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There was this girl who was a classmate of mine from first grade through senior year in high school. She had an unusual, but beautiful first name. We were friendly, but we didn’t anything socially outside of the classroom. Our relationship was based on the activities between the brick walls of the school building.

She was very important to me. She was my class competitor.

During math class, if I didn’t raise my hand up in time to answer a question, she would get there first. We competed for awards. We each won numerous “Citizen of the Month,” citations. We always compared test scores, secretly wishing the other to flounder. We tried to outdo the other in the number of books we read per year. When I was picked to make the commencement speech at graduation in elementary school, she became the class president in junior high. We were both the literary editors of the high school yearbook. At the end of the senior year of high school, the school “ranked” all the seniors according to their grade point average. I beat her by one point; it was a very satisfying victory.

My parents were never the pushy parents who told me to succeed at any cost. I just enjoyed school. It was this girl, ambitious and super-focused, who forced me to step up my game.

We lost touch the minute we attended college. I hadn’t heard from her for years, until, well, no surprise — Facebook. I was excited, and nervous, to reconnect with her. We had a polite exchange of messages, but nothing very intimate. I think we were both too shy to have any real conversation. For all I know, she may not have give me a second’s thought during all these years.

But I have a little secret about her. This girl has been a part of my life for decades, in a very unusual way. I wanted to tell her about it, but when I mentioned it to Sophia, she told me not to tell her. It would make me look weird.

I’ll let you decide.

So what is this mystery I keep on talking about? How has this girl (now a woman) been an integral part of my life since high school?

On my first day of college at Columbia in New York, I went with my mother to open a bank account at Citibank. There was a branch a few blocks on Broadway. After depositing some money, I received my very first ever personal ATM card. I needed a password. Using my street name or middle name was too obvious. I wanted something personal, but obscure enough for a thief to never figure it out. So, I chose the first name of this girl from school, this girl with the unusual, but beautiful name. My competitor.

Since that time, years passed, and I have moved and changed banks numerous times. Citibank, Marine Midland, HSBC, Pacific Security, Wells Fargo, Bank of America — each receiving an ATM card with the exact same password — my classmate’s first name. As you can tell, I don’t change things easily.

This girl is now a woman, but I still can picture her raising her hand a second before mine in the fourth grade, and reciting the correct equation in math. She has become an iconic image in my mind. Her name, because of her association with my ATM card, has been forever connected to matters such as ambition, success… and my bank account. Has it worked out for me? Well…

Of course, by telling this story, it is also the end of an era. Once she finds out (if I choose to tell her) , I will need to change the password to my bank ATM for the first time in decades.

First, my blog template changes, now my ATM password will have to change. Again, it might seem like very small changes, but these items have symbolism, and symbolism is the most powerful God of all.

But maybe it is time to change the password on my ATM card. It is 2010, and my hair is graying. It is time to move beyond a life revolving around a competition with a girl from elementary school. This was never an effective and mature way to deal with existence beyond the 12th grade. Time to finally graduate from school — psychologically — and find my inspiration in the present.

Time for a new ATM password.

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I’ve been through a metric shitton of therapy, both individual and group, to varying degrees of success. Spent two years in an intensive outpatient program (IOP), in fact. Grief recovery and suicide prevention was the main focus. Most everyone in that group – and I saw people come and go over time as I became the senior member – probably suffered some form of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (amongst other maladies).

I recall my very first day of IOP. I’d had a nervous breakdown and couldn’t work. Showed up at the encouragement of my individual therapist.

There might have been 6 or 7 others there that first day. I had no idea what to expect. The first (of four) hours of each day was check-in time. Everyone in group spent 5 minutes “checking in,” telling the therapists what was going on. Because it was my first day, I got to check in last. Which seemed to be a mistake.

As each stranger reported in on their life, I heard stories that made me question what the fuck *I* was doing there.

Jesus, I don’t have any fucking problems compared to these people. What’s my deal?

Horror stories, some of them. If I weren’t so polite, I might have just sat there with my jaw hanging open, listening to it all.

Turns out, as I’d learn over time, there were more than a handful of distortions I was clinging to. Everyone’s problems are different, everyone’s life is different. Trying to compare your struggles to mine isn’t a fair comparison most of the time. Apples and oranges, etc. Or, as I tended to say, one person’s savior is another person’s pair of lead boots.

We had these sheets we’d fill out called Trauma Sheets, where we’d discuss traumatic events in our life and “process” these things with the group. The first time I told a story from my past, I was stunned. Mostly because my group members were stunned and more than one of them were left with their jaws hanging open.

“What?” I said. “That’s not normal?”

Come to find out lots of things from my childhood weren’t “normal.”

You can’t spend five days a week, four hours a day, with a small group of people and not make friends. Some of us hung out outside group, spending even more time together. Naturally, there were rules in IOP. We weren’t allowed to engage in any sexual activity with each other. Group members weren’t allowed to loan or borrow money. (The group represented most cross-sections of society…some of us were poor and relying on food banks, others were pretty damn well off.) These rules were meant to keep the group a safe place. There was already enough conflict and stuff to deal with – didn’t need to create more drama between us (though there was some of that, too, because not everyone followed the rules all the time).

Lots of group therapy stories, but I ramble enough already. Oddly, I left group and quickly lost track of most all those folks. Haven’t been in a group therapy situation since.

So when the Matrix Therapist suggested yesterday the notion of group therapy, I said that I didn’t have a problem with it. EXCEPT that the groups she was suggesting were at the main VA facility in Tampa. Being in Sebring, there’s only a small clinic here…most anything specialized requires a visit to the main hospital, about 2 hours away from me.

“Depending on how often these groups meet,” I said, “that could be a lot of traveling.” I mean, two hours there, one or two hours of group (I’m assuming), then two hours back home? That’s a full fucking day. And even once a week, that’d add up pretty fast to lots of gas money.

Which is what led the Matrix Therapist bring up something I’ve never experienced: INpatient treatment. Meaning: you stay in facility instead of staying at home.

Whoa.

But let’s face facts: whatever I’m doing now ain’t working. I’m stuck. Again. Stagnant, even, and I find that to be the equivalent of a 4-letter word. The meds aren’t doing their thing (so far). Being in-house would let them aggressively play with meds while I’m under their watch. Plus, there’d (presumably) be a lot of structure with the group situation.

What terrifies me about this (much as I can see the potential good in it) is that I’d be totally outside my comfort zone. The likelihood of there being unrestricted Internet access is slim to none. And most all of my friends are living inside my computer. Yikes. Sure, they’ll probably let me keep my iPhone, but I’ve been to that hospital and the signal inside (as is true for many hospitals) sucks ass.

I’d be not only hanging with strangers – and sharing lots of stories/events with them – but living with them, as well.

*ring ring*

Hello?

Hi, Karl, it’s me, Social Phobia.

I don’t know how long this inpatient thing typically lasts, but the MT said yesterday it could be as little as 3 or 4 days.

“No way,” I told her. “That’s not enough time to do shit with medication.” Hell, we’ve been playing this round of the Pharmaceutical Game for many months now. I’m no stranger to being a lab rat. Meds that mess with the brain take weeks/months to gain efficacy.

My educated guess for how long I’d stay is something along the lines of at least 2-3 weeks, if not more. Which, in Karl Time, is like 2-3 months of not sleeping in my own bed, not being able to get online any time I want to, not being able to stay up till 1 in the morning, not being able to walk around in my boxers all the time. The list goes on.

That’s a long time to be outside my comfort zone.

Nevertheless, I told the MT that I’m not averse to the options. So this morning I went back in and, after getting blood drawn for my diabetes, met with the Matrix Therapist again to fill out a qualifying questionnaire.

I should hear either today or maybe Monday from the VA about if I qualify and, subsequently, where I fall on the waiting list. Then I can ask questions like:

• How long is the average stay?
• What am I allowed to bring with me from home?
• What is the structure of the program? How many hours of the day are scheduled, and how much free time do we get?
• Is there wifi?
• What’s the bed time?
• Do I have to be roomies with anyone possessing that old-man smell? (What? This is the VA we’re talking about. I’m a young whippersnapper compared to most of these people.)
• How do we deal with things like my insulin and syringes?
• Is there live-tweeting allowed from group?

I don’t have answers to any of these yet, but hope to soon. If anything, as Sybil was keen to point out last night on the phone, I should get some decent blog posts out of it.

So there’s that.

--- Thanks for reading! SecondHand Tryptophan

Enjoyed last night’s episode of 2HRadio with Cissa, where we talked about all sorts of things, including last weekend’s SillyBring. She and Shannon both wrote about the weekend on their blogs.

We had six of us for Sillybring: CheekySweetie, Shannon, Cissa, Whostolemyzen, NoelleD, and of course myself. Even though I brought my camera, I didn’t get any shots (aside from when Shannon and I went to Gatorama).

So let’s go with a couple of good photo sets from Cissa and Shannon, because they had the presence of mind to take lots of pics.

Here’s Shannon’s photos on Flickr.

And Cissa’s.

And my photos from Gatorama, which include the grinning Pepe LePew, who is getting laid. Lucky fucking skunk. If I want to get laid, I have to recruit crack whores…and even they are a tad picky.

Because I’m lazy and undergoing a series of anxiety attacks the last couple of days, I’m going to bulletize SillyBring.

• Shannon’s first night in Sebring nearly brought a live possum to her chair on my front porch. It was a big fucker, too. I shooed it away like it was a dog, half chasing it across my yard so that Shannon wouldn’t freak. Fortunately, despite having a run of bad luck lately, this particular possum was not, in fact, rabid, and did not leap for my throat and bite through my jugular. I assured Shannon I’d never seen a possum before, let alone had one walk up my sidewalk straight up to me…I don’t know that she believed me.
• Gatorama once again proved to kick ass. It was the one time I had my camera with me throughout the weekend. I was too busy enjoying everyone else’s company beyond that. We both got to hold a baby gator and croc, see TONS of gators in the lake (all of whom seem to be Jewish, since they swam for bagels like they were heroine), and the fucking skunks (literally). Also hung around long enough to see the gators being fed, which was something else. All in all, a fun afternoon with a VERY Floridian activity. Gator jerky available in the gift shop, please come again.
• CheekySweetie arrived a day before SillyBring to hang with Shannon and I before the other ladies got to town. Love, love, love her and enjoyed having two of my fave women together in one location again. Her laugh always gets me to smiling and laughing myself…much needed.
• Met up with Cissa, WhostolemyZen, and NoelleD at the Blue Lagoon for lunch (corn nuggets!) on Saturday. Fun and hilarity ensued (for pretty much the next 24 hours). WhostolemyZen and NoelleD and the others soon realized that corn nuggets are much like crack. Cissa was not overly impressed. Witches, whaddya gonna do?
• The next few hours were filled with shopping at Ross Dress For Less, Michaels, and some other clothing store. Shannon has been losing quite a bit of weight, and wanted some girl power to help her find clothes. The mumu looked great, but she went with different looks for some reason.
• There was much Foursquaring going on all weekend, of course. Vying for Mayorships in new venues was exhausting, but I wound up Mayor of a couple more places, even if it meant ousting some friends in the process. That’s right, bitches, I’m now a Super Mayor!
• We all spent quite a bit of time in our hotel room…2 bedroom suite, 2 bathrooms. It was perfect for the 6 of us to gather and hang. We also spent some time in the pool and hot tub. Mmm.
• Dinner at Don Jose’s Mexican that night. My Mom joined us all. It was Angel’s first time at a Mexican restaurant!
• The Why Not Lounge was perfection that night. Ladies drink free from 10-midnight (y’know, thinking of my ladies) and the people-watching was out of this world. People straight out of “Deliverance” were at the next table. I was just waiting for the banjo music to start. There were lots of big eyes (as SillyBringers stared openly at family members grinding on each other during songs, incredibly drunk folks who couldn’t talk or sing but tried anyway, and an amorous couple getting it on in the ladies’ bathroom) and laughs. Oh, and branding…can’t forget the branding. Shannon and Cissa and I sang karaoke, while Angel, WhostolemyZen, and NoelleD said “There’s not enough booze on Earth to get us up there.”
• Next morning, the girls came back to Shannon’s, Angel’s, and my hotel room and hung out some more, doing girly things like hairwraps for Shannon and Angel. I figured I’d forego the hairwrap, since my hair is maybe half an inch long.
• We went to Bob Evans for brunch (yay for blueberry crepes), lots more laughter, and ultimately our goodbyes. We took a few more photos outside, hugged and kissed each other farewell, then Cissa and WhostolemyZen and Noelle D took off for home.
• Shannon and Angel and I hung out at my house for a little while before Angel went back home. Then Shannon and I, though sad to see everybody leave, kinda vegged out and napped. I may have uttered the words, “I’m too old for this partying shit” once or twice.

And that was pretty much SillyBring. Shannon stayed another day, we enjoyed some mindless TV after our naps on Sunday. She made a delicious steak dinner for my Mom and I. Think we played some more “Price is Right” on the Wii before hitting the sack, exhausted. Next morning, more mindless TV (including RuPaul’s Drag Show). Enjoyed Shannon’s company immensely.

Then it was time to drive Shannon back to Orlando International to fly home. We listened to the Kick-Ass soundtrack on the way, having both LOVED the movie. Dropped her off at the Southwest check-in, hugs and kisses, and that was that. I drove home, sad to see Shannon go. Sad to see the extended weekend come to a close. Sad to be back in Sebring all by my lonesome.

And not to be a bummer, but my depression has really been taking a nasty turn for the worst, ramping up throughout the week ever since Shannon left. Nothing seems to be clicking for me…no matter what I try, I’m not feeling it. Reading, TV, music, being online, even rubbing one out – fucking anhedonia can suck my left one.

My naps aren’t all that great because (I think) of the Abilify. Which sucks, because naps are one of my escapes from reality. I feel paralyzed and overwhelmed, too. So much to do, some of it complicated, all of which led to anxiety attacks yesterday, where I had to constantly remind myself to breathe.

You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to forget to breathe, yeah? I thought so, too.

a

I’m a good tipper. I’ve had many friends who wait tables and I know they bust their ass. You have to really be a crappy waitress to get less than 20% from me, yes, because I’m appreciative, but mostly because I don’t have the patience to do what they do. Or the coordination. Or memory. I hear you’re supposed to remember what people order and shit.

It’s the waiting I have trouble with in my life. Sure, I’m easy-going (mostly). I try to be patient – and sometimes I succeed – but mostly I suck at it.

2010 has been kicking my ass thus far, and the past week hasn’t done much to show me that it’s about to change any time soon. I’m tired of my life, I’m tired of the waiting. The Year of Resolutions can blow me right now. I’ve been so depressed of late that nothing seems to be getting done…not checking sugars the way I should, haven’t been working, haven’t been going to the Y. Suck it.

Friends say I need to grab the Universe by the balls and give them a tight squeeze. I think that’s a great idea, I answer, as soon as the universe lets go of its vice grip on MINE.

I lost a close friend this week. Not lost as in “she died” or “I misplaced her.” There was a series of blowouts in recent months, and this past week served to show me that waiting on a satisfactory explanation was a waste of time. Months I waited, and for what? Nothing. In the end, rather than talk about it, I got cut off entirely – blocked – and that’s been quite the blow for me. I thought we had a far deeper relationship than that. Seems I was wrong.

I realized a while back that the very thing I was waiting for (an answer that would make sense) wasn’t going to materialize. No answer would make everything that’s been happening OK. I was hoping things could be salvaged, but then the decision was made for me, and here I sit, writing off what was a very important relationship.

I’m seeing lately that patience, which they SAY is a virtue, is really a sucker’s game. Waiting by idly for someone else to make a decision often brings disappointing results.

The question now is how do I know what is worth waiting for (or if anything is worth waiting for)? How exactly do I grab the Universe’s scrotal sack without the incessant junk-punching it’s giving me?

I’m gonna start with less waiting. I’m worth more. It’s counter-productive, particularly when it’s the kind of waiting that precludes me from making a move until the other person makes their move. I have shit to do, I have a life to lead…Lord knows what that looks like, but I’m sure I have better things to do.

If I’m not important enough to deal with, fine. If you’ve got other things on your plate, fine.

Just don’t be fucking surprised if I’m not still waiting on your ass when you’re finally ready to get to me.

a

Happy Easter to you and yours. Hope it’s a great day.

March’s Resolution for the YOR was exercise…five days a week. I’m saying it was a successful month, despite being sick for the last couple of weeks. I plan to continue on with it, even if the local Y isn’t yet offering Tantric Yoga classes.

I meant for this month to be totally different when it comes to the April Resolution. I’m gonna put that one off till maybe next month. Instead, I’m going with something that the Matrix Therapist mentioned last week in our session.

Reconnecting.

I haven’t yet figured out the metrics portion of this Resolution. Basically, it all comes down to my girls and reestablishing a connection. Long story I’ve alluded to before, but in my really Dark Days, I thought they were better off without me around. A self-fulfilling prophecy. I was very mistaken, it’s plagued me for years, and I’m trying to do something about it. Again.

But there’s more to the reconnecting than my girls. I have quite a few people I need to reconnect with, and this is the month I start making that happen. I have emails to write, blogs to read for the first time in forever, phone calls, texts.

My myopia tends to shove friends and even family to the outskirts of my attention. And the more depressed I get, the more powerful those blinders get. This might make sense somewhere in the dust bunny farm known as my brain, but it’s counterproductive. My support group is largely online. The bulk of my friends are elsewhere, so it’s time to reach out and bring some of these long-lost folks back to the fold.

So don’t be too surprised if you suddenly see me on your blog, or if you get an email from me from out of the blue. Crawling out of this Funk ain’t easy, but I’m still trying to push through it.

In the meantime, here’s to hoping Jesus doesn’t see his shadow today, or there will be six more weeks of Apocalypse.

a

So, yesterday's post was, indeed, an April Fool's prank. I figured that it was simple, but obvious, if only because of the date alone. It didn't occur to me that, with the divorce and other shit going on in my life, people would think it was actually true! And not only think it was true, but be really awesome and sweet and supportive about it. Damn you people for making me feel bad about a prank!

I apologize for stirring the cockles of your heart, and I assure you that I'm not going anywhere. This is my place on the Internet – where I can say whatever I want, whenever I want. Where I can rant and joke and hang out with my friends, some of whom have made it on my newly decorated photo wall. (And if you're not on here, it probably means I don't have a photo of us – email me one and I'll add you!)

• Yesterday, another mystery ailment for the SecondHand Car. Came out to drive to dinner and the passenger-side window was rolled all the way down. I never touched the damn thing. Won’t roll back up.
• This brings me to the mechanic this morning, of course. Thankfully, no rain last night.
• LIST OF PROBS I GAVE THE MECHANIC. (1) The window, obviously. (2) The Swamp is beginning again. Find the fucking leak. (3) SERVICE ENGINE SOON light is off and on, off and on. Never stays off more than a day.
• There are 3 weeks until Shannon arrives. I need to get my shit together and get the bedrooms ready. Are you coming to SillyBring? April 24 is coming fast. So far, we have seven people, including me.
• There are a lot more Poison fans than I thought. Oddly, some of these people are friends of mine. Oddly, I still like them. The friends, not the fucking band.
• Then again, I like Rick Springfield, so who am I to judge?
• Tomorrow is not only Mom’s birthday, but my twin daughters’ birthday, too. April Fool’s! Mom is still 36 (she swears), yet I’m 43. There may have been a flux capacitor involved, I don’t know.
• Mom is doing well, by the way. This is her second week of physical therapy. Walking around, she even drove from the house to the restaurant last night. “Braking is a bitch.” Um, yeah, Mom. Let’s hold off on the driving, then, for a few more weeks. Braking? Sort of integral to the whole driving thing.
• I’ve had a couple of epiphanies of late. I don’t know what good they do me.
• Been digging “Lost” and its last season. IMAGINARY SPOILER ALERT, BUT ONLY IF I’M RIGHT. My guess for the ending is that Hurley and Sayid will replace Jacob and the Smoke Monster as guardians of the island.
• Almost caught up on “Life,” too. Great series from the same people at Discovery that came up with “Planet Earth” a few years back.
• I’m so woefully behind on virtually every series I watch that there may be no recovery.
• The Sickness. Still coughing and blowing my nose, but I’m relatively better. May start hitting the Y again tomorrow. Just in time for April’s Resolution (announced tomorrow).
• Shit, I really need to come up with April’s Resolution.
• I have the Matrix Therapist this afternoon. Doctor visit tomorrow morning. And a 2-hour drive to get my eyes examined next week. Hoping the car is fixed well before that drive. Having nothing but ordinary terrestrial radio available (should I need to take Mom’s car) is unacceptable.
• Taking mental inventory between now and therapy is gonna be tough. I don’t really KNOW how I’m feeling. Better? Worse? Same? Is the Abilify doing anything? It *might* be giving me more energy (thus, my greatly reduced nappage quotient), but it sure as hell ain’t improving my mood. I don’t think. Then again, the MT did say last time that I seemed “mellower.”
• On second glance, I think I may need to increase the dosage. Feeling like withdrawing from the Net (even like axing accounts) can’t be a good thing. Not for me, anyway. Just. Not. Feeling. It.
• I still get 20-30 “press releases” a day from people trying to get me to write about their celebrities. Hello? No longer doing the celeb thing. Please delete me from your lists. Thanks.
• I also get 10-20 emails a day telling me about Mommy issues. This is also residual ex-job stuff, but probably has some BlogHer mixed in there, as well. Your new nipple cream to help me with my sore nips after feeding my triplets? Thanks, don’t need it.
• After seeing Ben Folds with my friend, Tracy, she got tickets for us to see OK Go in May. She didn’t even ask me first. I’m not bitching. Another band I’ve never seen live. Here’s to hoping they have a giant Rube Goldberg machine set up on stage…or at least treadmills.

a

So yesterday, I went to see Hot Tub Time Machine with a bud. I have a weakness for time travel stories. If I had to pick a favorite time travel movie, it’d be Back to the Future, naturally…love that shit. But I also have a fondness for Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Time Cop, and the Butterfly Effect.

Hot Tub? Was so-so. It brought some laughs, many of them were gross-out laughs involving bodily fluids, but whatever. Not Hangover funny, but not a total loss. It’s just that, well, when you have a movie called Hot Tub Time Machine, can you be all that shocked at what kind of a movie it is? It’s a hot tub with a built-in time machine; there’s really not a lot of plot going on.

I’m an 80’s kid…graduated in 1984, so this was prime pickings for me. I LIVED in the time of jeri-curls and Miami Vice. Hell, I wore a linen jacket myself with pastel-colored t-shirts.

Bottom line: worth a rental, perhaps a matinee. Definitely NOT worth full night-time prices at the movies.

The premise that always interests me with time-travel tales is changing the future. If I went back in time, and I had my 2010 brain in my teenage body, what would I do? First off, I’d be getting laid like there was no tomorrow. I know stuff now that I didn’t know then. How to kiss a girl, for instance. Better yet, I know where the G-spot is. I’d be the most popular guy in school! My street cred would zoom through the roof!

Things I’d Do If I Went Back in Time

1. I’d totally make it with Janeen Heaney in 9th grade. James Bonner may have gotten the girl back then, but he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. I’d say screw the anonymous love letters I left in Janeen’s locker for two years. I’d go right to her face, bring her flowers, whisper sweet nothings in her ear, and make her cum so hard her toes would curl…maybe even pop off. She’d tell her girlfriends and pretty soon every girl in school would want to fuck me. Karl 2.0, yeah, baby.
2. Buy stock in Apple. In the 80’s. I had an Apple IIc back then. Perhaps now I’d easily afford a new MacBook.
3. Punch Kevin Ferrick in the mouth. 8th grade. Schoolmate and next-door neighbor. Him and the *other* Kevin (Downs) were merciless. I wouldn’t save their asses if I had another shot.
4. I’d preinvent the fucking Snuggie. I hate them, but I’m not an idiot. If morons are willing to buy tons of backwards robes, I’ll be happy to sell them.
5. I’d stop Michael Hutchence from killing himself. Love INXS and miss him a lot. The new singer, J.D. Fortune, just ain’t doing it for me.
6. I’d actually get fashionable haircuts. And clothes.
7. I would start going to therapy right after my folks got divorced. Who KNOWS where I’d be now if I had been enlightened decades ago?
8. I’d totally ace school, be friends with the geeks, the jocks, and the outcasts alike. The teachers would all love me, so would the girls. And the guys would all want to be me.
9. I’d steal all of our stuff out of storage when we moved from New York to New Mexico. Lost virtually everything we had when I was 15…heirlooms, photos, games. All of it.
10. I’d totally sleep with my first girlfriend. I was inexperienced and a goody-goody. Fuck that.
11. Stop Coca Cola from making the dreadful New Coke in the 80’s. ‘Nuff said.
12. Prevent Poison from ever becoming a band. I know, the history books would thank me forever. Oddly, the stupid band is in the Hot Tub movie.

I’d still prefer the Delorean vs. the Hot Tub Time Machine, don’t get me wrong. But I’d make it work however I had to.

Now, a little meme, courtesy of Dave2.

1. Go to your first photo file and pick the 10th photo in it.
2. Tell the story behind the photo.
3. Tag 5 other people to do likewise.

My first photo file is random Karl photos from the past. And here’s #10:

That’s me, circa February, 1987. Air Force Basic Training, Lackland AFB, Texas. Silly photo booth shot that I took for  my (then) wife. Let me tell you, when you’re away from the woman you’re madly in love with for MONTHS, you LIVE for mail call every day.

I remember that my ex told me she didn’t recognize the guy in that photo until her mom pointed out that it was me. Then, she cried. “What have they done to him?”

What, indeed.

I don’t tag people, but feel free to try this yourself.

a

Had a great weekend in Destin with Kim, Becky, and Angel.

How long does it take to get over losing the love of your life? I don’t have an answer. I suspect it’s something along the lines of never getting over it, just learning to deal with the pain. Saturday was the one-year anniversary of Kim losing her beloved Gregory, and I’m really glad that she was surrounded by some of her close friends.

We laughed till we cried.

We cried till we laughed.

We ate a shitton of food and suffered gastrointestinal battles.

Angel made Kim laugh while she was drinking Maalox and nearly the entire inside of the car was coated with the stuff.

Much drinking. Including a Jack Monkey.

Great conversations, some of which left me really sad. Got me to thinking a lot about my daughters.

And I’m sick now. I must have blown my nose a thousand times over the weekend. Fever this morning, sore throat, headache, coughing like crazy. Totally worth it, though. Hopefully, everyone else comes through unscathed.

Love the women I hung out with. Very thankful Kim invited me to spend this difficult milestone with her. And I’m thankful she had Greg in her life for a while, even if it’s so unfair that he was taken far too early.

Remember to tell the people close to you that you love them. If there’s anything Kim has taught me (aside from the laughing), it’s that life is short. You never know what’s coming, so make it all count.

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I love music. I don’t know where I’d be without it, honestly. One thing the iPhone (iPod) does really well is music. I use Smart Playlists to sync songs all the time, love my iPod.

And there are some great music apps for the iPhone, too. Thought I’d share a handful of my favorites with you.

Moodagent – FREE

Moodagent is a really cool app I discovered not long ago, and best of all, it’s FREE. It profiles the music you have on your iPod and then lets you automagically create playlists based on your mood. Yes, your mood. You move five different sliders around. Based on the five sliders – Sensual, Tender, Joy, Aggressive, and Tempo – you figure out how you’re feeling, make the adjustments and then Moodagent does the rest.

The result is a playlist of 25 songs that all match your mood, like so.

You can also save and load playlists you’ve created with Moodagent. And if you’re not feeling the slider thing at the moment, you can click on the Search (magnifying glass) icon and hand-select any song on your iPod. Moodagent will then adjust the sliders accordingly for that song and create your playlist based on the song.

Very, very cool. Plus, it integrates with your iPod, so you can start a playlist, then exit Moodagent, and have your music still playing. (Unlike most music apps. At least, until Apple allows multitasking.)

Last.fm – FREE

Been using Last.fm for years now. It came before Pandora did. It’s a social music site. You sign up, create a profile, and it keeps track of your favorite music for you. That’s the basics. You can also use it like Pandora…enter an artist or song, and Last.fm will create a custom music station based on your selection.

Last.fm tracks all the songs you listen to. In fact, my favorite thing about Last.fm is what they call “scrobbling.” Thanks to a small download, every time I sync my iPhone through iTunes, Last.fm scrobbles all the songs I’ve played and uploads them to my account. It organizes everything…how often I’ve played each song, etc.

And my “neighbors” (friends) on Last.fm have access to my library, too. They can  listen to MY “station,” which is a great way to find great music. Another great way is to listen to your “recommended” music. Based on the music you’ve scrobbled so far, Last.fm finds recommended artists and puts them into a special station for you. Rocking service that I think everyone should be using.

Simplify Music 2 – $7.99

Simplify Music 2 is another great app. I got it for free a while back; now it’s $7.99, but it’s worth every penny.

Simply put, Simplify 2 lets you stream all the music in your iTunes to your iPod/iPhone. Now you don’t have to worry that you can’t fit all your music into that phone of yours…you have access to your entire music library. Provided you have iTunes up and running, of course. It forms a network connection between the Simplify app on your phone and the Simplify app on your computer.

Works fantastically.

Slacker Radio – FREE

Don’t get me wrong, I love Pandora, but rarely use it these days, thanks to Last.fm and Slacker Radio. Slacker is very similar to Pandora – you create custom music stations based on songs/artists you like. Again, it’s a great way to find new artists.

The difference, to  me, is that I think Slacker puts together a more organic sounding mix based on my selection. They put songs together that I’d never think to put together, but once I hear them together they click and make sense. Love, love, love.

Plus, I can select from musical genre stations. Sure, there’s your typical “80’s, 90’s, and Today” station, but I can choose from Reggae or Blues or any number of genres I want to hear. The only caveat is the occasional 15-second commercial (unless you buy the premium subscription, but it’s not required).

I can even listen to stand-up comedy. For instance, Steven Wright. Creates a comedy station just for me. Nice.

Great sound that streams via WiFi.

SoundHound – $4.99

How many times have you heard a song on the radio, or in someone’s car, and wondered who sings it? Look no further.

Load up SoundHound, tap the TAP HERE button, and let your phone listen to that song. SoundHound is remarkably accurate and should have your song for you in a matter of seconds. You can even hum or sing a song yourself and get results!

From there, you can Bookmark a song, Share it (Email, Twitter, Facebook), and even Buy it. It also looks up the lyrics for you, and corresponding Youtube videos.

GREAT app that will never leave my iPhone. I was lucky enough to get it for free way back when, but again…worth every penny.

Wunder Radio – $6.99

Listen to most any radio station around the world, people. Add in Weather radio, police and fire rescue scanners, accessibility for subscription satellite radio (Sirius/XM), and you have Wunder Radio. Damn cool app.

Find stations based on genre (talk, sports, pop music, new age, rap, etc.) or location (Great Britain, Australia, wherever). Listen to police scanners from your old neck of the woods (provided they’re in the list). Sometimes I tune in to some Dallas radio stations, just to hear the ads for my old hometown. Or British radio, same reason.

Streams great over 3G or WiFi.

There you have it…great apps to help you stay in touch with your favorite music, maybe even find some amazing NEW stuff to listen to.

You’re welcome. How about you? Have any fave music apps on your iPhone or iPod Touch?

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