1. Stages of fatherhood. First, you’re a jungle gym. Then you’re a mediator. And then you’re an ATM.
2. Isn’t religion just the middleman that takes a cut every time you pray?
3. BFF shouldn’t be used for anyone who hasn’t helped you move a body.
4. I’m surprised child services hasn’t taken Dora the Explorer into protective custody.
5. I want to start a goth dance venue called the Baby Seal.
6. Work is an irrational interruption to one’s private life.
7. Shallow people often confuse obscure with deep.
8. There’s something completely liberating about accepting the fact that most of the world couldn’t care less you exist.
9. Just because you’re talented and special doesn’t obligate the universe to acknowledge this in anyway.
10. Life is like sex. If the answer to “how’s it going?” is “it’s complicated”, you’re probably doing it wrong.
11. The word “fondle” can’t be used in any sentence with positive connotations. I don’t think you can fondle anything without being creepy.
12. Sometimes, whatever it takes is alot.
13. Everything has an expiration date. Saving yourself for marriage at 20 is commendable. Saving yourself for marriage at 60, not so much.
14. If you’re an English major and haven’t figured out that only poets read poets, you’re in for a surprise.
15. I don’t get the phrase, “Happiness is the best revenge.” Shouldn’t you have gotten over it my now?
16. Dead people are gullible. “You can only speak through me. Your son want to know where you hid the money?” doesn’t work with live people.
17. Michael Cera is the new Molly Ringwald.
18. If your movie has a 5 minutes exposition at the end explaining what happened the previous 90 minutes, it sucks no matter what anyone says. I’m looking at you Vanilla Sky.
19. Minority Report would have been a better movie if Tom Cruise’s character died at the end which pretty much can be said about any of his movies really.
20. If they called them Sad Meals then kids wouldn’t buy them.
21. I use to know everything. Now I don’t know anything. Senility is full of surprises.
22. When someone tells me it’s as easy as pie, I always have to clarify if they mean pie or pi. Neither of which seem that easy.
23. It’s never good when a friend suggests an activity followed by the words “What’s the worse that could happen?”
24. Late notices are just society’s way of telling you to stop play World of Warcraft for awhile.
25. The problem with the MySpace mood update is that there’s no setting for ironic or ambivalent.
26. Liking something mainstream and popular doesn’t make you cool. Hating it doesn’t make you cool either.
27. The reason I don’t talk to dogs or gods is because you’re considered psychotic if they decide to talk back.
28. A typo is just your brains way of saying your grammar needs work. Either that or type slower.
29. I will never forgive Twilight for associating Super Massive Blackhole with sparkly vampires playing baseball.
30. Sex with the light off shouldn’t be allowed until you can find your way around with the lights on.
31. Now that I’m older, I wish my favorite bands would sell Daytimers instead of t-shirts.

I call it glam goth: Adam Lambert at the the American Music Awards, Lady Gaga’s photoshoot for Out magazine, Miley Cyrus in black eyeliner, Rihanna in a hasp collar, and sparkly vampires. Peter Murphy’s cameo in New moon is a long way from the opening scene of the Hunger. Bela Legosi really is dead. Goth is dead. Long live the new goth.

The gothsters (hipsters but wearing vinyl and platform heels) moan and groan that it’s not really goth. That it’s faux-goth. It’s surface level goth like Rihanna’s little foray into fetish wear in her Disturbia video.

Goth is much deeper and more meaningful like the Cure’s Lovecats.

Besides, goth isn’t fashion. It’s about the music. Of course, that music ranges from early darkwave to industrial to it’s current EBM/electropop phase. It’s goth if it gets played in at goth clubs? I guess this means Nirvana was goth for the 2 years the deejays overplayed Smells Like Teens Spirits.

Goth has always been about the exploration and acceptance of the darker nature of things. Who’s to say one person’s search is more valid than another’s?

The current economy coupled with the realization that some things will never be fixed is getting the mainstream to take a hard look at the Yin. Goth isn’t doom-and-gloom. Goth is the permission to look at those things that balance the light.

With the success of New Moon, which almost made more than the new Batman on opening weekend, Hollywood is repackaging goth (NCIS, the Vampire Diaries, Interview with a Vampire remake with Robert Downey Jr.) as I’m writing this. Last weekend, my friend Brad brought his corporate co-workers to one of the goth nights. The mainstream is flocking to see what the fuss is about.

It’s nice to see people learn to play in the dark. Just as long as it’s not slit-your-wrist dark because that would be emo and that’s faux-goth, too.

A few days ago at Milk Bar, someone came up to me and said they liked watching me dance. It was the second time in a week. And even though neither time involved large bills and a pole, I chose to interpret them as compliments anyway.

Dance is a big part of my life. For that, I blame a girl. Tiffany stood me up on a fateful Wednesday 18 years ago. I can’t remember the name of bar, but they had alternative nights on Wednesdays. I waited 30 minutes and was just about to leave when Blister in the Sun started playing.

I liked Tiffany. It had taken months to work up the nerve to ask her out. When she didn’t show, it was just another let down in a long line of disappointments. I didn’t want to be alone and so I went to the crowded dance floor. I had nothing to lose so I danced.

Before that night, I had danced only once, in junior high, when a friend asked me at the last school dance. The deejay was playing Bryan Adams. Yes, my first dance was to Bryan Adam’s Heaven and I’ve since learned to live with it.

Seven years later, I found myself doing who knows what to the Violent Femmes. I have these horrible images of me doing some version of the Elaine dance from Seinfeld. I’ve blacked out that part. However, I remember a feeling of release once I started dancing. Of letting all the crap in my life melt out of my body as music filled it. There wasn’t room for both.

From that moment I was a club kid. For a period of four years, I was dancing 4-6 night a week often driving to Denver and Boulder to get my dance fix. When I say I went dancing, I mean I went to dance. Often as soon as I walked in, I would put my coat on the nearest empty chair and go immediately to the dance floor and stay there the entire night, all three plus hours, leaving maybe once or twice to get a drink of water.

Dance means different things to different people. Some people dance to impress. Some dance for release. But for some, dance is expression. It’s a way to let go of the thoughts and doubts bouncing through the synapses. Dance is a way of saying this is me–the good, bad, ugly, cheesy, strange, bent, broken, needy, giving, oxymoronic, dichotomous me.

You have to be willing to accept certain amount vulnerability when you let dance express the real you. In that vulnerability, there’s a joy that opens inside of you. People react positively to that openness and are more willing to give you a compliment because in giving that compliment they become vulnerable too.

Not everyone dances to express, but I’m starting to notice the ones who do. Somewhere I had lost this part of my dancing. I’m finding it again in myself and others. So when I come up to you and say, I think you’re a great dancer, I’m also saying thanks for sharing.

I’ve never liked those birthday posts that were thinly veiled brag letters so I decided to write my birthday post as a Mad Lib template that can be used for all future boasting.

Dear friends,

So much has happened over the last year, you wouldn’t believe that I   am trying to make it sound that I did more than eat, sleep and work (accomplishment) .

But let’s start at the beginning. With family. My  two (number) children are amazing.  I love them so much because  I’m hoping their successes negate my failures (reason you love them).  They’ve grown so much over the last year.

My 1st (1st/2nd/etc)  daughter (son/daughter) has learned to turn on the tv & DVD player by herself (accomplishment.)

My  2nd (1st/2nd/etc)  daughter (son/daughter) has learned to not pee her pants for the most part (accomplishment.)

My (1st/2nd/etc) (son/daughter) has learned to (accomplishment.)

My (1st/2nd/etc) (son/daughter) has learned to (accomplishment.)

My wife (wife/husband/SO/booty call) has  put up with me for another year (accomplishment) which is awesome and I completely support her every step of the way.

As for myself, I’ll be brief and list my top for highlights from the last year:

1.   Got a raise.
2.  Went on vacation.
3.  Bought something really expensive .
4.  Tried to make the above sound cooler than when other people do it .

However, most of all I want to be thankful for how wonderful and how perfect and what absolute dream come true my life has been. I’m most thankful that I didn’t get downsized in current economy (reason).

I hope this post doesn’t come across as bragging. I just wanted to catch everyone up on what I’ve been doing for the last year. I hope your lives have been just as wonderful and I’m wishing you all the very best.

Sincerely,

Corin

P.S. – I’m so doing one of these Mad Libs for those Christmas letters that I get every year.

There’s a certain amount of elitism and entitlement mentality that comes with the “creative class” which I find disheartening.

I want to talk about web design and writing.  I’ve been paid to web design for over 10 years.  I want to get paid for writing.

I’m the first person to tell you that anyone can create a website.  Whether that website will be effective and produce desired results is a different matter.  This is how I feel about writing.  Anyone can write, but whether it’s crap or not depends on the skill and experience of the writer. 

When you pay someone else with more skill to write or design a website, you’re paying for a service.  Even though you end up with a finished product like a website or a page of copy, what you’re actually paying for is the skill and materials it takes to produce that product.

Services are calculated at an hourly rate.

If you’re a writer, how much should your the hourly rate be?  $25/hour?  $100/hr?

The simple answer is as high as you can sell your services.

Web design projects are not paid by the hour, but they are calculated by the hour.  The designer gives the client a quote for the site design. Most good designers I know can finish a comp (design composition) in 20 hours plus another 2-10 hours for client changes.  That’s 22-30 hours of work.  The designers I know charge between $40-$60/hour which means they quote the finished design at $880-$1800.

The most important part about what these designers charge is their sales skill.  Clients don’t randomly email saying, hey, I’ll pay you $1800 for design work.  They are successful designers because they are able to find clients and sell their skills at that price.

So how much do I want to be paid for writing?  I write slow.  Maybe 200/words per hour.  If some magazine or website is paying 10 cents/word.  That works out to be $20/hour.  I know many, many people who would be ecstatic at making $20/hour. I’d be ecstatic if someone paid an unpublished newbie like me $20/hour.  Here’s the rub.  It’s called competition.  There are thousands of better and more experienced writers clamoring to be paid .10/word that I would be competing against.

The “creative class” tends to ignore competition.  There’s a “I deserve to be paid what I value myself at” mentality.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with valuing your skills highly.  Thinking everyone else should value your skills just as highly because you say so smacks of elitism.

I think many artists confuse value and price.  Competition brings the price of goods and services down to it’s marginal costs.

I love my mp3 player.  I figure over the last 4 years, my mp3 player has saved me $400 or more in time and convenience.  $400 is the value I place on it.  I need a new mp3 player, but I’m certainly not paying $400 for one.  Competition prices an mp3 player between $60-$200 depending on brand and bells and whistles.

Just because an artist values their work at $100/hour doesn’t mean competition isn’t going to drive that price down to marginal costs.  Marginal costs being the least amount an artist is willing to be paid and still make a profit.  Sometimes that price is zero and the marginal cost of creating the work is paid in terms of prestige or exposure.

This is why many high traffic blogs pay ZERO, nada, zilch.  Competition has driven the price down to zero.  These blogs attract writers willing to be paid nothing to be published because the writers feel that they can make up their marginal cost (time spent research and writing) by leveraging the exposure into something else they can monetize.

Also, I think artists overvalue the content and undervalue the distribution.  It’s the “these sites would be nothing without the writers” attitude.  These high traffic blogs didn’t create their readership and community overnight.  Telling someone how they should run their business, i.e. you should pay writers, after the thousands of hours the blog owners spent to build their business is just entitlement mentality.  I’m entitled to be paid by you because your company makes money.

Of course, these sites need writers.  They just don’t need writers that want to be paid in dollars. If an writer wants to be paid, don’t write for blogs or magazines that don’t pay. 

I don’t do spec work.  However, I don’t berate my fellow designers for doing spec work.  If they want to spend their time on a gamble to be paid, that’s their business decision. Telling other writers they shouldn’t write for free because it devalues writing is saying you don’t know how to compete in the marketplace.

But doesn’t free work drive the marginal cost of what I do to zero? Only if you consider those doing free work your direct competition. I don’t consider designers doing spec work my competition. It doesn’t effect how much I charge for my services in the slightest.

It seems like many artists feel that marketing and selling are four letters words.  Marketers fall somewhere between puddle slime and any movie starring Tom Green.  It’s beneath them.  They’re artists after all.

Regular people have to do it all the time when they go to interviews to get that job as a garbage collector or rocket scientist.   A job interview is nothing more than selling your skill, experience and attitude to an employer willing to pay you.

If you want to be paid more, find someone who’s willing to pay you more.  Whether you’re a photographer, writer or web designer, someone has to pay you.  The business of making money from your art is finding that someone who’s willing to pay you the amount you want to be paid.

Hey wait a second, general employment is about finding someone to pay you what you want to be paid for the work you want to do.  Regular people do it all the time.  If regular people can do it, so can artists.

I love my new phone.  It’s an LG enV3 and it’s freakishly small like my hands.  Now, I know what you’re thinking.  How can you do anything fun with something so tiny.  Well, it does get bigger.  It folds open to a full keyboard.

Also, it fits comfortably in my pocket.  I could have gotten an iPhone or a Blackberry to give my pants a nice comment-inducing bulge, but I’m practical.  I go dancing often, and it’s not pleasant to have something big and hard bouncing around down there when you dance.  And though I’m happy to see my friends, I didn’t want them wondering if that was a phone in my pocket when I hugged them.

I must admit that I do get a little envious when I see someone playing with their iPhone in public.  They hold it out and caress it and and sometimes give their phones cute pet names.  Also, they can make their phones do all sorts of tricks like browsing and downloading apps.  They all seem so happy giving their iPhones a nice shake.

Phone envy is so unattractive, and maybe I should have gotten a phone that does nifty tricks, but I’m a one device one function kind of guy.  I don’t need my phone to play mp3s or hack SkyNet.   I call.  I text.  Occasionally, I take a photo.  It’s not fancy, but I do those things really well.  However, I’m still experimenting with Twitterpics and making my own ring tones.  I don’t want things to get stale.

When I tell people about my new phone, I find it annoying when people want to play the my-phone-is-better-than-your-phone game.  They whip out their phone and start fumbling with it, commenting on how easy it is to find directions to that great spot before realizing they don’t know which buttons to press.   Hey, I’m more than willing to give you bragging rights, but you better know how to use what you’ve got.

Now, I know what you’re thinking.  Am I any good with what I’ve got?  Can I hammer a six inch spike through a board with my phone?

Well, not right now.

Dear Single Friends,

I feel blessed and lucky to have so many single friends because I can live vicariously through your stories.  Your stories are exciting.  I am married and therefore boring.  I can’t remember the last time I woke up on a strange floor without my pants and my recollection of the last 8 hours.  Like I said, I’m boring.

My naked stories usually involve getting peed on and a diaper change.  Come to think of it, your stories involve getting peed on and a diaper change.  However, my 2 year old does it for free which doesn’t make my story as interesting.

I’m grateful that you try to include me in spur-of-the-moment outings, but I am married and have lost all capacity for spontaneity.

Earlier today, a single friend invited me to go dancing with him tonight.  I told him “I’m busy with kid stuff” and needed more than 3 hours notice.  I say “I’m busy with kid stuff” often, but it’s true.  Really.  It’s not an excuse.

I don’t elaborate on what “kid stuff” entails and this might lead you, my single friends, into interpreting “I’m busy with kid stuff” as a brush off.  It’s not.  I don’t talk about my kids because I like that you are my friends, and I know your eyes will glaze over like a Christmas ham the first time I say the words “diaper genie”.

However, in order to clear up any misunderstanding, I’ve put together this short FAQ.

Why don’t you return my text message more promptly?

Most likely, at the time of  your message, I was explaining to my 6 year old why she shouldn’t draw on her 2 year old sister.  This actually takes quite a bit of time because one answer begets more questions like, why don’t you just wash her later?  Which leads to more questions like, why is your inconvenience in bathing my sister a second time more important than my need for self-expression?

These questions have to be answered carefully or else the questions spin out of control eventually leading to:

1. If the Jewish don’t believe in Jesus, does this mean they all go to hell?

or

2. Why do you and mommy have handcuffs?

Both of which, I’m unprepared to answer at this time.

Why can’t you nap the kids earlier/later?

You know how some people get cranky in the morning without their coffee.  Well, my kids don’t like the taste of coffee.  Also, coffee stains are a pain to get out of a sippy cup.

My youngest when she’s off schedule has been known to scream for 3 hour straight.

I’m sure you single guys have had an ex-girlfriend at some point in your life who just got pissy and would whine at you for hours.  It’s just like that if your ex shit her pants, puked down the front of her shirt and ran around the house refusing a change of clothes.

How come you don’t know if you will make it to my event even though I’ve given you a month’s notice?

At random times, my oldest daughter desperately needs me to sit quietly in the corner of her room and listen to her for hours as she tells me about the new rock she found and how she thinks it’s magical and will summon unicorns when she falls asleep.  I don’t know how I know, but if at that moment I do not sit there, she will either take up stripping or serial killing.

Yes, I would love meet you at the strip club for your bachelor party as long as I know my daughter won’t be there at some future date, trying to put herself through med school.  Yes, it’s very hypocritical of me.

What are you so busy doing that you can’t come out before 9pm?

1.  Kids smell.  The school has told us not to bring the kids to class if the smell persists.  Unfortunately, bathing is a temporary solution.  The smell comes back so we have to keep doing it.

2.  Kids are messy.  All the parenting magazines say that we should feed and clothe our kids.  Who knew?  This leads to dishes and laundry.

3.  My kids eventually get bored of watching movies so they insist I read to them, take them to parks and interact with them like the real dad’s they see in the movies.  I really should pay more attention to what they watch.  Note to self:  more movies with explosions.

Hopefully, this explains to you why I’m such a dullard and I hope to see you out on my regularly scheduled dancing night.

Sincerely,

Corin

Slash.  Speaking of guitarists.  My wife is reading various heavy metal biographies for her book.  She’s currently reading Slash’s book.  He played guitar for “Black or White” on the Dangerous album.   Slash has also done a few special appearances on several award shows and concerts playing guitar for “Beat It“, “Billy Jean” and of course, “Black or White”.

Wade Robson.  On Wednesdays, I watch So You Think You Can Dance.  I love, love, love that show.  Each week, I’m hoping that this will be one of the weeks that Wade Robson choreographs a piece.  Sorry Mia Michaels, but Wade Robson is my favorite choreographer on that show.

Wade’s dance career started at 4 when he did a dance routine to “Smooth Criminal” with the full outfit for an Australian TV talent show.  Subsequently, he got invited to perform at the Brisbane leg of the Bad Tour.  Several years later, at age 8, he appeared on America’s Star Search dancing to “The Way You Make Me Feel“.

Wade career kicked into high gear as a teenager, dancing and choreographing for pretty much every pop princess and boy band with a dance routine.  Amazing dancer as he is, Wade’s is godlike as a choreographer and still heavily influenced by his early career.

Al Yankovic.  Yesterday on Twitter, Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman mentioned that Al Yankovic showed up at Amanda’s concert that they met Al for the first time.  Whenever I hear Al’s name, I’m reminded of all the times I heard Al’s Eat It and Fat parodies on the Dr. Demento show when I was growing up.

The moonwalk.  So I was rewatching Hamlet 2 last Saturday.  Hilarious.  The movie climaxes with the Rock Me Sexy Jesus number.  I’m not linking to it because you have to watch the entire movie which builds up to that scene.   In the middle of  that number, Steve Coogan, who’s playing Jesus, does the moonwalk on water.

You’ll be missed Michael.

I truly sucked at going to college.  I skipped classes.  I skimmed novels the night before in order to write B minus papers due in the morning.  Mostly, I couldn’t figure out why the hell I was paying for D&D all-nighters a BA in English Lit I couldn’t afford. I didn’t go back the next semester.

Instead of stretching my mind and my limits of alcohol consumption in academia, I began the vastly lucrative and oh so rewarding career in concession services at a movie theater.  Most of my fellow employees were college students.  To them, serving popcorn was a temporary sentence.  They didn’t commit any egregious life choice crimes requiring labels like single mother, college dropout or manager, who was treated like a lifer with no possibility of parole.

The problem with being a dropout is the space on job applications for schooling and subsequent questions during interviews.  I didn’t have a cool story like my parents were irradiated in a nuclear fission accident and I quit school to care for their horribly mutated bodies.  So I mumbled stuff about getting life experience because that sounded better than loser who couldn’t hack it.

Here’s life experience for you:

• No degree, no customer service experience, no marketable skills – your job requires making change for people..alot.

• No degree, some customer experience, no marketable skills – your job requires either saying how may I direct your call or it requires you to wear pieces of flair.

• No degree, some customer experience, and the ability to type 80 word a minute – your job requires picking up dry cleaning after normal work hours for someone making 10 times your pay.

Socially, twenty-something dropouts become 3rd world yokels who’ve immigrated to the promise land.  Your peers, though happy for you, assume certain words and phrases are beyond your comprehension like Bukowski or beer pong.  I was among them but separate.  They had classes in the morning.  I had to put on a name tag.

I tried returning to the fold by taking an extension course.  That was college suckage at a whole new self-esteem crushing level.  The 200 level Poetry class with the “real” poets required submitting writing samples.  I got turned down.  I ended up in the 100 level Intro to Creative Writing for Losers and Students Wanting An Easy A.  I stopped taking classes after that.

It wasn’t until several years later, that I learned to be okay with it.  I’d recently moved to Denver.  My temp agency sent me to Charles Shwabb to become a quoter, a rep that took calls and quoted stock prices to customers.  One of my co-workers just graduated with her English degree and $40K of debt, half of which were on credit cards.  We were making $8/hour.

Eventually, I did learned some marketable skills.  No wait.  Being able to play World of Warcraft for 32 hours on nothing but Funyuns and Diet Coke isn’t marketable?  Crap.

As for the poetry, about two years after my rejection from that Poetry course and about 20+ rejections from various lit mags later, I got something in the mail.

That’s Bukowski’s poem on page 39.  I’m on page 82.

Too bad that isn’t marketable either.  Double crap.

My friend Clarice dresses in the skimpiest outfits when she goes dancing. She’s looks incredibly hot and so I’ve told her equally handsome, down-to-earth, one of the coolest guys in the world husband who dresses like he stepped out of a J Crew catalog.

Yes, I know the photos are a completely gratuitous attempt to spice up my blog with the sexy girl showing skin cliché. But hey, who am I to reinvent the wheel? All blogs need a little sex appeal and my fat ass certainly isn’t going to provide that.

(Side note: I’m eating Ben & Jerry’s ice cream while I’m writing this.)

Last night, a group of us celebrated her 23rd birthday. Clarice has had many 23rd birthday over the years and that’s just the way she likes it.

I met her dancing a few years ago through friends because the Denver alternative crowd is pretty small and eventually you meet everyone. I’m glad I did. She’s the only club person I know who knows how to lindy hop, and we have a blast swing dancing to the Cure’s Love Cats.

I’ve never heard her say a bad word about anyone..ever. She’s unassuming, bubbly, charming, funny, generous and modest and that’s why her friends universally adore her. She’s is nicest person that I know.

After dancing, she and her hubby hosted a movie night. On her birthday at 2am, she’s serving food, making sure everyone has drinks, showing people how to work the recliners and getting blankets and pillows so the people on the floor would be comfortable. All the while, everyone’s telling her to sit down and relax because we had already raided her fridge for frozen pizza and drinks as soon as we arrived. That’s what you get when you invite drunk people to your house in early hours.

Most of all, I admire her. She isn’t the type of person who defines herself by playing hostess to a bunch of inebriated guests in her family room which is roughly the size of my house, or being doting wife to a wonderful and successful husband.

She’s the type of person who defines herself by working 30 hour shifts in the Intensive Care Unit as a resident physician of one of the best hospitals in the city.

Happy birthday, Clarice! I hope your thirty-f twenty-third year will be spectacular.