God Bless America

Since it's been several months since I last wrote a blog post, there are several things I want to put in this one, but since I have a tendency to forget things as I get more involved in a single subject, we'll see just how many things get written about.

First off, I want to start by explaining a little bit about why I've been so silent the last couple months. This last semester kicked my ass. It was the coldest winter of my entire life and I was unprepared. Tack on some emotional issues I experienced with one of my best friends, and you have the making of the most difficult semester of my life, aside from Spring 2012 which started this whole adventure. After Spring Break, I got really sick and depressed and struggled to keep up with my jobs, my homework, and my classes. I felt like I was wading around in a thick quagmire and struggled to keep up. Somehow I succeeded and made the Dean's List for the second semester in a row, though just barely. My GPA was an abysmal 3.1 and brought my overall down to a 3.3 from it's previous 3.54. But I survived! And as a bonus and reward, I got to go home for the first time in almost a year!

Home was great. It was full of music, laughter, friends, and family and it was just what I needed to keep me going. There was so much BBQ and beer that I felt as if I was in Heaven, and by the end of the 10 days, I didn't want to come back. But I still have a job to do and it was for that reason, along with setting an example for my niece and nephews and making my family and friends proud, that I got on the plane.

When I got back, however, things didn't exactly go back to normal. The reason I expected to be able to go on vacation for so long was because I anticipated having hours at the pub to help me eat and pay rent. But it was 10 days before I got any hours at work. I spent my time working out and working at the Library to make up for it, and it didn't seem to be enough. I was in serious danger of missing rent.

Ever since I got my place back in September, I've never worried about making rent. I've worried about having the time to get to the bank to pay it on time, but I've never worried about having the money to pay. This was the first time in almost a year that I've worried about whether or not I would even have the money to keep my awesome roof over my head. It got to the point that last week I was having a panic attack over this fact, when I remembered to say my prayers and ask God for help and guidance. Sure enough, though I was already scheduled for two days at the pub that week, my 5 hour days turned into a 9.75 and 11.25 hour day respectively. I also got called in on Friday to cover a no-show. The tips from these days went straight into my bank and I continued to pray that I would make rent on time.

Today is payday, and guess what? My paycheck was 70 dollars more than I anticipated, meaning that I not only made rent on time, but I had $75 to spare, plus an extra $30 in cash. Tomorrow is Independence Day, and you know what I'm doing? I'm using that extra money to buy a 30-rack of cheap American beer, a new pair of khakis, and a sixer of good ol' California beer to celebrate. God has certainly blessed me this month, and if He ignores us the rest of the year, at least this week I shout GOD BLESS AMERICA! I love my country, I love this city, and I love what I'm capable of. God has blessed me with amazing friends and the ability to accomplish anything I set my mind to, and I am forever grateful. Now, time to drink some beer on my kick ass balcony.

A Marathon of Emotions

Yesterday was Patriots' Day in Massachusetts. It is an observance of the battles of Lexington and Concord and the Patriotic Spirit that is embodied by the people and places of the State of Massachusetts. It is observed on the third Monday of every April, and it is a school holiday, Marathon Monday, and overall a huge celebration in the city of Boston. It is a day when the spirit of Bostonians and New Englanders comes alive with camaraderie and joviality.

And yesterday this spirit was attacked.

I was at work when it happened. I was inside a loud Pub listening to drunk people and crappy music, stepping all over the new bussers, colliding with Hostesses and servers and cleaning up after everyone and their mothers. Yet I was able to watch the shift in attitude as the news began to pour in. The TVs in the Pub were all broadcasting the Red Sox game and the Marathon, so when the bombs went off at the finish line, everyone saw it. I think some on the patio might have even heard it.

At first they didn't know what it was. The band got back on stage and made an announcement that there was an explosion and that they thought it might have been a sewer pipe that caught a spark and burst. They urged the patrons to keep calm and enjoy the music. But we soon found out that it wasn't the sewers. When the doctors started pulling ball bearings out of people, it was clear that this was a planned and coordinated attack. The type of explosives used were deemed by police as amateur and unsophisticated, the equivalent of a shrapnel propelling pipe bomb. The simplicity of such a device makes it unlikely that this was a foreign attack by a major terrorist cell, but a domestic attack by someone who knew Boston well.

I am unwilling to make my speculations public, as I am not trained in investigative techniques, nor do I have all the evidence. However, I do know that yesterday I felt like a Bostonian. I felt that this city I love and have come to call my home was finally accepting of me. When Barack Obama made his statement in support of our city I felt that he was speaking for us, not them. When he called Boston a tough and resilient city, I felt tough and resilient. I was disgusted by the people who were making jokes of the bombings before the smoke had even cleared. I was more disgusted by the kitchen staff worker who was laughing at the marathon runners knocked down by the explosions. When I stopped to think about the events of yesterday, I realized that had I not been working, I would have been near either the Marathon explosions or the JFK bomb. The JFK Presidential Library and Museum is located on the same peninsula as my University, I often look at it while I study. Had I not been at work, I would likely have been either in my school's library writing a paper, or at a bar near the marathon finish line, watching my first Boston Marathon. But because it was a holiday, and I didn't have school, I requested the day to work. Requested. And work was the best place I could have been.

I thank God for watching over me and I pray that He watches over the families of those hurt and killed. I thank Him for my friends and family who care for me and care for my well being  And I pray for the people who did this because when the people of Boston find out who's responsible for this act, only God will be able to save them.

My Year of Living Adventurously

It has been one year since I started this blog. One year since my journey began. Looking back, a lot has changed. I have changed. One year ago the State of California was taking away everything I had. I was single, I was depressed, I was lost. I needed a change, and it took the ground being torn out from under me to force me to take the leap.

In the last year I have become a new man. I am no longer the terrified kid that left California with 80 bucks and a dream. I'm wiser, stronger, harder, better looking, more confident. I have seen a new part of the world and I've seen what I'm made of. I have had some of the best experiences of my life, and felt some of the most excruciating pain, as well. I have experienced what it feels like to love a place so completely, but dread it because the people you love the most aren't there to share it with you.

I've found out a lot about who I am, and been devastated when people I thought I knew turned out to be very different than how I thought they were. The distance has caused me to drift apart from some, while bringing me closer to others. I have learned who my true friends are, and who I don't want to be. I have learned that I am far more intelligent than I once thought, and my work ethic is a rare diamond in the rough. I know now that I am an amazing individual and very good at many things, some of it naturally, some of it through hard work. I've learned that it's easy to do what's easy, even when it doesn't make you happy, and extremely hard to take a chance, even if it will change your life. If you can make that leap, the gain is worth the risk.

I have learned that by following your heart, you will find your self. When I left Arcata, I was a scared kid, who was chasing a dream, but also running from his problems. In the last year I have found my dream, and solved my problems. I have gotten lost, and once again found myself. I have learned that when doors are closed to you, it gives you a chance to enjoy the view for a while, and then you can open another that leads you to a better place. I have learned that love is an amazing thing that can keep you going when you otherwise want to give up. There have been many times where I just wanted to hop on a flight back home, to stop this silly adventure and go back to the way things were. But love kept me going. The love my friends and family have for me. The love I have for them. The love I have for Boston, and history, and hard work, and perseverance. I learned that love can bridge the gap of thousands of miles and bring friends closer together. Love can show you the important things in life. 

I now know what I want out of life and I have an idea of how I will spend it, who the people I love are, and who love me. Life is too short to waste on someone who means nothing, or who means something but is poison for your morals and your soul. Life should be lived through love. Love for adventure. Love for a woman. Love for life. I have learned who and what I love, and I'm not going to waste my life on anything else. I will not stop until I've achieved my loves, and when I have them, I will continue to nourish them. Life moves pretty fast. I'll be damned if I miss anymore of it. Carpe Diem, lads, Carpe Diem.

Time for an Update

I realized today that I haven't written anything in my blog for 2013. Somehow I've been occupied and not too optimistic about this year. It didn't exactly start off well. New Years night I went out with my coworkers without eating anything since before my shift started. As a result  drank like I used to and got "wicked shitfaced." I got choked out, threw up on my coworker's bedroom floor, passed out on the subway for three hours, and lost my glasses. Yep. I LOST MY GLASSES! I have been wearing spectacles since I was twelve years old. In the thirteen years since my first pair I have NEVER lost them. Broken, yes, but not severely. Scratched, all the time. But never ever lost. Imagine my embarrassment then and how much I had to hate myself when I had to wander around the city of Boston without my glasses. It took me a month to get them. I finally received my financial aid check and paid off my credit card and bought new glasses.
I dropped over a month's rent on both.
I tried to save what was left for as long as I could. But on Monday my company had our Holiday party in which we had free food and an open bar. The open bar had Dogfishhead 60 Minute. On draft. For free. And as much whiskey as I could drink. One word:

HAMMERED.

I don't remember what is in my hand. I thought it was beer. I guess I was mistaken.

Anyway, somewhere along the lines, my already failing computer took it's last straw and broke. It was already on its way out so instead of saving some dough for my vacation to Humboldt this summer, I had to buy a new one. There goes another month's rent. Then the prices of plane tickets began to rise, forcing my hand and causing me to buy tickets now instead of waiting until March like I had hoped. So now I'm broke.
Anyway, that's how my 2013 is going. I look forward to seeing my friends and family in May, but until now I'll try to stay alive. This is really just a taste of my misfortune so far. There's some good stuff too. My classes are going well. I think. Lots of reading. Anyway. I'l stop now. Happy February. And 2013

This One's For the Men That Raised Me, Taught Me Sacrifice and Bravery

I love tattoos. They're expensive, but really cool. I love the art style, I love the symbolism, I love almost everything about them. The first tattoo I got back on the first day of the 40th Reunion was of my own design. I forgot how much fun I had designing tattoos and putting stories into images until I heard a new song by the Boston band Dropkick Murphys from their new album coming out in January called Signed and Sealed in Blood. The song is called "Rose Tattoo" and before I explain the rest you should watch the video. I'll wait.

It's so awesome! I've been listening to this virtually non stop for days now. Its lyrics brought back inspiration when I thought I was finished with drawing and wouldn't pick up my pencil again for anything but historical research. I think God knew this was coming because a few days before I found this song my mom sent me a package with a drawing tablet and a pack of my favorite pencils: Dixon Ticonderoga black number 2s. Then I heard this song and remembered how much I love drawing tattoos. Many of the lyrics spoke out to me and I decided to design tattoos for different parts/people in my life. The lyrics that inspired the tattoo I want your input on is the one that go:

this one's for the man that raised me

taught me sacrifice and bravery

and

this one's for my family name

with pride I'll wear it to the grave

I grew up in a small town of 8,000 people, a county of 30,000. I only knew one guy who was Irish, and I only assumed I was Irish. My family has been in America since before the Revolution, and though Hale is an Irish name, and I have an Irish temper, and I have red hair in my beard, and I like whiskey, and I love mandolin and bagpipes, I never had any real proof of my heritage. When I moved to Boston, I had a Boston Irish coworker recognize me as being Irish and confirm that I fit the profile to a T. I can't even begin to explain how cool that was. Hence the Celtic/Boston theme of the tattoo.

There are two men in my life whom I consider to have raised me. Growing up, my dad was never around much so it fell to my big brother Eric and my Pastor Larry to teach me morals and impart wisdom onto the confused and angry kid that I was. I chose the Celtic Cross for Larry, and the words around the edge for Eric. The cross as a compass and the points are for both of them.

When I left Humboldt, Eric gave me a little black Moleskine guidebook of Boston. I carry this with me everywhere, and even though I don't need it as much as I did, it has helped me find places I wouldn't have otherwise been able to get to. In the very front of the book he wrote a Celtic blessing that I placed around the edge of the cross. It goes something like this:

May the Everlasting Father Shield You

East and West Wherever You Go

In the last conversation I had with Larry, he reminded me to remember that God led me here and to continue using him as a compass when times got tough. I almost forgot that a number of times, but I had help remembering. Because of Eric's blessing, and Larry's words, I wanted to make the cross as a compass with the four directions. The cross is the Everlasting Father as my compass and Shield, and the four points for east and west wherever you go.  The letters of the compass are written in the font of the Boston Red Sox. I chose this font for several reasons. One is the color. I want the whole thing to be black except for the NSEW and the rose in the middle, all of which will be red. Another is implied in the lyric

taught me sacrifice and bravery. 

Moving to Boston took the most courage and required more sacrifice than anything at this point in my life. I could not have done it without the encouragement and the lessons of sacrifice and bravery I learned from Eric and Larry.

The rose in the middle is a tribute to the song that inspired me. Plus, I really like tattoo roses and finally found a way to get one without it looking weird or feminine. 

So here it is, as done as it's going to get for now. If anyone has any suggestions, please feel free to send them to me.

With A Little Help From My Friends....

So here it is: late December 2012. I have been in Boston for five and a half months, have completed my first semester at the University of Massachusetts, and I have overcome every hurdle along the way. I have learned what I'm made of and I'm a more confident and responsible individual than the scared kid that left California back in July. I have two jobs, a home, and a 3.5 GPA. For all the progress I've made, though, I would not have been able to go through with it were it not for the support of my friends and family.

First off I'd like to thank Kathy. Despite the direction our relationship has taken in recent months, when I first came to Boston, she was extremely supportive when I was stressing out about where to live and how I was going to eat.

Next I'd like to mention my big brother Eric, who knows me well enough to use the precise key words at the exact right moment to keep me going when I was ready to come home and call it quits. It was through his urging me to keep living my American Dream and stay in Boston for at least a year that gave me the renewed energy to find housing right when I was ready to give up.

Thirdly I would like to throw a huge, gigantic, enormous THANK YOU out to my good friend, one of the best I know, Megan McTavish, who helped me find strength in God and the Bible when I was at my weakest, and who reminded me to find enjoyment in my new life in Boston and loosen my death grip on what I left behind. Without her, I'd still be desperately homesick and counting down the days until I could go back to Humboldt. Instead, I'm loving my life and my pursuits out here, and though I do miss friends and family back home, I know I made the right decision to follow my dream and come to Boston.

Last to be mentioned before I call it a night/morning, but certainly not the least, is Chris and Melinda. It's getting cold here in Boston, tomorrow we're supposed to have a snow storm, and these guys sent me a scarf and a pair of long johns to keep me warm this winter. I'd never been so happy to get underwear for Christmas in my entire life!

I know I didn't mention half of you, and the half I did mention didn't get half of what you deserve, but I hope that all my friends who may see this know that I would not be the success that I am were it not for your love and support. I hope to see you guys someday soon. Until then, thank you, and I look forward to making you all proud.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I've been putting this off all day. I was inspired when I woke up, but what I wanted to reference wasn't near by, so I started watching Mad Men. Then I went to go get pizza and watch more Mad Men. Then I called my family after I finished all the seasons of Mad Men currently available on Netflix. Then I drank some water and read some history of some Dropkick Murphys songs, and now I'm inspired to write this again. There is less than 30 minutes left of Thanksgiving left in Boston. I plan on making it worth it.

Last night at work, one of the bouncers commented that he didn't understand why it was socially unacceptable for someone to dress up as Hitler for Halloween. Don't get me wrong, he understood that Hitler was a maniac that committed unforgivable genocide. But his question was, "why is it okay if I dress up as a pilgrim, but not Adolf Hitler?" That's a very good question, really. The simple answer is that Nazi Germany, and Hitler, were defeated by a more "enlightened" and "civilized" world (we're neither of those things, by the way, but that's a whole other essay). It's true that within fifty years of first contact, over ninety percent of the indigenous population of New England died, largely at the hands of the European invaders. The story of the first Thanksgiving is a story that began with a standoff. The Wampanoag society had suffered from some great calamity, probably disease (this portion is taken from Charles C. Mann's 1491. He doesn't specify the nature of the calamity), and was under threat of annihilation by their rival nation to the west, the Narragansett. When the Wampanoag sachem (political/military leader) Massasoit revealed his strength to the Puritans, they ran to their fortifications in which they had cannon installed. A series of negotiations ensued, in which Massasoit utilized his English translator Tisquantum (commonly called Squanto) and struck an alliance with the Puritans that would deter the Narragansett Nation from wiping out the Wampanoag. Though this alliance insured the immediate survival of the Wampanoag, it also insured the survival of the Plymouth Colony as a foothold for further British settlement in the region, which would lead to further genocide, and eventually through a series of taxes and a war or two, the United States of America, which, from day one was out to punish the indigenous peoples (ask me about the Cherokee after the Revolution).

Now, back to my original intro about my coworker and Hitler. Yes, Hitler lost, and he was a horrible person that is thankfully rotting in Hell. But do you know where he got the model for his Final Solution? United States President Andrew Jackson and his Indian Removal Policy. The Reservation programs and removal acts all set the foundation and model for Adolf Hitler to exterminate the Jewish people in Europe. That's our legacy, folks. One of our Presidents inspired one of the world's most sadistic madmen. Go us. So here's something I'm thankful for on this Thanksgiving 2012: our schools are teaching these things now. The classical narrative of the Kindly Indian and Thankful Puritans is fading, and the cold, hard, painful reality is sinking in. I love my country, and I am proud as hell to be an American. But we're not perfect. We aren't the greatest country in the world. In fact, we're far from it. But knowing that is what's going to save us and make us better. I'm thankful to be an American, and I hope you all are too. I'm thankful for you guys and all of your support.

Happy Thanksgiving!