oooohhhh foamy!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Music!! - Avenged Sevenfold drummer's autopsy inconclusive CBC News
It drives me CRAZY that people leap to conclusions without solid evidence.
So read further...MAYBE there was a complication in the surgery Jimmy recently had? We don't know yet, but all those who jump the gun and say drugs, and say this artist is a waste of space, You ought listen to one of their tunes, and look up the meaning of Avenged Sevenfold.
CBC News - Music - Avenged Sevenfold drummer's autopsy inconclusive
So read further...MAYBE there was a complication in the surgery Jimmy recently had? We don't know yet, but all those who jump the gun and say drugs, and say this artist is a waste of space, You ought listen to one of their tunes, and look up the meaning of Avenged Sevenfold.
CBC News - Music - Avenged Sevenfold drummer's autopsy inconclusive
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Music!! - Avenged Sevenfold drummer dies at 28 - CBC News
James Owen Sullivan, the drummer with California band Avenged Sevenfold, was found dead on Monday, according to police. He was 28.
Sullivan was found "unresponsive" in his Huntington Beach home, according to Orange County deputy coroner Mitchell Sigal.
An autopsy has been scheduled to determine cause of death.
Sullivan was found "unresponsive" in his Huntington Beach home, according to Orange County deputy coroner Mitchell Sigal.
An autopsy has been scheduled to determine cause of death.
Click here for the full story:
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Lover's Leap - Martha Beck
Lover's Leap
Throw yourself into intimacy. Go ahead, take a leap on love.
Psychologists tell us we're born afraid of just two things. The first is loud noises. Do you recall the second? Most people guess "abandonment" or "starvation," but neonatal dread was simpler than that: It was the fear of falling. Today we all have a much richer array of consternations, but I'll bet falling is still on your list. Why give up the prudent concern that brought your whole genetic line into the world clutching anything your tiny fists could grab? Fear of falling is your birthright! Perhaps that's why most of us, at least some of the time (and some of us most of the time), are frightened by another deeply primal experience: intimacy. Allowing yourself to become emotionally close is the psychological equivalent of skidding off a cliff; hence the expression "falling in love."
This gauzy phrase usually describes a sexual connection. But love has infinite variations that can swallow the floor from under your feet at any moment. You're securely installed in a relationship, marching through life, keeping your nasal hairs decently trimmed. Then boom! You hear a song and know that the composer has seen into your soul. Or you wake up, bleary with jet lag, in a city you've never seen before and feel you've come home. Or the wretched little mess of a kitten you just saved from drowning begins to purr in your arms. Suddenly—too late—you realize that your heart has opened like a trapdoor, and you're tumbling into a deep, sweet abyss, thinking, God, this is wonderful! God, this is terrible!The next time this happens, here's a nice, dry, scientific fact to dig your toes into: The sensation you're feeling is probably associated with decreased activity in the brain region that senses our bodies' location in the physical world. When this zone goes quiet, the boundary between "self" and "not self" disappears. It isn't just that we feel close to the object of our affection; perceiving ourselves as separate isn't an option. Some being that was Other now matters to us as much as we matter to ourselves. Yet we have no control over either the love or the beloved. The horror! The horror! We focus attention on stories about people, from Othello and Huckleberry Finn to the lusty physicians on Grey's Anatomy, who trip into versions of intimacy (passion, friendship, parental protectiveness) they can neither escape nor manage. These stories teach us why we both fear and long for intimacy, and why our ways of dealing with it are usually misguided. Two of these methods are so common, they're worth a warning here.
Bad Idea #1: Guard Your Heart
There's an old folktale about a giant who removes his own heart, locks it in a series of metal boxes, and buries the whole conglomeration. Thereafter, his enemies can stab or shoot him, but never fatally. Of course, he also loses the benefits of having a heart, such as happiness. The giant sits around like Mrs. Lincoln grimly trying to enjoy the play, until he's so miserable he digs up his heart and stabs it himself. This grisly parable reminds us that refusing to love is emotional suicide. Yet many of us fight like giants to guard ourselves from intimacy, boxing up our hearts in steel-hard false beliefs. "I'm unlovable" is one such lockbox. "Everyone wants to exploit me" is another. Then there's "I shouldn't feel that" and "I have to follow the rules," etc. Whatever your own heart-coffins may be, notice that they're ruining your happiness, not preserving it. As poet Mary Oliver puts it, Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?… For how long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters, caution and prudence? Fall in! Fall in!If you've buried your heart to keep it from hurting, you're hurting. You're also in dire danger of using…
Bad Idea #2: Control Your Beloved
"If you don't love me, I'll kill myself. If you stop loving me, I'll kill you." Some people believe such statements are expressions of true intimacy. Actually, they're weapons of control, which destroy real connection faster than you can say "restraining order." Though few of us are this radically controlling, we often use myriad forms of manipulation and coercion. We can say, "Sure, whatever makes you happy," in a tone that turns this innocuous phrase into a vicious blow. To the extent that we try to make anyone do, feel, or think anything—whether our weapon is people-pleasing, sarcasm, or a machete—we trade intimacy for microterrorism. So, if neither control nor avoidance works, what does?
Good Idea #1: Be Willing
In The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams reveals the secret of flying. Just launch yourself toward the ground, and miss. "All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt…if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard." This is the best advice I know for coping with fear of intimacy. Avoidance and control can't keep our hearts from falling, or cushion the landing. Why not try throwing yourself forward, being willing not to mind that it's going to hurt? Please note: "Being willing not to mind" isn't the same as genuinely not minding. You'll mind the risks of intimacy—count on it. Be willing anyway. How? Simply allow your feelings—all of them—into full consciousness. Articulate your emotions. Write about them in a journal, tell them to a friend, confess them to your priest, therapist, cab driver. Feel the full extent of your love, your thirst, your passion, without holding back or grasping at anything or anyone (especially not the object of your affection). The next suggestion will show you how.
Good Idea #2: Go "Woo-hoo"
Author Melody Beattie took up skydiving and was scared senseless. Another diver told her, "When you get to the door and jump, say 'Woo-hoo!' You can't have a bad time if you do." This phrase works as well when you're falling emotionally as when you're falling physically. When fear hits, when you want to grasp or hide, shout "Woo-hoo!" instead. While there is never—not ever—a sure foundation beneath our feet, the willingness to celebrate what we really feel can turn falling into flying. You don't need an airplane to practice woo-hoo skills. For instance: I'm writing these words at 2:15 in the morning, because writing, like other intimate pursuits, often occurs at night. As I type each word, I come to care about how it will be read—about you, there, reading it. Caring is scaring. It makes me want to stop right now, or spend years composing something flawlessly literate. Unfortunately, my deadline was yesterday, and Shakespeare I ain't, so…woo-hoo! Now it's 2:20 a.m. My writing partner, a fat, aged beagle named Cookie, snores contentedly at my feet. I'm revisited by a worry that was born the day I fell in love with his puppy self: the dread of the moment that snuffly breathing stops. This is my cue to throw myself forward, drop deeper into my affection for this ridiculous dog. Tomorrow I will let Cookie teach me to roll in the grass, to howl in ecstasy at the sight of good food. Of any food, actually. Woo-hoo! It's 2:30 a.m. Upstairs, my son, Adam, is dreaming dreams I'll never quite understand, because his brain is different from mine. Shortly before his birth, I learned that he has Down syndrome, which put mothering him well above skydiving in my Book of Fears. I yelled a lot during Adam's birth. Eighteen years later, I'm still yelling "Woo-hoo!" And so far, the only consequence of that particular plunge is love. Which takes me to my final point.
In Preparation for Landing
What I really panic about nowadays isn't falling; it's landing. But even that concern is fading, because I've realized there are only two possible landings for someone who embraces intimacy, and both are beautiful. The first possibility is that your beloved will love you back. Then you won't land; you'll just fall deeper into intimacy, together. This is how bald eagles prepare to mate—by locking talons and free-falling like rocks—which is deeply insane and makes me proud to call the eagle my country's national bird. The other possibility is that you'll throw yourself forward, yell "Woo-hoo!," and smash into rejection. Will it hurt? Indescribably. But if you still refuse to bury your broken heart, or force someone to "fix" it—if you just experience the crash landing in all its gory glory, you'll create a miracle. A Jewish friend told me this story: A man asks his rabbi, "Why does God write the law on our hearts? Why not in our hearts? It's the inside of my heart that needs God." The rabbi answered, "God never forces anything into a human heart. He writes the word on our hearts so that when our hearts break, God falls in." Whatever you hold sacred, you'll find that an unguarded broken heart is the ideal instrument for absorbing it. If you fall into intimacy without resistance, despite your alarm, either you will fall into love, which is exquisite, or love will fall into you, which is more exquisite still. Do it enough, and you may just lose your fear of falling. You'll get better at missing the ground, at keeping a crushed heart open so that love can find all the broken pieces. And the next time you feel that vertiginous sensation of the floor disappearing, even as your reflexes tell you to duck and grab, you'll hear an even deeper instinct saying, Fall in! Fall in!
Throw yourself into intimacy. Go ahead, take a leap on love.
Psychologists tell us we're born afraid of just two things. The first is loud noises. Do you recall the second? Most people guess "abandonment" or "starvation," but neonatal dread was simpler than that: It was the fear of falling. Today we all have a much richer array of consternations, but I'll bet falling is still on your list. Why give up the prudent concern that brought your whole genetic line into the world clutching anything your tiny fists could grab? Fear of falling is your birthright! Perhaps that's why most of us, at least some of the time (and some of us most of the time), are frightened by another deeply primal experience: intimacy. Allowing yourself to become emotionally close is the psychological equivalent of skidding off a cliff; hence the expression "falling in love."
This gauzy phrase usually describes a sexual connection. But love has infinite variations that can swallow the floor from under your feet at any moment. You're securely installed in a relationship, marching through life, keeping your nasal hairs decently trimmed. Then boom! You hear a song and know that the composer has seen into your soul. Or you wake up, bleary with jet lag, in a city you've never seen before and feel you've come home. Or the wretched little mess of a kitten you just saved from drowning begins to purr in your arms. Suddenly—too late—you realize that your heart has opened like a trapdoor, and you're tumbling into a deep, sweet abyss, thinking, God, this is wonderful! God, this is terrible!The next time this happens, here's a nice, dry, scientific fact to dig your toes into: The sensation you're feeling is probably associated with decreased activity in the brain region that senses our bodies' location in the physical world. When this zone goes quiet, the boundary between "self" and "not self" disappears. It isn't just that we feel close to the object of our affection; perceiving ourselves as separate isn't an option. Some being that was Other now matters to us as much as we matter to ourselves. Yet we have no control over either the love or the beloved. The horror! The horror! We focus attention on stories about people, from Othello and Huckleberry Finn to the lusty physicians on Grey's Anatomy, who trip into versions of intimacy (passion, friendship, parental protectiveness) they can neither escape nor manage. These stories teach us why we both fear and long for intimacy, and why our ways of dealing with it are usually misguided. Two of these methods are so common, they're worth a warning here.
Bad Idea #1: Guard Your Heart
There's an old folktale about a giant who removes his own heart, locks it in a series of metal boxes, and buries the whole conglomeration. Thereafter, his enemies can stab or shoot him, but never fatally. Of course, he also loses the benefits of having a heart, such as happiness. The giant sits around like Mrs. Lincoln grimly trying to enjoy the play, until he's so miserable he digs up his heart and stabs it himself. This grisly parable reminds us that refusing to love is emotional suicide. Yet many of us fight like giants to guard ourselves from intimacy, boxing up our hearts in steel-hard false beliefs. "I'm unlovable" is one such lockbox. "Everyone wants to exploit me" is another. Then there's "I shouldn't feel that" and "I have to follow the rules," etc. Whatever your own heart-coffins may be, notice that they're ruining your happiness, not preserving it. As poet Mary Oliver puts it, Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?… For how long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters, caution and prudence? Fall in! Fall in!If you've buried your heart to keep it from hurting, you're hurting. You're also in dire danger of using…
Bad Idea #2: Control Your Beloved
"If you don't love me, I'll kill myself. If you stop loving me, I'll kill you." Some people believe such statements are expressions of true intimacy. Actually, they're weapons of control, which destroy real connection faster than you can say "restraining order." Though few of us are this radically controlling, we often use myriad forms of manipulation and coercion. We can say, "Sure, whatever makes you happy," in a tone that turns this innocuous phrase into a vicious blow. To the extent that we try to make anyone do, feel, or think anything—whether our weapon is people-pleasing, sarcasm, or a machete—we trade intimacy for microterrorism. So, if neither control nor avoidance works, what does?
Good Idea #1: Be Willing
In The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams reveals the secret of flying. Just launch yourself toward the ground, and miss. "All it requires is simply the ability to throw yourself forward with all your weight, and the willingness not to mind that it's going to hurt…if you fail to miss the ground. Most people fail to miss the ground, and if they are really trying properly, the likelihood is that they will fail to miss it fairly hard." This is the best advice I know for coping with fear of intimacy. Avoidance and control can't keep our hearts from falling, or cushion the landing. Why not try throwing yourself forward, being willing not to mind that it's going to hurt? Please note: "Being willing not to mind" isn't the same as genuinely not minding. You'll mind the risks of intimacy—count on it. Be willing anyway. How? Simply allow your feelings—all of them—into full consciousness. Articulate your emotions. Write about them in a journal, tell them to a friend, confess them to your priest, therapist, cab driver. Feel the full extent of your love, your thirst, your passion, without holding back or grasping at anything or anyone (especially not the object of your affection). The next suggestion will show you how.
Good Idea #2: Go "Woo-hoo"
Author Melody Beattie took up skydiving and was scared senseless. Another diver told her, "When you get to the door and jump, say 'Woo-hoo!' You can't have a bad time if you do." This phrase works as well when you're falling emotionally as when you're falling physically. When fear hits, when you want to grasp or hide, shout "Woo-hoo!" instead. While there is never—not ever—a sure foundation beneath our feet, the willingness to celebrate what we really feel can turn falling into flying. You don't need an airplane to practice woo-hoo skills. For instance: I'm writing these words at 2:15 in the morning, because writing, like other intimate pursuits, often occurs at night. As I type each word, I come to care about how it will be read—about you, there, reading it. Caring is scaring. It makes me want to stop right now, or spend years composing something flawlessly literate. Unfortunately, my deadline was yesterday, and Shakespeare I ain't, so…woo-hoo! Now it's 2:20 a.m. My writing partner, a fat, aged beagle named Cookie, snores contentedly at my feet. I'm revisited by a worry that was born the day I fell in love with his puppy self: the dread of the moment that snuffly breathing stops. This is my cue to throw myself forward, drop deeper into my affection for this ridiculous dog. Tomorrow I will let Cookie teach me to roll in the grass, to howl in ecstasy at the sight of good food. Of any food, actually. Woo-hoo! It's 2:30 a.m. Upstairs, my son, Adam, is dreaming dreams I'll never quite understand, because his brain is different from mine. Shortly before his birth, I learned that he has Down syndrome, which put mothering him well above skydiving in my Book of Fears. I yelled a lot during Adam's birth. Eighteen years later, I'm still yelling "Woo-hoo!" And so far, the only consequence of that particular plunge is love. Which takes me to my final point.
In Preparation for Landing
What I really panic about nowadays isn't falling; it's landing. But even that concern is fading, because I've realized there are only two possible landings for someone who embraces intimacy, and both are beautiful. The first possibility is that your beloved will love you back. Then you won't land; you'll just fall deeper into intimacy, together. This is how bald eagles prepare to mate—by locking talons and free-falling like rocks—which is deeply insane and makes me proud to call the eagle my country's national bird. The other possibility is that you'll throw yourself forward, yell "Woo-hoo!," and smash into rejection. Will it hurt? Indescribably. But if you still refuse to bury your broken heart, or force someone to "fix" it—if you just experience the crash landing in all its gory glory, you'll create a miracle. A Jewish friend told me this story: A man asks his rabbi, "Why does God write the law on our hearts? Why not in our hearts? It's the inside of my heart that needs God." The rabbi answered, "God never forces anything into a human heart. He writes the word on our hearts so that when our hearts break, God falls in." Whatever you hold sacred, you'll find that an unguarded broken heart is the ideal instrument for absorbing it. If you fall into intimacy without resistance, despite your alarm, either you will fall into love, which is exquisite, or love will fall into you, which is more exquisite still. Do it enough, and you may just lose your fear of falling. You'll get better at missing the ground, at keeping a crushed heart open so that love can find all the broken pieces. And the next time you feel that vertiginous sensation of the floor disappearing, even as your reflexes tell you to duck and grab, you'll hear an even deeper instinct saying, Fall in! Fall in!
8 Scary Things About Being Older and Single - Rich Santos
As I continue my long journey of singleness , I'm encouraged by the legions of other singles who glorify theirindependence. Some of us are even wearing a ring to celebrate our singleness though hopefully no one mistakes itfor a wedding band. We are like a secret society, having clandestine singles-only gatherings and even a genre of bars named after us. You've heard of "singles bars" but never: - Just Married Bars - Not Quite Sure What We Are Bars - Friends with Benefits Bars - I Hate Them, but I'm in Too Deep Bars
It's great to have bars named after my status, but with each passing day of singleness, as I get older, it gets a little scarier. Here's why:
I'm Not as Open Minded
I started to get close-minded right around the time I was suddenly unable to sleep in random places, requiring abed when traveling or staying with large groups of people. I'm so over the dating scene , and seasoned, that I'msure I know a girl's entire story/type before I actually meet her. As I get older, I become more of a creature ofhabit, and I now habitually go for the same type. I used to hang out with more types, instead of assuming and filtering women out. Also see:
Dating after 40
Let love happen: Falling in love
Why I love large men
18 sexiest places in the world
Society Hates Me
Last time I made the mistake of bringing a female friend home (and keep in mind this was a female friend thateveryone knew I was not dating), my mom hijacked her with her plan to have a crab bake in the backyard for mywedding . Goodness. I don't even have a girlfriend! Many people ask me why I'm still single. It doesn't bother me: Iwon't mind turning into one of those eccentric harcore New Yorkers like Seinfeld 's Kramer. But the longer I staysingle, the longer I seem to be bucking the trends of society.
I Get Rusty
Now that I go longer between dates, and give fewer people a chance, my habits and "go-to" moves are rusty. Icould go on dates just to stay sharp , but that's not fair to either of us. There are fine points of dating thatchange with time that must be monitored closely. For example, I ask girls for advice about whether I should call ortext to meet up for a first date. I get: "Definitely call -- it shows you're serious about it." Or "Text, be casual." If I had an established dating method that remained sharp, I probably wouldn't run into these quandaries.
My Wing Men Are Disappearing
It's always fun, and more comfortable, having a group (or I should say pack ) of my buddies to hit the bars with. Itgives me more confidence. But my single-guy friends are slowly disappearing to girlfriends, married life ...and babies.
I'm Feeling the Pressure
I've had such bad luck in the past, and I rarely find anyone I'm attracted to. Fewer opportunities means morepressure when there's a rare chance after I actually meet someone interesting. Pressure throws off my game a bitand makes things uncomfortable.
I Can't Party Like I Used To
These days, I get drunk pretty fast, and my desire for late-night food is getting earlier and earlier in the evening.Then there are the nights I'm too tired to do anything but stay in and read Wikipedia, and check out HistoryChannel documentaries. And, when I do make it out, I'm often with couples who call it a night before I'm ready to.
I'm Getting Uglier While the Girls Remain Hot
By now I think I have a double chin -- well, maybe I'm just imagining it. These days I spend time looking in themirror, monitoring the progress of developing ugly features , like that double chin. Combine this with the fact that Icontinue to hit on younger girls in that just-out-of-college age range, and you have a total mismatch: a getting-uglier old (but not wealthy) guy hitting on a consistently cute population.
My Pop Culture References Are Dated
My buddy and I considered being Crockett and Tubbs from Miami Vice for Halloween. But then we thought: "If weare hitting on younger girls all night, are they even going to know what Miami Vice is?"
It's great to have bars named after my status, but with each passing day of singleness, as I get older, it gets a little scarier. Here's why:
I'm Not as Open Minded
I started to get close-minded right around the time I was suddenly unable to sleep in random places, requiring abed when traveling or staying with large groups of people. I'm so over the dating scene , and seasoned, that I'msure I know a girl's entire story/type before I actually meet her. As I get older, I become more of a creature ofhabit, and I now habitually go for the same type. I used to hang out with more types, instead of assuming and filtering women out. Also see:
Dating after 40
Let love happen: Falling in love
Why I love large men
18 sexiest places in the world
Society Hates Me
Last time I made the mistake of bringing a female friend home (and keep in mind this was a female friend thateveryone knew I was not dating), my mom hijacked her with her plan to have a crab bake in the backyard for mywedding . Goodness. I don't even have a girlfriend! Many people ask me why I'm still single. It doesn't bother me: Iwon't mind turning into one of those eccentric harcore New Yorkers like Seinfeld 's Kramer. But the longer I staysingle, the longer I seem to be bucking the trends of society.
I Get Rusty
Now that I go longer between dates, and give fewer people a chance, my habits and "go-to" moves are rusty. Icould go on dates just to stay sharp , but that's not fair to either of us. There are fine points of dating thatchange with time that must be monitored closely. For example, I ask girls for advice about whether I should call ortext to meet up for a first date. I get: "Definitely call -- it shows you're serious about it." Or "Text, be casual." If I had an established dating method that remained sharp, I probably wouldn't run into these quandaries.
My Wing Men Are Disappearing
It's always fun, and more comfortable, having a group (or I should say pack ) of my buddies to hit the bars with. Itgives me more confidence. But my single-guy friends are slowly disappearing to girlfriends, married life ...and babies.
I'm Feeling the Pressure
I've had such bad luck in the past, and I rarely find anyone I'm attracted to. Fewer opportunities means morepressure when there's a rare chance after I actually meet someone interesting. Pressure throws off my game a bitand makes things uncomfortable.
I Can't Party Like I Used To
These days, I get drunk pretty fast, and my desire for late-night food is getting earlier and earlier in the evening.Then there are the nights I'm too tired to do anything but stay in and read Wikipedia, and check out HistoryChannel documentaries. And, when I do make it out, I'm often with couples who call it a night before I'm ready to.
I'm Getting Uglier While the Girls Remain Hot
By now I think I have a double chin -- well, maybe I'm just imagining it. These days I spend time looking in themirror, monitoring the progress of developing ugly features , like that double chin. Combine this with the fact that Icontinue to hit on younger girls in that just-out-of-college age range, and you have a total mismatch: a getting-uglier old (but not wealthy) guy hitting on a consistently cute population.
My Pop Culture References Are Dated
My buddy and I considered being Crockett and Tubbs from Miami Vice for Halloween. But then we thought: "If weare hitting on younger girls all night, are they even going to know what Miami Vice is?"
Monday, December 14, 2009
Live WELL! - daily gratitude
Today I'm grateful to have been apart of the Olympics.
Though I didn't get down to see the torch... others that were unable to get out got to hear the excitement because I stayed at the station to put Bruce on-air live on location.
Though I didn't get down to see the torch... others that were unable to get out got to hear the excitement because I stayed at the station to put Bruce on-air live on location.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
LIVE WELL - Gratitude
Today despite the fact I'm not a fan of winter, cold or snow...
I'm grateful for the snow. The first snow of the year is beautiful.
The world and environment are such a miraculous and amazing thing.
The wonders of our planet are not lost on me.
Today I am Thankful for the snow.
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