My Grandfather Slept with a Cow

Literally. This morning at Christmas brunch I was telling my family how I almost froze to death on Christmas Eve because my sister and brother-in-law forgot to heat the guest room. I was on an air mattress, on a very cold wooden floor, the air inside the mattress became quite cold in the middle of the night and I awoke around 3 a.m. freezing my balls off. Turns out, the heater is on some kind of a timer and shuts off in the "play room" during the night and they aren't used to having guests in there. So I wake up and can almost see my breath. I then put on my winter coat and tried to go back to sleep, but it wasn't happening. Then I decided to go to the basement and look for a space heater, which to my surprise just happened to be sitting out in the open. "That was easy," I thought. I scurried back upstairs thinking that if I made noise it didn't matter because my little neices would just think it was Santa and I was helping to perpetuate the myth, which is even more necessary since my sister's "fire place" has no chimney. After moving any flammables away from the air mattress and securing an extension chord, I settled back into bed quite proud of myself for problem-solving so efficiently in the middle of the night. I got back under the covers and turned on the space heater....

nothing.

Ok, maybe the outlet is hooked up to the lightswitch. That must be it. Nope. Maybe the outlet doesn't work. Nope. The fucking space heater was broken. Who leaves a broken space heater out in the open waiting to be taken by some desperate freezing relative in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve?! FUCK!

I decided to go out and sleep in the living room, where there was heat, but not much. So now I'm all scrunched up on the couch, in my winter coat trying to fall back asleep. A couple short hours later, my brother-in-law wakes me up and asks if I want to go up to the neices room because they're awake now and all fired up to open their presents. So I changed beds for a third time, although this was the first time I'd actually be in a real bed. I actually slept for a solid two hours before my mom woke me up for good.

After telling this exciting story over bagels, bad omelettes and good coffee with whiskey, my grampa took me down memory lane. I felt a bit silly when he was done, and sillier because of said whiskey. In World War II, he was forced to sleep in many strange places, not limited to, but including a pile of gas cans, hay stacks, mud, and with a cow. Hell, the cow kept him warm, didn't snore or wake up, and as my dad pointed out - free milk in the morning. I may date a cow one of these days.

As for the rest of Christmas, it was actually more pleasant than I thought. Or perhaps I was just mentally prepared because I vented all my frustrations in my last blog entry. My sister and I got along great, mostly because my new step-gramma is the biggest bitch ever and I wound up looking like a saint in comparison. My sister was completely stressed out and working her ass off to host this grand gala. She didn't seem to have any fun and was constantly worrying about this or that. I felt bad for her. I don't ever want to be like that when I have a family of my own. The holidays should be a celebration not a chore. Plus, she volunteered for this. She was the one that wanted to move Christmas to her house.

Anyway, as I was leaving her house tonight I read the calendar on her kitchen wall. There was something written in on almost every day of the month. It really says a lot about her in this stage of her boring, stressful, pregnant life. While my calendar has hand-scribbled notes such as "Keller" or "Higher Ground Grand Opening" or "New Year's in Vegas," hers says things like "Walgreens" or "book club." Poor Allison: all grown up and doesn't know how to have fun.

I realized I really do love her though. I just wish she did more for herself. She needs to smoke a joint and unwind. I guess the pregnancy thing sort of rules that out, but you get the idea.

And my mom got me an Ipod. She rules.

not the brightest tool in the shed

[Jeff enters the room sipping a large glass of Merlot]

Susan: Did you try the red wine or the white?

[Jeff tries not to call Susan an idiot to her face and simply points to the glass]

Susan: Red wine makes me very warm and tired and white wine makes me dance my ass off.

Jeff: So does Zinfadel make you sleep walk?

Susan: [confused] Are you being ironic?

No longer just "that guy"

A funny thing is happening here at the workplace today. Suddenly everyone knows me. I no longer get the polite nod and the awkward "how are you," which is really a polite way of saying "who the hell are you?" Because, honestly, they don't care how I am. They don't even wait for my answer. They're already past me on the way to the copy machine. But today, that's all changed and let me explain how this phenomenon occured. Last night was my first official company function outside of the office, the annual holiday party. Out of the hundred or so employees that were there, I was the one chosen to play DJ for the entertainment portion of the evening - a set by a mildly amusing comdian/magician. It was only about a 15 minute committment, but hey, why did I have to work in the middle of this office partay? And, no advance warning? What's up with that. I had a date and everything. Nonetheless, halfway through my salad, my boss says, "Oh Jeff, we need you to operate the CD player. We figured you'd be perfect for it." Right, cuz no one else in the company, including the entire IT team, knows how to operate a 5-disc Sony. Oh and because I'm a lighting guy for a rock band, I must know how to run a CD player. What would they do without me? The comedian/hick/magician/chick worked me into her act saying things like "hit it Jeff" or "Ok Jeff" or "let's give it up for Jeff." In addition to this verbal abuse, I was also positioned on the side of the stage, in plain view of the entire audience.

Today, people are not only waiting for my response to "how *ARE* you?" but they are saying things like "Hey, nice job last night" or "Thanks for all your help" or "Did you have fun last night?"

So, there you have it. Now I'm known as "Jeff" instead of "that new guy." And, in the time that it's taken me to write this, three or four co-workers have no doubt passed by, looked over my shoulder and thought "Hey that's Jeff from the thing last night. What a slacker he is."

blah, blah blog

What an utterly uneventful day it has been thus far. The highlights have been A) running B) an early morning call from a friend and C) hearing "Against the Wind" on the radio. That's it. Although, for some reason, it's been a good day. How does that happen? Has my life become that boring? For the last six years, I've had the privilege of working from home, sitting in my pajamas all day and writing about the music I love. I would rise around 11:20 a.m. and have my first cup of coffee by noon or one depending on which Saturday Night Live rerun I decided to watch. In the later years, Comedy Central bumped SNL for Conan, so my routine changed slightly, but I digress. My point is, I always bragged about the fact that I wasn't part of the rat race. No traffic. No weather. No alarm clock. Hell, in the cold months, sometimes I wouldn't leave the house until Wednesday. But the one thing I missed was human interaction. So now, I'm finally doing the 9 - 5 thing. My alarm goes off at 7:30. I watch the Today Show. I listen to Stern on the way to work. I arrive at the office and say things like "Morning Caroll, how are you?" or "Hi Michelle, how's it going?" or "Hey Marc, how's the baby?" I'm Mr. Joe America. I've become the antithesis of my former self. Although the whole rock star lifestyle I lead sporadically sort of saves me and my brain from going insane.

I just don't understand how everyone else does it day after day after day for their entire lives. No wonder Prozac and the like are such popular drugs. Just what in the hell do people look forward to? Golf? Book club? How do they go to work every day over and over and over again? I just don't get it.

Hey look, I've been up for almost 12 hours and haven't had a moment to myself until right now.

I wish I was filthy rich. Like I've always said, money may not buy happiness, but if you're already happy, it sure is nice to have.

Cold vs. Brisk

We have officially segued into winter. I've declared it. Just minutes ago I performed the physically awkward task of taking out the air conditioner from my bedroom window. It's such a symbolic gesture and each year it occurs later and later in the year. I believe this time I've set an all time record. For some reason, I'm quite neurotic, thus my obsession with air conditioners in the first place. So my annual AC removal or installation becomes this time for reflection, and I'm not referring to the extra window pane that is revealed after the project is complete. Rather, this 5-minute *event* has turned into my own little holiday during which I recall how much my life has changed since the last time I performed said task. I also look ahead to the spring and wonder just how different my life will be the next time I waddle around with that heavy metal box with the sharp edges.

Because I say so, it is now winter in my world and I hate winter. I do quite enjoy the build up to the holidays, because let's face it, it is a cheery time and I'm a light guy, so you have to respect all of the increased electric bills and cheap Martha Stewart decorations. Plus, there are a few great Christmas songs out there and they really only get a month or so of airtime a year. Point is, after the best holiday ever, we are faced with awful champagne hangovers and a melancholy U2 song that I don't fully agree with. A lot changes on New Year's Day. The holidays are over, the gym is overcrowded with a bunch of fat people who won't last a month and there is generally nothing to look forward to until April. Even then, it could snow. This year, I'll be in Vegas for New Years, so maybe I'll get married or something. Oh the irony.

So, with no fear of sounding like a pessimist, I say enjoy the only fun part of winter while you can.

And thank god there is no hockey this year. What a joke that sport is.

Is This Thing On?

It's occured to me as of late that I miss writing. When it was my profession, it became a source of stress, with every word over-analyzed to the point where it no longer felt creative. And, for some reason, whenever I get paid to do something, it becomes "work" and thus, a source of procrastination (although this hasn't happened with concert lighting, perhaps because it's such a Zen-like artform and is so IN THE MOMENT that procrastinating simply isn't possible, although if it is, I'm sure I'll discover how soon). Anyway, lately my emails have been getting longer and less robotic and I'm beginning to enjoy writing again. I've also been trying to rediscover my identity in the last few months, as pretty much everything in my life has changed. Hell, even the Red Sox won the world series.

After four months or so of soul searching, I've emerged on top, ready for the next phase of my life. I had a quasi-epiphany today, but it's so trite that it's almost not worth repeating. Here goes though: without change, you stop learning about yourself; you stop challenging yourself. It's always been very hard for me to deal with change as I'm traditionally a creature of habit (thanks dad), but lately I've been realizing that it really doesn't take much to start new habits. Suddenly I have 2 new jobs, a new collection of favorite CDs, I'm going to the gym again every night and I'm making new friends. As much as I was clinging to my "perfect life" from a year ago, that was 2003. It's time for the next chapter.

How cliche is that?