Lesson 6 - Cancer Saves Lives

        I want to be very clear about something.

Cancer isn’t funny.

It is a horrible and deadly disease.  The only people who can make jokes about cancer are people who’ve actually had cancer.  They can because they have lived the disease and have therefore earned the right to say anything they want about it.  No one else gets that right and privilege unless it is conferred upon them by someone who has had it.

Ok, I realize that’s not some sort of official ruling.  It’s sort of an understood rule that I’ve tried to put words to, and possibly made up just now.  I tell you all that so that if I happen to seemingly make light of cancer in some way, you’ll understand the context and the ruling.

The ruling is stated above.

The context is… I’ve had cancer.

Twice.

No no, I’m fine.  I’m not currently dying.  In fact, I may be in the best shape of life.  Or at least close to it.

And I have cancer to thank for it.  

No, cancer didn’t make me healthy.  It didn’t give me superpowers.  I had to earn my health the hard way just like every one else.

Although that reminds me of a funny story.

Back in college, I played a lot of role playing games.  Dungeon & Dragons type of role playing, except we rarely played D&D.  What we played was the Marvel Super Heroes Role Playing Game.  Everyone makes a hero, gives him stats and powers, and then a GM (game master) runs you through a story based adventure or campaign.  I realize this has become the definition of nerdery and geekery, but hey, it’s a lot of fun, so don’t nock it till you’ve tried it.

Well, I made a bunch of different characters over the years we played, with different powers and stories.  But they all had one thing in common.  They all sucked.  Not because the characters were bad, but because it seems I had discovered one of my real super powers.  

The ability to role dice badly.

When the game relies on you being able to role dice well in order to do well, and you can role dice below average as a general rule, the game gets hard very quickly.

That was my first real life superpower that I discovered that I had.

The second was actually unintentionally predicted when I made my first character.

Twice.

I had never made a character before.  Well, I had made ONE before, so I guess this technically was my second.  But I don’t count the other one because it was made through random rolling instead of any sort of creative intent.

So, this SECOND character was tricky.  I wasn’t sure what to do.  I wanted something original.  I didn’t want to make another Spiderman or Captain America.  As we were tossing ideas around as a group we eventually started talking about what powers we would like to have in real life.  At this point the conversation becomes very philosophical.  What power would you have?  What would you do with it?  How would it affect the world and thought and Jesus and babies?  

Or any number of other semi ridiculous discussions.  And by “semi ridiculous”, I mean “totally sweet.”

Finally, one of us said, and I don’t remember which for sure, maybe me, “You know, if I ever had a power, it would probably be something really lame.”  At which point another of my friends said something to the effect of, “Ya, that’s probably more like it.  Your power (he said to me) would probably be the incredible ability to replicate your body’s cells at an increased and uncontrolled rate.  In real world terms, we’ll call that ‘Cancer’.”  

We all laughed.  Yes, this was technically before I had cancer and therefore violated the rule I outlined above.  But it was just so ridiculous and the power of irony was strong.  If I ever were to get a superpower, it would be a horrible and often deadly disease.

That was predictor number one, which was followed immediately by my friend and I going, “Hey, that’s not a bad idea.  What if your character has cancer, and…”  

And there it was.  History was made and one of the greatest characters I ever made was created.  

It was also predictor number two.

Now, don’t misunderstand.  I don’t actually believe these things were predicting my future as a cancer patient.  I’m not that nutty.  And if they were, I clearly didn’t pick up on it.

It did, however, become sort of a running joke amongst my friends.  They would all get cool powers, and I would be the guy who got cancer.

And it was pretty funny, not because cancer is funny, but because of the irony.  Because I was the guy who couldn’t roll dice well.  I could roll two 10 sided die, which gives me 1-100 in terms of possible results (as the game limited the rolls)… and I could roll them 10 times in a row.  In those ten times, 9 of them would be below 40 and 7 below 10.  That’s what we call “bad rolling.”

So, therefore, if any of us got shafted on the powers, it would be me.

It was the running joke.

Till one day my doctor told me I had cancer.  In that moment it stopped being funny.  I actually had one of my friends tell me how bad they felt that we had made the joke for all those years.

In the end, it’s still funny.  I can laugh and make fun of it now.  It doesn’t bother me anymore.  Life is life and it happens sometimes.  But at the time, it wasn’t so funny.  It suddenly became the awkward joke.  We tried to be cool about it, but it didn’t always work.  In fact the second time I was diagnosed with cancer I informed one of my friends by telling him, “So, hey.  Guess what?  My superpowers came back.”

He responded, “Oh ya?  Ha!  Good for you, bud.  (then long pause as the meaning sunk in)… Oh.  OOOOooohhh… oh… (awkward silence).”

It had seemed clever in my head.

What do I know?

It’s been almost four (seven now) years now since that second diagnosis.  And now, I can make jokes and he can make jokes.  The current joke is that I am the jar in which God keeps all his diseases.  “Tony, could you pass the herpes, please?  Thank you.”

No, I don’t have herpes.

It was really the only way we as friends could deal with the awful reality that one of us could die in some sort of untimely and horrible fashion.

And don’t get me started on the realities of chemotherapy.  It’s just… well, it’s just bad.

Instead, let’s talk about how cancer made me a better person.

I was living a relatively isolated life at the time.  My job made it easy for that to happen.  Neither my wife nor myself particularly liked that part of my work.  We were pretty out of touch and secluded from many of the people we used to know.

Once I was in chemo, however, I couldn’t work anymore.  I didn’t have the energy or strength.  At best, I could sit in front of my computer.  Which is when I decided to do a few things.  I started a MySpace page.  Then eventually a Facebook page.  I started a blog that shares the same name as this book.  In fact, this book wouldn’t exist at all had I not came down with the cancer.

Don’t you love it when people put the word “the” in front of a disease name that doesn’t grammatically require the word “the” there?  

It amuses me.

Anyway, I started getting in touch with all these people I hadn’t seen or talked to in years.  Hundreds of them.  And in the process I made some new friends as well.

I was writing in my blog because it allowed me to say what was on my mind and help some people at the same time.  Maybe not much, but a little.

I discovered that there were all these people who were hurting in life for one reason or another, and maybe they didn’t have cancer, but maybe their life was worse.

Through this whole process, I realized I was to able help people in ways I couldn’t have before.  I wouldn’t have known how.  What I should say, or what I shouldn’t say… being able to empathize even if I couldn’t sympathize… knowing how horrible disease could be…

Once I was strong enough, I started visiting the cancer center I was treated at.  I would talk to the patients.  Find out how they were doing, if there was anything I could do for them, or if they just needed someone to talk to.

Chemo completely screws with your head.  On top of having poison pumped through your body, you are dealing with all the emotional trauma of a life threatening illness.  For some of these people, it was a direct death sentence.  There are some people I used to visit with and take treatments with who didn’t make it.  

There was the 30 year old mother of three.

There was the 18 year old high school football star.

I lived and they didn’t.

I was forced to start seeing my life very differently.  I started seeing my purpose and place in the world differently.  My priorities shifted and juggled and changed.

I’m pretty sure cancer saved my life.

I’ve come to realize what a selfish person I had been before.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m still selfish.  But I’m trying harder now.

I’ve also tried to stop lying to myself about who I am and what my place in life is.  My illusions were shattered.  I was always the healthy guy.  All the kids who did drugs in school are all healthy.  I was clean and sober my whole life and I got cancer.

Of course, it’s not that simple.  That’s one of the illusions that shattered.

If I hadn’t had cancer, I might not be as healthy as I am now.  I probably wouldn’t have tried very hard.  But now, every moment of good health matters.  Because now I know what bad health is like.  I don’t want to feel that again.

Although, I also know that I have no control over it.  I can be as healthy as I want, but it’s no guarantee.

And maybe that’s the greatest illusion that was shattered.  I have no control.

I have no control.

I have NO control.

Keep saying it.  Maybe it will sink in.  Everyone intellectually will agree that so much of life is out of our control.

But we really don’t believe it.  We have tricked ourselves for so long into thinking that we can control it all that we don’t know how to think any differently.

We think we need control.  We grasp at it with all our strength.  It’s how we deal with life and the things around us.  We create a view of the world that allows us to shape it any way we wish.  And while we do have a say over our lives and we can do so much more than we think, that’s not the part of our view that we cling to.

We cling to the part that brings comfort.  We cling to the illusion of safety.  We cling to illusion of comfort.  The illusion of happiness.  Things are so simple in our illusion.  The danger and risk are minimal.

Everyone remembers 9/11.  It was a horrible day.  So many people died needlessly.  There were so many things wrong with what happened, but do you know what most people took from that experience?

Flying is dangerous.

Seriously.  Flying is dangerous.

Specifically, flying is now MORE dangerous.

Tell me, did flying get more dangerous?  Or had the danger always been the same and now we just realized it wasn’t what we thought?

Those terrorists exploited dangers that had always been there.  Those dangers weren’t new.  They had just never been used that way.

Flying wasn’t and isn’t any more dangerous than it had been before.  We just started realizing that we didn’t know what we were talking about.

In the end, we are like the guy in the move The Matix who wanted to get put back in.  He saw reality for what it was and couldn’t handle it, so he fought to cling to his illusion by being put back in and having his memory erased so he wouldn’t have to know what reality was truly like.

Tell me, were the jokes we made about cancer in school suddenly more offensive when I had cancer?  Or were the jokes always of poor taste and WE changed?

Or maybe it’s not the jokes that were wrong, but maybe it was our perception of the reality surrounding the humor?

I’m not offended by my friends joking about my disease.  I joke about it all the time.  I’ve realized cancer is just a thing that happens that I have no control over.

But real cancer isn’t the tumor you grow in our body.

Real cancer is the illusion that grows in our mind.  It keeps us from seeing the way things really are.  It keeps us from finding the flaws in our world view.  It keeps us from even wanting to find the flaws in our world view.

It keeps us from wanting to change.

It keeps us from being honest with ourselves about ourselves and from desiring to do anything about it.  It deceives us into thinking everything is fine and there is nothing wrong, or that the things that are wrong are something pointless and irrelevant and not the real problems in our life and views.

It keeps us from seeing the truth.

The truth is, physical cancer could still kill me one day, but no matter what, it has already saved me.

The truth is, it’s not the physical cancer I fear(although I do) as much as the mental and spiritual cancer that will most certainly kill me if I don’t allow my self to see it and destroy it.

Lesson 5 - Sports Cars are Fast

Right.

So, listen.  At this point you are probably catching on to the fact that I like to state the obvious.

Captain Obvious.  That’s me.

Ha.  Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone was so aptly named?  Like, Commander Klepto.  Professor Halitosis.  Captain Vulnerable to Peanuts.

At the very least, comic books would be different.  But it sure would be useful in dating.  Captain Hammered McDrunken, or Princess Cottage Cheese Bum.

Ok, so, it’s probably better not to do that with our names.  We would make too many assumptions too quickly.  Because, really, nothing is ever how it appears to be at face value anyway.

It’s funny.  As people, we think we know all about something just by its name.  But there can be so many variations on an object or concept.  Let’s talk about cars.

Why?  Mostly because I like cars and, darn it, this is my book.

=)  (There is that emoticon again.  Persistent little bugger…)

You know how people say a person knows too little to be useful and just enough to be dangerous?  Did you know that saying was coined because of me?  Ok, so, that’s probably a lie.  Ok, I’m sure it’s a lie.  But that doesn’t make it apply any less.  Here is what I mean.

I grew up on muscle cars.  My dad was, and still is, really into old school hotrods and old cars in general.  Therefore, so was I.  I love them.  I wanted to own one.  (still do…)  I grew up in the garage with my dad turning the wrench on one project or another, dreaming about the day when I would get to be the guy behind the wheel of a car way to powerful for me to be driving.

The possibilities of trouble that lay before me were endless.

And then finally, the day came.  I got my driver’s license.  Oh the joy!  Oh the bliss!  Oh the horror!

Yes, horror.  If you were my parents, it was most definitely horror.  I mean, think about it.  Handing the keys to any car, especially a powerful one, to me, the kid who had dreamed about driving something fast and awesome all his life… it was sort of like taking a shiny new grenade, pulling the pin, and handing it to a toddler.

Well, the first car that I was allowed to drive on a regular basis as “my own”, was a 1978 Dodge Aspen ex-police car.  It had the whole squad car package.  Beefed up suspension, 360 cubic inch v8 with more power than I needed.  (admittedly, by today’s standards, it wasn’t that much power.  But still…)

I thought I was invincible.  I thought I knew everything about cars and driving.  And in my defense, I was quite knowledgeable for someone my age.  I knew all the facts and figures and how to work on them, and I wasn’t even a half bad driver.  Pretty good, even.  

The problem wasn’t my driving skill, however.

I used to go out on to barren roads and empty parking lots just to “test out” the car and “get used to its handling” and “do stupid crap.”  

I suppose we didn’t need to use code on that last one.

Well, there was this one road that I drove all the time.  It was a frontage road to the main highway that went past where I grew up.  It had a 55mph speed limit, but it had a tight curve near the end of it that was rated at 25mph.  But as every teenager knows, speed limits are merely suggestions (cough cough), and are meant to be ignored (please don’t take me to jail nice mister police man.)

I had practiced enough that I could toss that old squad car into fish tail turns and four wheel drifts.  I had learned how it handled and was pretty confident.  So, to test that out, I figured I could straighten that curve Dukes of Hazard style and live to brag about it.

Long story short, I hit that curve going close to 70mph.  And you know what happened? 

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing, except total and complete awesomeness.

I drifted that bad boy all the way through the curve like some sort of road racing demon of, um… road racing.

I didn’t crash, I didn’t get a ticket… it wasn’t even close.  In my mind, I had proven to myself that I was in fact the superior driver and that my superior understanding of cars and driving had won the day.

Fast forward a few months.

My mom had a fun little car.  It was a 1989 Dodge Shadow ES Turbo.  It really was a pretty fun little car.  Five speed, 150hp, and it handled like a go-kart.  Well, at least it did compared to that old heavy squad car I was driving.  It was lighter, peppier, and just more fun to drive.

One day while dropping off a friend at his home after school, I was going down that same road.  I decided I was going to show him how amazing my mom’s car was and, more importantly, how amazing my driving skills were.

We hit 120mph on the highway, got off, hit the frontage road, and where nearing triple digit speeds again.  However, I had the good sense to slow down for that curve.  I figured it like this.  That squad car made the curve at 70, and this car handled better.  Therefore, if I wanted, I should be able to take the curve faster.  However, I decided to slow it down to 55mph instead.  It was still crazy fast for that curve, but slower than before.  It should be a cake walk.

I threw that car into the curve and the next thing I knew was that we were upside down in a ditch hanging from our seat belts.  The car slid off the road (can we say I blew a tire?  For my ego?  Please?), hit the dirt embankment, and basically flipped corner to corner in some part barrel-roll, part end over end style of flipping.  Honestly, I’ll probably never know for sure what it looked like.  All I know is that car no longer exists.  It didn’t have a straight piece left on it.  Every window was broken.  Except for one, which my friend kicked out getting out of the car.  (that’s another story…)  Fortunately, though, we were fine.

Now, besides the fact that I’m stupid, what went wrong?  Was my analysis wrong?  Well, the Dodge Shadow was indeed the better handling car.  So if you are doing straight-forward logic, it should have worked.

What I didn’t account for was the fact that the Shadow was a front wheel drive car, and the Aspen a rear wheel drive car.  Anyone who knows anything about cars, knows that a front wheel drive car handles very differently than a rear wheel drive car.  That is where the flaw in my logic was.  I didn’t anticipate that fact.  I did not even know that fact.  For all my knowledge and “experience”, it had never occurred to me that it would matter.  It didn’t occur to me that which tires were providing the motion and struggling for traction would matter.  It never occurred to me that having the same tires steering AND driving the car, would cause grip to be different.  It never occurred to me that the car wouldn’t want to tail slide just like my other car.

Any truly experienced driver would know this.  I however, was not a truly experienced driver.  I just thought I was.

Unfortunately, reality and truth were sort of scaled and relative.

My facts were correct, but it didn’t occur to me that they were only correct within a certain context.  Fast for one car was even faster for another in certain situations.  Not that the speed was different, but the limits were.  The techniques for handling the limits were different.

As I’ve gotten older and driven other cars and faster cars, I’ve come to learn that fast and slow are relative to the vehicle.  If you are driving a Corvette, fast is pretty fast before it becomes too fast for the cars ability.  But if you are driving a boat like Buick slow can still be pretty fast when it comes to the cars ability.

It’s all about the context.

So is our world view.

Remember that from last chapter?  Our view is based on “facts.”  But the facts are sometimes relative.  They can be contextual.  A thing can be true, but not always true.

In America, giving someone the “thumbs up” gesture means “good job” or something similar.  But in some countries, the “thumbs up” is a very offensive gesture that definitely does not mean “good job.”

In one context it’s good, in another it’s very bad.

What facts do we use to shape our view of things?  What truths make up our perception of reality?  And, more importantly, how many of those truths are actually true?  And even more importantly, would we ever be willing to admit that any of those truths aren’t so true?

Without that flexibility, our world view will always be stunted, and therefore incomplete.  The only way to have that flexibility is through personal honesty.  The recognition that I don’t know what I’m talking about, or that I’m full of poo.

That recognition is super important.  It’s that recognition that teaches me that my car accident had nothing to do with the Shadow handling different than the Aspen.  It wasn’t that the car was incapable.  It was that I was incapable.  A professional driver would have been just fine.  I was the problem.  I was the one who didn’t know better, but more importantly I was the one who would never admit that he didn’t know better.

If I had, I would have been able to alter my view and therefore my actions.  I would have been able to recognize the fallacy in my mind before it was too late.

I would have understood that fast cars can feel slow, and that sometimes slow is still way too fast.

Lesson 4 - Everyone is a Green Lantern

            No, this title is not contradicting the last lesson.  Stick with me and you’ll understand.

Everyone who has ever picked up and read a comic book has formed some sort of opinion on who the most powerful superhero is.  Usually it comes up with friends in discussions like, “So, who would win in a fight, Wolverine?  Or Batman?”

Sure, those two are from two entirely different comic universes, but still the questions get asked.

But when it comes to “who’s the most powerful” I think many people would probably say Superman.  He’s one of the most well known and he is definitely one of the most straightforward in terms of powers and power levels.  Not many heroes can out punch Superman.

However, if I may offer my own opinion… without starting a war with comic book readers with differing opinions… I think the Green Lantern is the most powerful.  Or at the very least, has the potential to be the most powerful.

Hey hey, guys… simmer down.  I said it’s just my opinion.  You don’t have to agree.

Here is why I vote for him and a little Green Lantern back ground to boot.  The Green Lantern is part of a larger group of heroes known as the Green Lantern Corps.  They are basically a large group of space police that protect the entire universe.  It is broken into 3600 sectors (3599 actually, but that’s another story), with each sector protected by at least one (or more) Green Lanterns.  

The Green Lantern’s power comes from a ring he or she… or it… wears.  The ring channels energy though it, a green energy, and is controlled by the users will.  A Green Lantern is limited only by his or her will and imagination.

   Other than that, the ring user can literally do anything.

Anything.

If she can think of it, she can do it.  If he can imagine it, he can do it.  If they have the will, they can make it happen.

Fly.  Turn invisible.  Make objects out of energy.  Teleportation.  Phasing.  Simulate super strength.  Anything.

Manipulate matter.

Anything.

Manipulate reality.

Literally anything the user can both imagine and have the willpower to do.

Of course, there is the loophole.  It’s limited by the imagination and will.  And let’s face it.  Most of us are either pretty weak willed or completely lacking in imagination.

In reality, the Green Lantern is limited by how he or she sees or understands reality.  The Green Lantern is limited by his or her “world view.”

How does he see things?  Understand things?  What does that cause him to do?  How does it cause him to think?  What strategies will he devise because of that?  How will that guide his use of the power?

Let me give you some great Green Lantern examples.

Hal Jordan.  He’s the icon.  The Green Lantern by which all other Green Lanterns are measured.  He was an Air-force fighter pilot turned test pilot.  He has no fear.  He is focused.  He is efficient.  So when he uses his ring, this is how he uses it.  He keeps it simple.  He does what is needed to get the job done.  He likes to make boxes and spheres and hammers and such.  However, he also is the one Lantern that can do some of the more amazing things.  Turn invisible.  Phase through solid objects.  Create dimensional gateways.

He finds the most efficient way to do something, then does it.  No waste, no mess, no fuss. 

Kyle Rainer.  He was an artist.  Everything he makes is a work of art.  He makes comic book characters.  Anime robots.  Mecha.  Gun-toting bikini girls.  Ninjas.  And all of them are works of art and works in progress.  He never just does something and sticks with it.  Each construct is newer, better, more imaginative, constantly being made and remade.  He’s an artist, and he creates like an artist.  Never satisfied with what he’s done.

John Stewert.  The architect.  Everything he makes is precise.  And they have substance.  He makes something from the inside out.  It isn’t just a shell or an illusion of an object.  He makes it as though it has substance… as though it’s the real thing.  You could dissect it, and see the internal workings and constructs.  

Guy Gardner.  He’s the angry guy.  Raw.  When he uses the ring it doesn’t so much project energy as it leaks energy.  With him, the energy is like water in a dam waiting to burst through.  He doesn’t attack with creativity.  He attacks with power.  As much as he can, all the time.  No finesse.  No art.  Just raw power unleashed.

Kilawog.  He was an alien scientist.  He looks sort of like a humanoid hippo on steroids.  For some reason, his ring is the only ring that makes noise.  Of course, it’s not the ring, it’s him.  There is something about him, about the way he sees things and approaches things that causes that ring to make noise when no ones else does.  Everyone else goes silently about their business.  But not Kilawog.

There are many other Green Lanterns I could have talked about, but these are the main and most recognized Green Lantern characters.

It occurred to me that the significance of a Green Lantern wasn’t his or her ring and power, but his or her world view.

That is the one thing that’s different.  They wield an equal ring with the same power, same energy and same potential.  But each user is more or less successful or seemingly powerful or effective compared to each other.

All rings are created equal.

But not all users.

And as I was thinking about this, I realized that this is exactly how people are.  We are not limited by the possibilities around us.  Especially not in the modern age of globalization and global communication.  Instead, we are limited by ourselves.  By how we see the world.

We are limited only by our world view.

We are who we are in large part because of how we see the world.  Where were we raised?  Who raised us?  With what values were we raised with?  With what experiences were we shaped?

But more importantly, are we capable of seeing past any of that so that we can understand that all of our world views are limited and incomplete and therefore are limiting us?

That doesn’t make them bad or evil.  Just limited.  

Sometimes, we go a direction because someone told us we weren’t capable of going in another.  

It might not have been true.

My wife is a nurse.  When she was in nursing school there was an instructor who told her she would never make it as a nurse.  She wouldn’t be any good and she should just quit.

My wife could have listened to that.  Instead, she didn’t.  She graduated and has gone on to consistently be one of the most recognized and competent nurses in any department she has worked.  I say this not because she is my wife.  I say this because of the commendations she has received for nursing excellence as voted by both peers and patients.  The hospitals she has worked at have received numerous letters and messages from patients saying how much they loved her or how great she was with them and how much they appreciated her skill and attitude.

Of course, I think she’s great because she’s both kind and totally smokin’ hot.

But what do I know.

In the end, my wife could have experienced none of that success if she had listened to the person who was telling her what she couldn’t do, instead of believing in herself and what she could do.

She didn’t let that instructor shape her view of herself and therefore damage her world view.

Of course, my wife’s world view IS damaged.  But only in the same way all of our world views are damaged.

We only rise as far as we think we can.  If we didn’t know any different, we would go farther.  Be more.

You know why students in Korea and China and other Asian countries are often ahead of our students here in America?  Especially in areas of languages and math?  It’s because their school system pushes them harder sooner.

We see that and think, “oh, poor kids.”  Why?  Cause we all hated school.  

Do you think their kids see it that way?  Oh, they might hate school also.  But only for the same reasons we did.  They don’t realize they are being pushed harder.  They see it as normal.  

A person will go as far as they are expected to go.  We then draw a line at that expectation and try our darndest to not go past it. 

It’s a shame, really.  Because we are capable of so much more.  Of being, so much more.

All it would take is for us to realize that we are all like Green Lanterns and that the only limit is that which we place on ourselves.

Lesson 3 - Dio Was Not Ozzy

Well, well.  It seems I almost forgot to post today.  In fact, I think, technically, I did.  It is now tomorrow.  (i'll let you work out that math...)  But, as promised, even if late, here is my next post...

As the 1960’s became the 1970’s, the rock music scene was changing faster than supermodels at a fashion show.  The music was becoming harder and darker.  A number of bands were popping up all at the same time that were revolutionizing and impacting the direction that hard rock and heavy metal would take for decades to come.

One of the bands at the forefront of this was a young English band known as Black Sabbath.  Tony Iommi was changing the way metal was played on guitar with his single string guitar riffs, and Ozzy Osbourne was becoming a voice of metal so distinctive that it would be recognized with enthusiasm and awe by almost 40 years worth of heavy metal fans.

Of course, Ozzy’s onstage antics didn’t hurt his fame and infamy.  You try biting the head off of a bat on stage in front of thousands of people and see if you get remembered.

I bet you will.

Throughout the 70’s, Ozzy and Black Sabbath were one of the standards by which all metal was judged.

Then, as the 70’s were coming to a close, Ozzy decided it was time to go out on his own and make a name for himself.  This left a void in Black Sabbath that needed to be filled if they wanted to continue being a force in the world of heavy metal.

In came a man by the name of Ronald Padavona.  Or as the world knew him, Ronnie James Dio.  It is said he changed his stage name to “Dio” after mafia member Johnny Dio.  Prior to his stint with Black Sabbath, Dio was modestly to little known.  Most people do not know that Dio had been a force in rock-n-roll since the late 50’s.  

I for one had been oblivious to that fact.

But once he became the front man for Black Sabbath, he was immediately shoved to the front of the line.  Fronting for Sabbath was possibility one of the greatest honors in the metal world at the time.

And he did a great job.  His first album was a huge success.  The second album was also well received, even if not quite as successful.

Now, let me ask you.

How many of you can tell me off the top of your heads a single song Dio did with Black Sabbath?

Probably some of you can.  They were good.  But most people can’t.  When people think of Black Sabbath, they always think of Ozzy Osbourne.  They think of Iron man.  War Pigs.  Sabbath Bloody Sabbath.  And half a dozen other hugely successful Ozzy-era Black Sabbath songs.

In the end, it didn’t matter how good Dio was, he wasn’t Ozzy.

And as long as he tried to fill the shoes of Ozzy, it was always going to be that way.

I won’t say this is why Dio left Black Sabbath in 1982.  I have no idea why he did.  But I will say this.  The moment he stopped trying to fill Ozzy’s shoes and Ronnie James Dio decided to be Ronnie James Dio, he became one of the biggest legends in heavy metal history.

When a person thinks of Ronnie James Dio, they think of songs like Holy Diver, and Rainbow in the Dark.  Songs done by Dio when he left Sabbath and ventured out with his own band known simply as “Dio.”  

What people don’t think of are songs like Heaven and Hell, which was the title track from his first album as front man for Black Sabbath.  Even though that album was one of the best selling albums Black Sabbath had ever released until that time.

It was a success, but it’s not where his fame lies.

Dio became a success and an icon when he stopped being Ozzy, and started being Dio.

Of course, in his case, it was simply a career and business move, and the opportunity of a life time to take over for Ozzy.  To turn that down would have been insanity for someone in his position.

But as a metaphor, it’s an interesting thing.

The harder we strive to be someone else, the farther away we go from who we need to be.

And that can be dangerous.

Do you know what Super-oos are?  If you don’t, let me tell you what you missed.

Super-oos were Under-oos, except they were super-hero themed.

Wait, you don’t know what Under-oos are either?

*sigh*

Ok, they were a brand/type of under-wear.  Super-oos came with a pair of under-wear, thermal pants and long sleeve thermal shirt that were all super-hero themed.

I had a pair of Superman ones.  The pants were blue, the shirt was blue with the red and yellow “S” on the front, and the underwear were red with the yellow waist band.  However, instead of wearing the underwear like underwear, I’d put them on the OUTSIDE of the pants, just like Superman.  Then I’d tie a red blanket around my neck and run around that way.

Hmm.  I didn’t clarify.  This was when I was a little kid.  This was not last week.

You can’t prove otherwise.

…

So, I would run around with my Super-oos and my red blanket cape because I wanted to be Superman.  I would then proceed to jump off the stairs at our house in an attempt to fly.  Because, hey, I had a cool red cape and Super-oos, I should be able to fly.

It seems our carpet was apparently made of Kryptonite.  My parents said it was green shag carpet.  But I knew different.  I knew it was the reason why every time I would jump off the stairs I’d come down crashing at the bottom.  And I knew that our Kryptonite shag carpet was the reason why it hurt every time.

Actually, I knew that the reason I couldn’t fly was because I wasn’t actually Superman.  Not that I thought he was real.  But you know… kids…

The problem was that I wasn’t Superman.  And pretending to be Superman wasn’t going to make me fly any better or crash any softer.  Eventually, trying to be Superman was going to end in disaster.  To avoid that, it became apparent that I needed to stop trying to be Superman and start trying to be me.

Well, that’s not true.  I think there was a Spiderman phase immediately there after…

As long as I try to be like someone else, I will never reach the potential of who I can be or who I am suppose to be.  I will forever stunt my growth by exploiting the weaknesses in who I am and ignoring the strengths of who I am.  I will never explore my talents, my own joys, the things that bring me fulfillment because I will be too busy trying to be Superman, or Spiderman, or Ozzy.

I will never discover who I am.  Mostly, because I won’t be looking.  I will run around in my life with a giant hole where my identity should be and never be the true triumph of a person that I could be.  I will never develop as a person.  I will never be comfortable as a person.  I will always be looking outside for fulfillment.  And as we have already discussed, that’s a pretty dangerous endeavor.

Ultimately, I will never be whole.  I can’t try to be Superman because I am not Superman.

And neither are you. 

Lesson 2 - Things I Learned From Porn

Hello everyone.

Welcome to this evenings post.  I'm glad you checked in.  However, before you proceed, this post comes with a warning.  (this is a serious warning, not my usual idiotic sarcasm)

I'm actually pretty nervous about tonights post.  I believe I once promised complete honesty, so I can't back out now.  This post contains themes and details that most people will, and should, consider offensive.  It is not done for the sake of shock value, but in order to convey and demonstrate an number of ideas and points all at once.  As the title of this blog suggests, I do use some graphic imagery from pornography as an illustration for furthering the thought.  If this offends you, I truly apologize.  It is not my intention.  However, I hope you will see past anything in here that you think is "unnecessary" and recognize the greater point and principle.  Because, while it may not be necessary for you, I assure you, it will be necessary for others.

You have been warned.  Now, feel free to continue on to the post.

       Perhaps I should qualify a couple things first and answer any questions I suspect might be bouncing around your perceptive brains.

Yes, I’ve seen porn.  No, I don’t watch porn anymore.  Yes, my wife knows.  Yes, it’s been a long time.  No, it hasn’t been long enough.  Yes, I think porn is a very bad idea on almost every level I can think of off the top of my head.

That doesn’t mean, however, that I still don’t want to look.  There are a couple things all you ladies out there need to understand if you don’t already.

Men want to have sex with everything all the time.

We aren’t nearly as discriminating as we would like people to believe.  The criteria are basically this.  Is the lady willing and is she able?  Beyond that it’s just subjective details that largely don’t matter.

Sure, we men want you to think that we have standards and tastes.  And that’s because we do know better and want to make good decisions.  We aren’t all evil jerks.  However, that doesn’t mean the desire to mate with anything and anyone isn’t there in some way.

Is she awake?

Check.

Is she still alive?

Check.

Are either of those optional?

…

Perhaps that’s an exaggeration.  My point is that men are biologically driven to crave sex endlessly.  Fortunately, most of us do our best to use our better judgment and understanding of appropriate behavior and so forth and etc.

Unfortunately, what we know about any of that is driven by culture.

For example.  Let’s take the porn culture.  Porn would have all men believe that every woman is just dying to have you mate with them.  Porn wants you to believe that every woman has no greater desire than perform oral sex on you, and even more, that doing so gives her some sort of fantastic pleasure.  Porn wants you to believe that women crave to have your 12 inch man part (let’s not kid ourselves.  That’s not me OR you) crammed hard and fast into their happy place with the enthusiasm and force of a jackhammer.  Porn would have you believe that every woman is drooling with desire for you to enter in through the out door.  After which, porn would like you to think that after your penis has been in their anus, they want to resume oral sex and are really looking forward to having you ejaculate all over their face or breasts or buttocks.

For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about and think I’m being disgusting or am insane, this is the regular formula of a standard issue porn scene.  I haven’t just made it up.  For those of you who do know what I’m talking about, please inform those who don’t that I didn’t just make that all up.

I’m pretty sure all you women who read this and didn’t throw the book away, are all thinking, “that’s awful and, well, awful.”

I’m pretty sure all you guys who read that are thinking, “Ya, no female who isn’t getting paid large sums of money is ever going to want to be a part of that.”  At which point you sighed inside your mind with a twinge of disappointment.

Let’s be honest here.  I went to college.  So did you most of you men.  You hung with other guys and talked about women and porn and how women relate to porn.

Of course, most of us realized this wasn’t reality.  I don’t know a single guy who has ever had a proctologic exam and walked out of the office going “Wow, I can’t wait to do that again.  Maybe next time he’ll make it last for 20 minutes or so.” 

That’s because it’s unpleasant in every way.

Now, guys, how many of you have thought or fantasized about what it would be like to have porn style anal sex with your wife?  How many of you have actually asked?

Of course you didn’t.  We know it’s ridiculous.  And yet… porn style sex appeals to every part of the biological need to have sex till you pop.  Because none of that is uncomfortable for you as a man.  It’s the woman who’s taking all the abuse.  And in the movies she seems to like it just fine.

And people think porn starlet’s can’t act.

See, even though we know better, there is a part of us that wants it to be true.  Yes, most of us guys would never, EVER, even harbor the idea of asking your wife or significant other to actually go through that.  We know it would be relational suicide AND we know that’s its not really loving sex.  

There is no love there.

Just sex.  And not even kind sex.

Do I think the porn industry is trying to make people think this stuff normal?

No.  At least not all of them.  The reason they make the movie is because it isn’t normal.

But we buy into it anyway.

Let’s be clear, though.  This isn’t about porn.  Or sex.  There are many non-pornographic movies that promote the exact same idea that women are ravenous sex machines who want nothing more than for you to fulfill that need for them.

It’s not true.

What this is about is what forms the ideas of “need” and “desire” in us.

You ever heard college guys tell you “party stories?”  There are tons of variations, but they largely go like this.

“Dude, I couldn’t remember a f___ing thing!  I was sooo wasted!  I woke up in puddle of piss, I was elbow-deep in a squirrel, and I had no pants on.  It was f___ing AWESOME!!!”  (he said in a big frat-boy commando voice.)

Really?  It was awesome?  By what definition?  Because it’s a funny story?  Because your head pounded for two days afterward?  Because, you know, you can’t even remember how it all happened?

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what we call “fun.”

You see, we define happiness and fun and joy and fulfillment by the definitions proposed to us.  We do it, not because they are necessarily accurate, but because we don’t know ourselves and hey, they wouldn’t lie to us, right?

Because TV never lies.

Or books.  Or movies.  Or church.  Or school.  Or anyone.

Don’t get me wrong.  I like movies.  I love action sci-fi and comic books and all that.  But that doesn’t mean I have any illusion that I’m going to go out and punch my fist through a brick wall just because I saw the alien cyborg ninja mutant do it.

At this point I can feel you all going, “Yes, we know.  We aren’t morons, you know.”

Fair enough.  These are exaggerated examples that only apply to the more… “exceptional” among us.

But we all do this in smaller ways.  We see a shirt on a movie star and think this is what I need to look good.  Or maybe it’s a hair cut.

Marketing agencies make their living on the idea that this is true.  We internalize what we see and hear, whether we realize it or not, and incorporate it into thought and action.  They call it “advertising.”

You see a movie with a cool car in it… guys… and you are like, “Man… I’d drive that.”  And there is nothing wrong with that.  I’m a gear head myself.

Tell me, do you think there is a reason why car commercials and magazine ads for cars often have females either selling, driving, or standing next to the car?

I mean, what more could a guy want?  A fast car and sex.  Give him some good food and you have the trifecta of male desire.

Of course, it’s not just movies and TV and magazines.  It’s everywhere.  People we meet.  They have that certain something.  That quality that makes them seem smart or sophisticated.  And you hang on every word.  You spend your time with them making them your friend.  Eventually you start to act like them.  Become more like them.  You enjoy being with them.

It’s because we see something in them that we wish we saw in ourselves.  Maybe it’s smarts.  Maybe it’s likability.  Maybe it’s joy.  But we think that if we can be like this person who I like, others will in turn like me.  Then I’ll be happy.

It is us defining happiness by external criteria.

Unfortunately the external criteria are nothing but superficial stimuli.  It doesn’t make us happy.  It’s not true happiness.  It’s not realistic or even real at all.  It’s an illusion of reality.

It’s nothing but porn.