away any real plot points. If you’ve never seen this film and would like to not get anything spoiled, you’d be better off not reading further. In fact, even if you have seen the film, it might be a good idea to stop reading if you’d like it to remain a romantic fantasy in your mind.

The movie struck a chord with me because I can relate to the idea of being overcome enough with myself that I forget fundamental facts. For instance, when I’m out on a dance floor grooving to the music, I tend to forget that I am a big, hairy dude pushing 40. In my mind, I am a good dancer who can keep the rhythm and execute some moves pretty well. I think I look pretty good, if only for a few moments while the music has me captivated. Without my positive self-image, I supposed I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to dance at all. So it isn’t always a bad thing.

Conceit is just a problem when it distracts us from reality enough to put us in danger. Several of the characters in “Twilight” seem to have this problem throughout the movie. First the lead vampire character: He imagines himself to be invincible. So he spills his secrets to a virtual stranger. He makes statements like, “I’m the world’s most dangerous predator.” Not realizing that his lack of humility and his compassion negate that statement. Predators don’t protect their prey. He also makes the statement, “You’re my own personal heroin.” Without knowing what the drug is like.

The lead female character is just as blind. She realizes this guy she barely knows might be a vampire. So she walks into the wood with him alone to confront him. It’s a move so ridiculously stupid that I laughed out loud when I saw it. Imagine a child realizing the neighbor is a pedophile then going into his basement with him to ask him about it. But this character, because she thinks that her looks or brains or sex appeal will somehow protector, is completely oblivious of the danger she faces.

That’s not the worst part of the film for me though. Something clicked in my head when the vampire explained to the girl how her smell was driving him crazy. She asked him tons of questions about all the things involved in vampirism, but never asked what she smelled like. If she had, I suspect the romance would have been drained from the plot faster than blood from a punctured artery. You see, vampires are crazy about one thing: blood. And women have only one place on them where blood regularly exits.

Early in the movie, when they first meet, the girl walks by a fan that blows her scent in the direction of the vampire. He instantly becomes visibly ill. I can only assume this must mean that she was menstruating at the time. The smell of her bloody vagina must surely have been responsible for his reaction. What’s more, there must be a particularly pungent odor in her undies. I assume a guy with extra keen senses, who’s been seventeen for the last hundred years, was sure to run into his fair share of stinky high school chicks over the years. To make such an impact, this girl must really have been odorific! It’s also possible to deduce that she must know she’s particularly musky and that’s the reason why she didn’t ask what smell the vampire was picking up.

Of course this is a disturbing train of thought to ride for any length of track. The mind begins to wander and before long I’m wondering whether desperate vampires are foraging in our trash looking for used tampons or pads to slake their thirst. It occurs to me that there must also be vampires working in our blood testing labs, just waiting to be finished with a sample’s tests before gulping it down. But all this is side-tracking the real reasons for this blog entry.

Human and vampire alike are capable of amazing fetes of self-delusion. The world is how we see it because we can’t accept the possibility that we might be lying to ourselves; that things are different from how we want them to be or how we think they appear. In real life, the world was shocked when a twenty six year old Anna Nicole Smith married J. Howard Marshall II who was 89 at the time. So why have they fallen for the fictional story of a ninety year old vampire falling in love with a teenage girl? It seems pretty sick to me.

Ultimately, I’m only speculating about things in the plot based on what I’ve seen in the movie. But isn’t in conceited to assume a creature whose very survival depends upon drinking blood and killing people, wouldn’t dare do such a thing to you? Doubly so, if he’s actually confessed that he wants to drink your blood. The teens on display in “Twilight” are so self-absorbed that they miss the dangers of the forest while climbing in its trees.

In that world, it’s all glimmer and magic and romance. Yet all I see as an outside observer is old, mostly dead guys, stalking jailbait and acting Emo because that’s what the kids like this generation. Or perhaps it’s just my conceit at work here? Maybe I’m over-analyzing because I think I know more than Twilight’s author. And perhaps that blinds me to the charm and relevance of this series?

What do you think? Who’s the one that’s blinded by conceit?

Almost every morning when I head into Manhattan for work, I have an hour to reflect on things as a boat carries me from Jersey to New York.

Of course one of the things I think about frequently is the vessel responsible for my safe transport across the ocean. It seems well maintained and expertly piloted, but I wonder what the likelyhood of it sinking is.

I wonder if riding a boat frequently is quietly increasing my chances of eventually winding up in the Atlantic instead of my proper destination. I’m not scared of the possibility because I’ve always been a strong swimmer. Plus, the idea of a boat malfunction seems far less life threatening than say, a commuter plane.

I’m probably most fascinated about the ocean currents. I’ve heard frequently how swimmers get swept out to sea by a powerful riptide. It conjures images of objects in space helplessly pulled to their doom by the irresistable gravity of black holes.

The mysterious dark depths of the ocean also intrigue me. I wonder whether I’d be able to stay at the surface long enough to be rescued, or if some shadowy creature from below would pull me beyond the reach of safety.

It’s all a bit morbid perhaps, but then I’ve also had similar speculation about the subway when I rode it regularly. So it’s not a big deal.

I’ve been a ferry rider for over two years now, and the worst incident I had was almost exactly a year ago. I was going to the city for my birthday and I never made it.

Mid way through my journey, some debris clogged the engine. We floated helplessly for over an hour trying to clear the blockage, then slowly sputtered back to our port of origin. It was more annoying than dangerous. Thanks to the bar on board though, the trip wasn’t all bad.

I guess my point in writing this blog entry, is that we sometimes take things for granted. Whether it’s our mode of transport or relative safety on a daily basis. Sure, maybe I’m a crackpot for dwelling on this stuff, but at least it passes the time more quickly on my boat rides.

Well, I said a couple days ago that I might change things up a bit and here’s a good way to do that. This blog post is coming to you, for the first time, from my iPhone directly.

Turns out there’s an app for that. So now I don’t have to lock myself in my office for hours at a time to slave over a new blog entry. Consequently, I’ll have no excuse for not posting more frequently. As an example, this last paragraph was typed up while riding the subway only a couple of stops.

I can’t wait to see how this application will impact my blogging. It’s truly an exciting morning, discovering this new world of possibilities.

My talent for reflection on the subtext of the world around me has put me in a weird headspace as I embark upon the final year of my thirties. I feel like a midlife crisis is due any minute now, even though I can’t imagine ever living long enough to make my thirties qualify as “mid-life.”

Part of the problem might be that my father never made it out of his forties alive. So there’s a certain amount of apprehension that comes with attempting to conquer what he couldn’t, especially since he seemed almost supernatural in his power and resolve when he was alive.

Still, I’ve never been one to be scared. I mean sure I’d get nervous sometimes, or startled by horror movies. I’ll get a sense of dread when I feel something bad is about to go down. None of that is fear though. Previously, the only true fear that registered in my memory banks was when others’ lives were on the line. When my son was battling to survive against the odds after he was born early, or when my wife was trapped in the city on 9-11-01, I know I was scared for them.

Lately though, I find myself scared for my own safety. When I go skateboarding, I worry about falling down and breaking an ankle. When I ride a bike down a hill, suddenly I’m noticing when I might be going too fast. When I was younger, it was impossible for a bike to go fast enough to scare me. Just a few years ago, I was anxious to get a motorcycle license and buy a cruising bike. Today, it doesn’t seem as appealing any more.

It’s only natural that a milestone like my fortieth birthday seems more significant. I think in my case though, it will come long after I’ve turned my corner. As I write this, it has already dawned on me that, going forward it will take more effort to keep myself alive than I’ve had to exert previously. I’m not talking about in a ‘gladiator in the ring’ sort of survival. I mean, watching what I eat, getting enough exercise but not too much, taking needed medication, etc.

This realization is accompanied by its own magical form of paranoia. “Is this going to be the steak that blocks my arteries?” will run through my head. Or maybe, “Is this pain in my arm and chest a heart attack coming on, or just muscle burn from exercising?” Plus, I sometimes wonder stuff like, “Am I ever going to get a chance to travel to Japan before I die?” It’s all unsettling. Nobody should have to live with a ticking clock haunting them.

Yet this is the situation I find myself in. So what to do? Take it as a challenge and fight my old age tooth and nail? Resign myself to antiquity and go quietly into the night? Or do I shrug with apathy and try to keep things as they are?

Well, I’ve always been bored easily. So it could very well be that I act out. I’m not talking about buying a fancy sports car or getting a hair piece. For those would indeed be classified as a “crisis.” I’m talking about erratic behavior. Maybe I’ll wear more silly clothing or dance to music that normally does nothing for me? Who knows!

I’ve gotten the ball rolling in deciding that I want to DJ again. That’s something that should introduce a new bit of excitement into my life. Music has always been a passion of mine. Like a girlfriend, we were once hot and heavy. Then the relationship fizzled for a while. Now, I feel the spark again. My latest dabbling has been the equivalent of getting to second base with this old flame of mine. Hopefully, I can go all the way again soon. Playing clubs and parties in the old days was some of the best times I ever had.

The optimist in me says that I’ve got many more “best times” ahead of me, but it will be hard to top some of my crazier memories, especially if I’m worried about avoiding a back injury or high blood pressure.

I’ve had a long and passionate love affair with the moving image. To this day, I’m a sucker for an engaging television show or an original movie idea. I love getting drawn into a fictional character’s world with the help of a talented actor. My eyes still glaze over in amazement at effective special effects. I still find myself cheering for the good guys to win. These things mean a lot to me. That’s why I was overjoyed to announce an official “movie night” at my house for the first time this week. Little did I know that my love of this media would cause the night to end in disaster.

I blame myself. My formative years were, in no small way, influenced by what I saw and heard on television. Cartoons taught me valuable lessons about the perils of being a bully. Sitcoms showed me that great timing and double-entendres were keys to the comedy kingdom. I learned from TV cops that the bad guys never win. These basic staples of popular culture were every bit as important as the four food groups when I was growing up.

Yet they were all eclipsed by the movies. Going to a theater for a showing of the latest Hollywood offering was a magical event for me. Even though my early experiences with theaters were in the 1980’s when the multiplex was steadily replacing large single-theater venues, I considered every seating a special occasion. My induction into perpetual cinema fandom was ushered in by such classics as “Raiders of the Lost Ark” and “The Empire Strikes Back.” Can you blame me for getting hooked?

When Video Cassette Recorders and cable television first became prominent, it was like someone had opened a portal between two worlds. For the first time, the magic I witnessed in a theater was available to me at home, albeit on a much smaller scale. The television could provide both the daily servings of pop culture that I’d grown accustomed to, and special events like “Ghostbusters.”

My father shared my passion. He would often fall asleep on the couch in front of the television. There was a time when he would have me rent two movies a day from the local video store until there were no more left to watch. We absorbed action, drama, foreign, comedy, even horror films.

So, as home theater technology matured, I followed it closely. My dream was to one day have my own “home theater” where I could recreate some of the childhood magic which now lived on as nostalgia in my memory.

My new home on the Jersey Shore brings me one step closer to realizing that dream. Though my living room isn’t quite a home theater, it serves my purposes; I can watch the television and movies I enjoy in the highest resolution available, with excellent surround sound.

Wanting to share that enjoyment with those around me, I sometimes forget that not everyone is as passionate about the movies as me. I announced that I was setting aside Monday nights for the purpose of screening movies for friends. To me, this was a chance to experience new films and relive the magic of classic ones we all loved. To others, it may have just been a chance to socialize.

I’m aware that moving pictures and sound are, for some people, just a way to fill the silence. They are background noise; an unimportant distraction which deserves only peripheral attention. These are the people who occupy themselves with texting, eating, or talking during a movie. They may see the story unfold before them, and fill in the details through inference, but they miss the magic. They don’t appreciate the details which make movies special.

(Feel free to skip this paragraph if you don’t want to read examples)In the original “Superman” movie, there’s a moment when Clark Kent is about to change into his iconic reds and blues. He pauses for a split second to look at a modern payphone without a phone booth surrounding it, and then speeds off to change elsewhere. His facial expression in that moment is both a joke and homage to the comic book origins of the hero. Yet it will usually be lost on those who don’t really devote all their attention to the movie. These people see Indiana Jones’ grand escape from the Nazis, but miss the little wink before it which tells us that hope is not lost. The subtleness is lost on them, so a truly great movie is “okay” or “pretty good” in their view.

To me, this attitude is tantamount to heresy because I’ve worked in the entertainment industry and know what it is to create something for people’s viewing. You want ever second, every nuance, to be appreciated. This is why theaters are dark; to eliminate every possible distraction. The subtle details in a movie are almost more important than the over-arching narrative. So it drives me nuts when I sit with people who I know are missing the bits and pieces which elevate a film to greatness.

Last night, the groups who attended my first official “movie night” decided to watch a movie from the 80’s which they all know and love; “The Princess Bride.” Their main reason for choosing this film was to share it with one friend who had never seen it before. Unfortunately, they also decided to make friendship bracelets (none for me, btw) while the movie was on. This, in addition to the snacks, drinks, and talking, diverted enough attention from the movie that the person watching it for the first time missed much of the dialog and seemed oblivious to the sight gags. Predictably, she said that she didn’t see what the big deal was, and I agreed. She didn’t see. She couldn’t see. She was busy with other things.

So in my book, I write the experience off as a disaster. Not because someone deems movies less important than I. Not, because they refused to adhere to my admittedly obsessive take on proper movie viewing etiquette. Not even because someone might have different tastes than I. It was a disaster because a wonderful, charming, funny, and well made film has been forever lost to this person. I know that she will never sit through it again, and I feel responsible for that. Our misguided attempt to show off something we enjoyed failed, because the movie never had a chance of making a good first impression under those circumstances.

In the future, maybe it’s best not to show “classics” but instead to focus on new films nobody has seen before. That way, expectations are lower. It might also help to invite people who love movies as much as me, so I don’t feel like the odd man out for my passion on the subject.

There’s a special kind of crazy required to don a costume when it isn’t Halloween. It’s the sort of crazy of which this world needs more. Whether you’re generally a dramatic personality, have a theatrical inclination, or just enjoy acting silly, it takes that extra bit of gumption to take your act public. So when such folks conspire to meet and party together, there’s a certain magic about it.

This past weekend, I attended PirateCon, a gathering of folks who choose to celebrate “International Talk Like a Pirate Day” by dressing as said swashbucklers. We were organized by an unknown party and proceeded to make our party known throughout much of lower Manhattan. If I had to guess, there were something like two hundred participants; Wonderful, creative people who were determined to have fun in the carefree tradition of legendary buccaneers.

I was lucky enough to arrive in time to watch the group grow from a handful of enthusiastic but skittish members, to a mass of energetic pirate party people. Our crew marched from one location to the next, amusing tourists and New Yorkers alike with our blatant disregard for the mundane. We cheered and sang and chanted along the way. Pirate colors brightened the bustling crowds at The High Line, Washington Square Park, and the South Street Seaport.

Everyone was friendly and kind to each other, though most were meeting for the first time. As an example, someone found my digital camera and returned it to me after seeing my photos on it. We pirates shared drinks, stories, snacks, and laughs together.

My best friend and I had arrived by boat in true pirate fashion, and left the same way. In between those two boat trips, we got to participate in a truly amazing event. Not for its turnout, or the amount of alcohol consumed; It was amazing for what it represents in us, as people.

As silly as it may be for grown people to pretend they are pirates. It’s even sillier for us to forget about such things as dressing up, pretending, and keeping our minds open to imaginative play. The British, who tend to use the English language more elegantly than we Americans, don’t call what we were wearing “costumes.” In England, people attend “fancy dress” parties. This doesn’t imply that the behavior is strange or abnormal, but simply that a bit more care has gone into deciding what will be worn. The extraordinary clothing allows us to more freely behave in a way that may be outside of our everyday persona.

It amused me when bystanders on the street asked, “Why are you dressed that way?” The implication behind that question was that there must be a good explanation for why a large group of people have decided to shun conventional attire and take to the streets as a band of pirates. The natural reply of course, was to ask them why they were dressed as they had been. In my perfect world explanations for such things would never be needed. When in doubt, everyone should just assume that the answer to such questions would be, “Because we can, and it’s fun.”

The universe strives to maintain balance. We humans do too. It’s one of those things that you don’t necessarily need to believe in. It just is. Sometimes, we push boundaries and try to stretch our capabilities. This may result in a loss of balance which can be slight or incredibly jarring. It can also help to improve our balancing skills, which is why we do it.

As a kid, I realized I was really talented at keeping myself balanced…at least physically. (I attributed my proficiency to my large feet.) My friends and I would play games which involved balance. I can remember crossing fallen trees which bridged the gap carved by a river through local woods. I was only about nine years old at the time. Later, in Junior high school, we chased each other on elevated wooden fences which surrounded a sandbox. We tried to push each other off without falling off ourselves. In my late teens, we would go to a playground well after dark and master jumping between the highest point of the jungle gyms, knowing a slip would likely result in broken bones.

These days, I’m not nearly as interested in risking injury, yet I’m still drawn to activities which require balance. I’ve been riding skateboards since my pre-teen years. One of my first was a simple piece of wood sanded down in my father’s garage and attached to roller skate wheels. He was proud of the stuff he built for me and I didn’t appreciate any of it nearly as much as I should have at the time. Still, I did a lot of skateboarding.

I’ve rolled around on various boards for the better part of the last thirty years. Yet I was never really big on skateboarding tricks. I learned a few simple techniques for moving and balancing on a board from a book I got in my school library. That was all I needed at the time.

Since then, skateboard enthusiasts have learned how to jump, spin, and fly on their boards. Communities are building skate parks for their residents and the culture has largely been embraced by the mainstream thanks to iconic figures like Tony Hawk. Meanwhile, I’m still rolling around from point A to B without much fanfare.

Lately, since I live in a skateboarder friendly community, I’ve decided to up my game and learn some new tricks. I know what they say about “old dogs” and thank my lucky stars that I am not a dog. So I’ve been regularly visiting the skate parks with my “old school” board in hand. I try to keep up with the young kids and stretch my boundaries; to improve my balance.

The net result so far has been largely positive. Sure, I’ve sustained some scrapes and bruises, but I’ve also improved. I’ve felt the exhilaration of rolling down ramps and around bowls. I’ve achieved frightening milestones like dropping into a half-pipe. My craving for outdoor activity and exercise has also improved. As I approach my 40’s, I feel that I am accomplishing things I was remiss in not achieving sooner. I’m catching up and checking off that “to do” list of activities I’ve always wanted to try.

In fact, my life over the last year in Jersey has been defined by firsts and milestones. I’ve explored new places, tried new things, boldly undertaken new projects, and tasted new thrills. All this has made me tremendously happy and fulfilled. Every day, there’s at least one moment in which I reflect on how well things are going and smile.

So it’s no wonder that the universal balance tries to swing me in the negative direction from time to time. I expect and understand it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to get past.

Over the last two months, the car I drive has been involved in not one, but THREE traffic accidents. None of these were our fault. The first one happened when my wife was side-swiped by a van which didn’t see her in his blind spot while exiting a toll plaza. The second was when an anxious woman with a brand new car miscalculated her trajectory and clipped my rear fender while exiting her parking space behind me. The third time happened just hours ago. A man who didn’t see me coming down the street rolled through a stop sign and drove out in front of me. Even after stomping on the breaks, I managed to make contact with his rear quarter panel. It was just enough to rip off my front license plate and scratch up my front bumper.

I feel like these small annoyances are not some sort of Karmic payback for doing something bad. Since they are so relatively minor, they seem more like the price of extreme happiness. It’s like I’m being reminded that there is some not-so-good stuff that comes along with the good, and that one without the other will never sustain balance.

My optimism is not swayed. I continue to enjoy my life knowing that it is finite. I remain determined to do all those things I’ve always wanted to. I look eagerly for new opportunities and experiences. I anticipate exciting adventures ahead as I continue to try and improve my balance.

As I sit here composing this blog on my iPhone, I can’t help but think how aggravated I must be. After all, I have a strong dislike of the virtual keyboard and its many inherent typos which is as strong as morning breath after a late night sushi binge. What gets me so worked up? Well, I dislike being talked down to. It triggers all the aggression pent up in my youth when teachers and students alike assumed my inferiority simply because I was a foreigner. I worked hard and often to show them just how wrong they were. Despite a language barrier, math and English were my best subjects; consistently better in fact, when compared with American born students.

So it’s no wonder that I prefer to this day, to express myself with the written word. It also explains my predilection to technology which has math as its basis.

Imagine my surprise when I was told today to absolutely never express my opinions or dissatisfaction in text form again. I was call childish, passive/aggressive and wasteful of time, simply because I sent a quick email explaining that i didn’t think something was handled properly. It was disheartening to say the least.

The proclamation came from a coworker with whom I considered myself to be in a partnership. We share a casual friendship, common interests, and a nice rapport. The problem comes when we differ in our approach to business. He seems to believe that delegating tasks to those who aren’t sure of how to perform them is a good way of teaching them. I don’t necessarily disagree, but my view is that the quickest possible resolution of a client’s issue should be the primary concern. Teaching should come secondary. Because if this slight difference in philosophy, I’ve encountered frustration a number of times while trying to take care of unforeseen problems. I call for help, but instead of getting it, I’m sent to various Internet resources to figure it out. Meanwhile, the client sits in limbo waiting to get the issue resolved while I’m “learning” how it should be handled.

At the end of the day, I go home frustrated knowing that the client’s issue hasn’t been resolved. Someone who gets a large chunk of my hourly rate hasn’t necessarily helped me get any closer to the resolution. Meanwhile, any delay in fixing an issue is perceived as my own personal failure and not the fault of a group.

I understand the limitations of text based communications all too well. I also appreciate the constraints of professional approaches to problem solving and time management. What I don’t get is the hostility with which my email was met. It seems that a shouting phone call to me which stopped just short of threatening me is okay. Yet a couple of sentences saying “no fair” from me are somehow crossing the line?

It occurs to me that the only rational reason for a person not wanting emailed correspondence during times of disagreement is to cover their own ass by not leaving a written record of possible problems. That may be another point where we disagree because my own business has documented everything discussed between two parties so as to dispel any possibility for miscommunication. I like written records. They make the world feel more organized.

How someone can misconstrue this as an affront, I have no idea. What I do know, is that I provide excellent service to my clients. I try to make them happy no matter how silly their requests may be. I also try to work out any possible problems so that they may have a great experience using technology. If I’m guilty of anything, it’s caring too much about my work. I take it personally and as a result may come out swinging when my efforts are belittled by people who haven’t seen the full scope of what I provide.

So now that some hours have passed on the clock and some drinks have passed my esophagus, I’m over the resentment and hostility. I know tomorrow will be another day to shine and improve upon what I’ve already accomplished. The best I can do is hope that the effort isn’t without recognition. I also hold out for the day when “team work” and “partnership” are words used to describe the folks involved with my projects. That they aren’t just empty gestures but actual guiding principles of the people with whom I associate.

It should be noted, that this post has been made quite vague with the specific intent of hiding the identities of anyone involved. If you think you know who I am talking about, then there’s a high probability that you are wrong. As an independent contractor and small business owner, I partner with many different people on a regular basis. So I’m venting here, but not about anyone specifically. So take that into consideration when reading this.

Thanks for your attention…

For the last few days I’ve been ruminating on the death of Michael Jackson. I’m not optimistic enough to believe that there’s a lesson to be learned from everything life throws at us. I also don’t usually consider the deaths of celebrities to be a big deal. However, the media hype has me thinking that there’s something here. It isn’t what the press is telling you, but it’s definitely something.

The media are calling the death of Michael Jackson a great loss for the entertainment industry. The truth is Jackson hasn’t been relevant for well over a decade. If not for his bizarre behavior, money troubles, and run-ins with the law, Michael would be a fading memory; a curious museum piece which recalls the glory of the 1980’s.

On the one hand, it makes me sad to know that the guy who would entertain me by singing and dancing on the TV screen, has died. I still enjoy the music he made in the 80’s. Like Patrick Swayze, Jackson is a sort of avatar representing my youth. Thinking about him withering and dying is depressing.

On the other hand, now that he’s dead, I sort of wish he had died at the height of his fame, around the time that “Black or White” came out. Had he burned out fast and left us before having a chance to mess up his legacy with awkward marriages, child molestation allegations, baby dangling, and countless plastic surgeries, I feel like I would have missed him more.

It’s true that Michael Jackson has brought joy to millions. His music, videos, and performances, have entertained the masses and infused popular culture with his own brand of style and excitement. To call him a musical prodigy is not an exaggeration. From a very early age, it was clear that he was born to entertain. I’m grateful for his contribution to my musical repertoire.

The question is; How much do his achievements in entertainment offset anything we might hold against him? I don’t really have an answer. I know there are many who overlook Jackson’s personal life. They say he was never convicted of anything, and that’s true. He did settle out of court for tens of millions of dollars with more than one family of accusers though. To me, that’s almost an admission of guilt. If you look at his music, he’s trying to warn people. He says, “I’m Bad” and “Dangerous” and called himself a “Smooth Criminal.” So it doesn’t really matter how many songs he sang or how well he danced. If he sexually abused children, there is no redemption or forgiveness for him in my eyes.

Many have talked about how the Jackson family as a whole may be responsible for how Michael turned out; That Joe Jackson’s abusive parenting and Michael’s lack of a real childhood predestined an entertaining person for horrible private behavior. If that’s true, then it also says something very disturbing: We may never see another entertainer like Michael Jackson because society today wouldn’t tolerate such abusive parents.

Even sadder; Michael Jackson is probably the most famous abused child in the history of children. He grew up knowing that his father’s verbal and physical abuses were accepted by the masses. It was treated like a necessary evil which produced greatness. So people looked the other way. Those around the Jackson family allowed the abuse. Perhaps in some twisted way Michael thought that he was helping the children he abused in much the same way as his father helped him to become a world famous entertainer? We will never know his reasons for making the choices he did.

All we know for a fact is that Michael Jackson was the king of pop. He was responsible for some of the most memorable songs and videos of the last century. He broke boundaries and created cultural ripples which were felt all around the world. We know he entertained us. He made us laugh and cry. Michael was damaged yet brilliant. He will be missed by many. These things are fact, everything else is just speculation.

After lots of research and some soul searching, I’m ready to plunge into the tepid pool that is the Apple products userbase. Below is my explanation (or rationalization) for why I’ve waited so long and what has brought me to the conclusion that now is the right time.

Let me be blunt: I don’t like Apple as a company. I’ve been at least aware of them since they released their first Macintosh computers decades ago. As I became more tech-savvy and got to use them, I realized that Macs were an example of everything that was wrong with consumer electronics. Here were these little boxes that promised an alternative way of doing things; a different look and feel. They offered less functionality, proprietary hardware, and a distinct lack of compatibility with third parties, wrapped in a pretty package. You paid more money for less power, but got to feel like you were part of an exclusive club of “alternative thinkers.” It was all the epitome of “form over function” and I hated it. (continue reading…)