The Festivial

There I was, looking at the rolling hills covered in grass, scattered with tress here and there. These were not the type of rolling hills you would expect to see in Eastern Washington or Northern California, but hills nonetheless; hills that started at your feet and only sat two feet high.

See, normally I’m not disabled in my dreams; technically I was not disabled in this one either. If I walk, or run, in my dreams I don’t have the same difficulty as I do in real life.

I remember having a dream where I was running backwards with a double barrel shotguns in each hand as I showed zombies what it’s like to cease all brain activity.

I was sitting on a hill, in my wheelchair, listening to the distant sounds of live bands from every direction around me.

If you have ever been to a festival located in the Pacific Northwest, picture that.

I don’t know how or why I ended up being pushed by some dude, but there I was being pushed around, over the grass, at a fast rate of speed by a guy who I didn’t know. A drunk guy with a beard and a chubby midsection.

He was running, with me in front of him as I reached down and held onto the frame of my wheelchair with each hand while I sit in for  the ride of my life.

Every wheelchair has a footrest, a place to rest your feet. This footrest typically sits in front of you, in front of the tires a few inches above the ground. High enough to allow for a 360 degree rotation of the wheels that are on the front of the chair; the ones that are three inches in diameter, the ones most people don’t think about.

Up this hill down that hill, the physics of the situation were blowing past the mind of my driver as I sit there having fun with the thought of what could happen.

Picture a line, as if you were drawing on a piece of paper. That line is four inches long, point A sits three and a half inches above the other line that has an arc to it. You’re just hoping that point B of the straight line does not crash into the line that has an arc.

Up another hill, this is like the fifth hill we have been up and the fourth hill we have been down. At the top of this hill I see two trees, one on my left and one on my right as I also see a congregation of people standing about thirty feet in front of me.

Here we go…another hill and we are going down at a speed that makes you think Forest Gump was taking me across the country and back again.

This time it didn’t work like it did the first four, at the bottom of the hill the front of my footrest impacted with the ground, bringing my chair to a complete stop as it continued to go forward on a different axis of rotation.

I was thrown from my wheelchair as my body crashes into the ground in front of me. The wheelchair is now laying on the ground with it’s left wheel kissing the ground like a grandma forcing a kiss upon her grandchild’s cheek. The right tire is spinning as fast as it can go, just in the air; spinning with whatever momentum was left.

Forest Gump is now laying on the left side of his body as he was thrown to the ground also.

A few seconds later the driver gets up and walks over to me with his arm stretched in front of him pointing all of his fingers at the ground, “Man, do you need help…I’m so sorry.”

Catching him by surprise was me looking up at him with water spilling out of my eyes as I swing my arm in his direction hoping for a high five as I’m laughing and pumping with so much adrenaline that you would think I was Hunter S. Thompson sitting on a bed in a hotel room before my lawyer turns into Satan with six boobs on his back.

“Are you okay,” he says with a smile on his face as my hand slaps into his, “Yea man, that was fun”

“You sure?”

“Yea man, thank you for treating me like a person and showing me a good time.”

Okay, I’m Going to Say it

This post might be long, it’s planned to be short. Knowing me and the way my brain is like a ten year old who has ADHD and is high on cocaine, I might start talking about the kind of wood that tree is and end up talking about the prison industrial complex.

Often I end up looking at my own blog to not only remember what I wrote about but to try to see how someone else might look at it.

On the side I have a compacted list of my followers. Which was good, that was what I planned. Recently a girl started following my blog. She has a picture that some might not like.

So let me address what some might not ever question.

I’m a guy, I love boobs, I love pussies, I love butts…blah, blah, blah. However I am also engaged and that being said her blog is for reading material that might do something else.

Regardless…I’m not trying to get anyone to stop following my blog based on that.

I’ve even noticed that I have a girl who is a christian following my blog, which is kind of ironic considering the fact that I’m at atheist and most hardcore Christians tend to go down the republican road, and…I’m also a democrat.

Point is…if she wants to follow my blog she is more than welcome to. Whatever her reason is…I’m not going to kick them out of the club unless they starting being violent towards others, which to be totally honest I’m not a good bouncer, I’m just the owner.

If you like to show up to my club wearing your Sunday’s best with a Bible under your arm and you also see a naked girl walking around while she holds onto a guys penis with each hand, don’t judge her and try not to judge me.

That sounds a bit hypocritical of me. I try not to judge you, I try not to tell you that how you see life is wrong. Even if it is, it is how you find happiness. But I find myself saying shit like “They’re stupid,” but I try not to. That goes against what I say, but I do try not to.

That being said if I feel a certain way about something, I’m not going to hide it. Just because I think you’re wrong, doesn’t mean I think you’re stupid. I wont tell you how to live life, if you don’t tell me how to live life.

That being said be kind, if you see a naked chick walking around my club don’t be too fast to leave without looking around. If you do end up leaving…I’m glad you stopped by.

Does Anybody Know?

It is starting to happen again, and I don’t think a large majority of American’s even understand why this depresses me so much. This can apply in other countries too, but in the context of this story it happens in America, rather you can relate to it, I don’t think you get it.

I don’t think my fiancé gets it either.

Sorry if I spiral into a vent of anger, I might just end up doing it. These thoughts have been lodged in my brain for sometime now, and now that I’m writing, I might just go in a land of causing and complaining about shit that I have no control over.

As of March 31st, 2016 I have lost my job. I was not fired, I was laid off. They told me the company was changing. You know, that might be true, and it probably was however that was just 10% of the story.

Just like a car commercial says, “The best in its class.” Class of What? Class of Sport Utility Vehicles that have a 17 gallon gas tank. Okay, good. What about the safety rating of those who have more than a 17 gallon tank?

I’m sure they got rid of me because they wanted to replace me with someone else that could do a job that I couldn’t. Not liked they asked me, and that my friends is the double edged sword of having rights as a disabled American. They are not supposed to ask. But hey, if the said, “Can you lift 100 pounds over your head and run with no clothes on,” at least I could have said no.

Either that or they just didn’t need me anymore because they were poor and needed to get rid of stuff. Which in that case, I’m sorry to everyone who works there that needs a blueprint, especially the machinist. The blueprint quality is going to go down the hole. None of the people who I worked with who claimed to be engineers were actually engineers, as far as educational background goes.

The owner of the company can’t even read a god damn blueprint, all he does is look at the isometric view that doesn’t have any sort of technical data and says, “Yea, it looks the same as the picture.” I might be going over someone’s head so let me try to explain this in such a way that most can understand.

Do you like tattoos? Did you ever hear an artist say, “If we make it that small it will have less detail”? Okay, so same applies to blueprints. Let’s assume that you had a bar made out of Aluminium. This bar is 48 inches in length but is only a half inch in diameter. According to ANSI standards there is a thing called a break where if the bar is the same the entire length and there are no changes you can blow up the drawing (make it bigger) by adding a gap that covers 95% of the object, and this is done in order to show a detailed 0.500 dimension. If don’t you’ll end up with a line on a piece of paper that says it is 48 inches long and on the side of it you’ll have a dot that you can’t even see with a .500 dimension on it. Which is what someone did, until I fixed it.

Point being no one that works there knows the proper way to make a blueprint, because they didn’t go to school for it like I did. And in all reality it can be done without a blueprint but that is like trying to drive a car without any wheels. So, anyways…sorry for those who actually needed a blueprint.

So now I’m in the process of filing for unemployment and trying to get back onto social security, which is not my preferred method of income, but I’m glad it is there.

My fiancé and I were originally planning on moving to Oregon in a few mouths. And back when I had a job we decided to stay in this shit hole for another year. So I don’t have a job now, and we are still staying, so I need to find one…but do you have any idea how hard that is for someone with a disability?

Most employers don’t want to hire me because they automatically assume I’m trying out for the NFL. And legally they are not supposed to ask, so they don’t know. So those who don’t know any better always assume the worst. There are employers out there that will give me a shot, but being told no 200 times in a row just to hear yes once is a big weight on the emotions.

It’s like people telling me to touch the top of the stove because it wont burn, but I know it will, so I don’t. Then everyone is mad at me for not touching the stove because they are wasting tax money on people that wont touch the stove. You know what motherfucker, that shit burns.

And let’s face it, there are a lot of jobs that I can’t physically do. So you might only get burnt 10 times before you touch the stove without it burning, but I’m tired of getting burnt, at some point I just want to crawl up in a ball and die because I’m tired of being burnt and no one seems to understand why.

And yes, now I have experience, but I still have to find the job opening. And even then I got to hope that is enough to make a good impression.

Being on unemployment I’m required to look for a job(s), which is all well and dandy until you realize that there are only so many jobs that you can do, and out of that there are so many of those posted. I can’t like be a stocker at Walmart, work at McDonald’s, or do any type of construction. And even then I don’t have any experience in customer service, I don’t even think I’d be good at listening to people yell at me for shit that I didn’t do, I’d be fired too fast for telling them to go out to their car and stick their head up their ass and come back when they cooled down.

And Shannon, Shannon expects me to find a job. She works in special education, so she gets it…but I don’t think she really understand how hard it is.

Coming Out

I think growing up with a physical disability has gave me the ability to learn a task that many people have a hard time with. I think the idea of being proud of who you are has made it easier for me to come out of the closet.

As some of you know I grew up with a physical disability that only got worse over time. 32 years later I can’t really walk without the help of assistance. I used to be able to run, jump, and skip; and I’m glad I got to experience that, as I just said that time is long gone. Even with the idea that I could walk it was easy for anyone to make the assumption that I had a difficult time walking.

I took my first step when I was 11 months old, after falling on the floor I did not attempt to try again for another 2 years and some change.

In elementary and middle school I had a difficult time at school. I had a good life all in all, my parents loved the hell out of me and the few friends that I had gave me the sense of friendship, but school, school was an entirely different story.

One of the first things I have ever noticed about school were kids, males to be more specific, were always picking on me because I was different. I wanted to be popular like any other kid in school and I spent 8 years trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. How I was trying to fit in, with the knowledge that I had at that time in my life, my plan only backfired on me.

By the time I got into 8th grade I had 30 people making fun of me, I didn’t understand it like I do now. Nonetheless school wasn’t a very fun time for me.

Then my dad told me we were moving to Washington State. Like most kids I was sad that I had to leave all my friends behind, but at the same time I was looking forward to moving to a new area based on the fact that no one knew who I was.

Luckily for me a talk show turned my life around. The night before we left the state of Nebraska I was watching TV at two in the morning. There is nothing on TV at two in the morning and after going through the channel lineup three times I stopped on a show that remotely captured my interest.

I wrote about this and a few other experiences in school if you care to dive into my blog that doesn’t seem to have a purpose. But to summarize it, “The only reason people make fun of you is because you give them the reaction that they are looking for.” That really stuck with me. It was like a light bulb was stuck in the back of my head and someone finally decided to flip the switch.

From that point on my life completely changed, I experienced things I only dreamed about in years prior. I became fairly popular, not on the same level as the quarterback or the hottest cheerleader, but when someone gives you 200 pennies and you only had 6 cents you notice a difference.

And people stopped making fun of me because I was no longer giving them the reaction that they were looking for. I stopped trying to shove a round peg into a square hole only to find out that the shape changed to fit my personality.

Part of it had to do with the fact that people grow up and from that came maturity. But if someone tried to make fun of me I didn’t try to get them to like me. And throughout my late high school years I learned how to make fun of myself while remaining humorous to anyone that witnessed that act.

Making fun of myself while having a good sense of humor in the process was by far the best skill that I have ever learned.

Throughout my years living in both states I developed a new perspective on life. I was no longer ashamed of who I was. I developed the idea that I was who I was, and if you didn’t like me for whatever reason it was a waste of my time to try to get you to like me and therefore the people that didn’t like me and/or were trying to make fun of me did not get the reaction that they were looking for.

Because in all reality I didn’t care. Of course in bothered me to a certain extent, but I just came from a place where I experienced that everyday for the past 10 years. I wasn’t going to do it again.

Understanding that you are better than what some people assume you to be can go very far.

That is one of the main reasons why I consider Washington State my home. Other than a good home life that I had while living in Nebraska – the first time – my social life became something that I have always dreamed about. And from there came a lot of other factors such as people, religion, politics, so and and so forth. If you ask me I grew up in Washington State, I was just plated in Nebraska until I was born.

Now, for those of you reading this expecting me to tell you that I’m gay, I’m sorry, I’m not gay. But it got to read this far didn’t it?

Growing up in a republican and religious household I was raised to think it was bad to be gay. And the few friends that I had back then, they thought it was bad to be gay too, mainly because of their religious background, which I’ll talk about here in a bit.

In Washington I got to know many gay people, many of them became my friends. However there was this one dude named Matt who I stopped hanging out with because he kept giving me long and uncomfortable hugs every time we ended up at the same house party. I’m flattered that he thought that I was hot or whatever. And I could give two shits if he had sex with other men, who the fuck cares. But if I feel like you’re only hanging out with me because you wanted to suck my dick…then… And if I was gay it might have happened, but I’m not so it didn’t.

Washington state is a lot more progressive than Nebraska. On a much larger scale the west coast in general is a lot more progressive than a large majority of places that most refer to as the mid-west.

I never had a issue with the fact that Matt was homosexual. I just didn’t want to hang out with someone that only wanted me for my body. And I’m sure a lot of women can relate to that. But gay people are not gay people, if you ask for my progressive view on it, gay people are just people who happen to be sexually attracted to members of the same sex. That’s just the label we put on it. If I call you gay, I mean no offense to it. That’s like my being offended because you called me straight.

My fiance and I are not going to get married until we move to Oregon mainly because her family is in Oregon, she used to be a party planner and therefore has a lot of connections, all of the people who I want to be my groomsman live in Washington and all of her friends that she wants as bridesmaids, with the exception of one who lives in California, live in Oregon.

Considering the fact that we are both Atheists our wedding ceremony will not be of a religious nature. Her uncle is homosexual, and he is a pretty cool guy. Not only is he a DJ for weddings but he is legally allowed to marry a couple. She is going to see if he will want to, which I don’t mind. It just makes me wonder what my religious family members would think if they knew.

And to be honest I don’t care, it’s not their wedding.

Now…I’m not gay so I can’t put myself in their shoes. I can only assume, and even then I don’t know. I don’t understand why it is so hard for kids to come out of the closet. Religious parents that might disown them because of their sexual preferences. While that is horrible, I can understand that fear. I can’t relate to it but I can understand it.

And if someone disowns you because of their religious views…that just sounds like an asshole to me. Those parents have issues, they are just using religion as a fucked up but reasonable excuse to do so.

So the whole reason I started this post is because one day I was sitting around having random thoughts like I tend to do, and I started thinking about all those kids who don’t believe in God but are afraid to tell their parents. They must live several years pretending to be someone their not just to give his or her parents a false sense of security.

I don’t really understand that either. I remember telling my mom and dad that I didn’t believe in God. It never came up in conversation but there was always a hint of it.

In 10th grade, before I had a lot of friends, I was invited to this house party and for whatever reason I ended up going. Later on I found out that the kid who invited me graduated a year prior and was a major drug dealer, user, and had a shit ton of sex with people. He had this party as a way of telling people about God.

I went through a brief religious stage, but never bought into it. After that I decided I was an Agnostic, someone who believed in a higher power but thought that region was bullshit.

A few years after that episode I dropped the very loose belief that I had to become a full out Atheist. I don’t need to go into what I do or don’t believe due to the fact that I don’t want to offend people.

Point being…I was made fun of as a child, more so than most, and my life totally turned around later in life. That being said, I’ll tell you who I am, I’ll tell you what I believe and if for some reason people decide that they don’t like me then I guess they don’t like me. I’m not going to try to fit into a mold I don’t fit into just to please you only to make myself sad.

However I do try to listen to peoples options and try to weigh the positives and negatives of such, I might slightly change my point of view on a certain topic.

I must say…whatever religion you follow, no matter how stupid it might seem, it’s what you do, it’s what makes you happy. As long as you’re not being physically violent to someone else then who the fuck am I to tell you how you can or can not be happy?

However Disowning your own child due to their sexual preference is emotionally violent, if you are that type of parent just think about that…put your own feelings aside for awhile and think about the happiness of your child. And don’t assume that you know what makes your child happy, because you don’t.

The Shadow with Feelings

I thought of this last night while at Olive Garden. This is not the first time is has happened either. It’s by far the number one thing that will turn me from happy go lucky to angry and pissed off in the matter of seconds.

Before I go any further, this post is from my perspective…so if you find something that is not correct, awesome…good for you, it might not be correct but it is the way I see it.

That being said many times people can relate to another perspective due to the fact that they share similar life experiences.

For those of who are in wheelchairs, we carry a perspective that many people don’t even look for. Most able bodied people don’t see life the same way I do, and the other side of that is true too. I can’t relate to an able bodied person, I can act like I can; but in all reality I can’t.

I don’t enjoy the freedom of going to my car, driving to the store, running inside the store to buy a beer (or whatever), and running back to my car to drive home.

Instead I have to go to the back of my car and open my trunk to put my wheelchair in, which honestly takes anywhere from 2-5 minutes. Then we I shut my trunk I have to use the side of my car for assistance to walk to the drivers door, once I get in the car I can drive to the store but once I’m at the store I need to do it all in reverse just so I can go into the store.

When I’m done in the store I need to put my wheelchair back in the car just to drive home to take my wheelchair back out of my car to go in the house.

So, a simple trip that might take you 10 minutes just took me about 30 minutes.

And most people can’t relate to that. Most able bodied people do not know someone who is in a wheelchair for the simple fact that there are more of you that there are of us. At least I know able bodied people, so I don’t know what it is like to walk normal, but I can see the struggles that you don’t have to deal with.

I really enjoy it when someone who is able bodies has to end up in a wheelchair…I know, ending up in a wheelchair is bad and I don’t wish that upon anyone. To be totally honest, if you are only stuck in the wheelchair for a short period of time I don’t really feel bad for you, I’m more excited to talk to you.

If you end up in the wheelchair for the rest of your life…that sucks and all, and I feel bad that it happened, but in all reality complaining to me that you can’t walk anymore is like MC Hammer telling a poor person that he is poor and can’t afford a car payment of $450 a mouth anymore.

But either way you will become a great friend now, why? Because you get to see what I have to deal with on a daily basis. I really do enjoy when people say, “I get it now, how do you guys deal with this.”

I thought of this last night at Olive Garden and I felt like it was time for me to share my perspective with you, because honestly most of you don’t see it, you don’t get it, and I’m not blaming you for not understanding. But you might like to see something that you never see, not because you don’t want to, but simply because you can’t see something when you haven’t been in those shoes.

My fiance and I have been dating for 5 years today, last night was one of her only nights off considering the fact that she works 2 jobs. So last night we went out to dinner, we got a gift card from my parents, so we went to the Olive Garden.

And it was Friday, a busy night. By the time we got into the front door I see close to 25 people standing inn an area that was no bigger than 10 feet by 12 feet, minus the people that were sitting in every seat available. It was so packed in there that some people were even standing in the empty spaces next to the seat.

These spots are normally where I like to park, mainly so I’m out of everyone’s way. But those spots were already taken by people that were standing there waiting for their name to be called. So here I come, picture it as a box, if you’re good at geometry like I am I’ll explain it this way.

Lets say you have a box that is 10×12, giving you a volume of 120 cubic feet, inside of this box you have 4 boxes that take up 5×2 and 3 feet tall. Fuck, forget about height right now, that room that hold 120 square feet is now reduced to 80 square feet. inside of that 80 square feet you have eight boxes that remain planted next to those boxes that are 5×2, these 8 boxes and 1×1 and reduce the open area to 72 square feet. Inside of that remaining 72 square feet you have close to 40 boxes that are all 1×1 which reduces that back down to 32 square feet, but don’t forget about the front counter that sits in a 3×5 box which again reduces that to 17 square feet.

And I set in a box that is 3×2 which takes that remaining 17 squre feet down to 11. And most of these boxes are able to change shape and move around the floor in an unorganized pattern, so that 11 squre feet is really not 11 squre feet, it turns into a few hundred smaller boxes that are only a few inches squared.

Point being, I’m in a wheelchair and I take up more space than you do, I can’t move around as freely as you can. And you only give me a limited area of space to moved around. Which honestly makes me feel like I can’t move.

And I only sit at 4 feet tall when most of you sit anywhere from 5 to 6 feet tall. If I’m surrounded by boxes that are all that two feet taller than me and I can’t see anything but your ass and I feel like I can’t move anywhere, I am quick to turn into a steaming ball of anger.

Don’t get me wrong I love looking at asses, but not in that situation. And when I move anywhere I hit people, not like I mean to, but I do mainly because I have no other options. And even if I were hit you with the intention of doing so you all say, “I’m sorry.”

Do you have any idea how annoying that is? When I feel trapped and you say, “I’m sorry,” all I hear is, “I’m sorry I’m not paying attention to where the fuck I’m going.” I understand that you feel bad for being in my way, even if I hit you on purpose. But in that intense you just seem like someone who only cares about themselves, and most of the time I won’t even acknowledge the fact that you apologized for being an asshole.

I remember my fiance looking at me and saying something to the effect of, “Let’s go over there.” She knows me well enough at this point to know that I had red gas coming out of both ears as I said, “I don’t care, I just don’t care anymore.”

I was at the point of doing one of two things, both of them based out of anger. I was either going to let go of my wheels and sit in the middle of the box giving up all control of going anywhere or doing anything independent and just saying “No, I’m not going to try to get out of your way; it’s your responsibility to fucking get around me because I can’t move.”

Either that or I was just going to start running motherfuckers over because they seem to be trapped into their own would enough that they don’t think I’m even there, I’m just some kind of object, I’m not a fucking person. The funny thing about that is everyone would have turned around and said, “I’m so sorry”.

Look bitch, if you were really sorry you would have fucking saw that I was trying to move somewhere in the first place and not blocked my path because you were trying to get out of someone else’s way while you just quickly looked at me like I was some sort of stationary object.

I’m pissed now.

And there is no sort of traffic system when it comes to people walking in a tight area. They just go wherever the fuck they want, whenever the fuck they want to.

Just please, if you end up in that situation please understand that someone in a wheelchair is a person too. We want to get out of your way, but if you don’t fucking acknowledge us and you continue to act as if we are just some kind of stationary obstacle, you might piss of off and we might run into you.

I don’t want to run into people. I love people. But I’m in a wheelchair, you’re not, I will lightly tap you if I need to. And don’t fucking say, “I’m sorry,” because I don’t really care.

Because I Love Music

You know what man? I totally got this idea from one of the blogs I follow. I mainly stumbled onto the blog because her main picture looked hot, but I’m engaged, why do I care, whatever. I could not find a larger image anyways.

The name of her blog I can not remember. But if you (the owner of the blog) happens to read this feel free to link yourself to this. If you don’t then…whatever.

So I loaded my iTunes and as some of you may know I have an ungodly amount of music. I put my music on random and I’m going to tell you what songs those are, and if I can I’ll put a YouTube link to that song in  case you are curious to actually know what song I’m talking about.

Hopsin – I Can’t Decide

This dude was quick to become one of my favorite rappers. Mainly for his lyrical content. He manages to tell stories that I may not be able to relate to, but it is more relateable than money and bitches. And yes, hip-hop is my favorite genre and I do listen to songs about money and bitches. But in all reality I’m poor like 99% of the rest of America. And I’m lucky if someone has sex with me, and if they do I don’t refer to them as a bitch unless they are being a bitch.

So I can, in a weird way, relate to this story more then some other songs. Maybe it’s because I had many times where I told my friends not to do stupid shit.

Yelawolf – Radio

Many of my friends think this is a stupid song, but I don’t really care. Not only do I love music which is why I can relate to this song, but the beat puts me in a good, relaxed mood. This song also reminds me of waking up at three in the morning to drive to downtown Puyallup and sit on the train all the way to King Street Station in Seattle. This album came out when I was working in Seattle and woke up at 3am just to get home at 7pm and go back to sleep at 8pm.

Daddy X – Old School Shit

In 2004 I lived in Washington State and listened to 104.9 Funky Monkey, a rock station that only a few of you might know, it no longer exists. The station has went through two changes sense then. Regardless of that I heard that my favorite band was playing at Seattle Hempfest 2004. The first time I went to Seattle Hempfest I saw Kottonmouth Kings, for free. At that point I feel in love with the event and tried to go every year after. Daddy X was the lead singer/founder of Kottonmouth Kings/Subnoize records. He released two solo albums, this song is off of his album Organic Soul.

Hed PE – Renegade

This band is also part of Subnoize Records, but I didn’t find out about them until my friend Marcus “introduced” me to them. There is really no story for this song, I just like it. If you like rock music, you’re a democrat, and a fan of conspiracy theories you might like this band.

Brotha Lynch – Siccem

This song was shortly released after Brotha Lynch was signed to Strang music. If you know of Tech N9ne you know of Strange Music out of Kansas City, MO. Sorry that most of these are rap, I listen to a lot more than rap. I just like this song, I can’t relate to it. Only a few people can stomach his lyrical content. But if you can understand that a story is just that, a story, not real life, you might be able to get passed it. I just like this song.

Eminem – My Name Is

I remember watching Total Request Live on MTV. I was in ninth grade and I just moved from Nebraska to Washington State. I was part of the millions of “kids” who watched this video the first time it was on TV, in such a large scale. Since then Eminem was one of my favorites, mainly because he was white and it was different, and being white and having another style of childhood I was a fan of his lyrical content. His new album, MMLP2 has some pretty good stories in it, he even has a song where he apologizes to his mom. If you know anything about the history or Eminem, that was not something I was expecting to hear.

That’s it….I got shit to do. So yea…and stuff. I can go on forever. Those 5 songs only hit on 0.03% of my music library.