1000 Things I Hate: #4

#4. PEOPLE WHO CAN'T UNDERSTAND HOW TO USE THERE, THEIR, THEY'RE

We all know that person who is completely incapable of using the words they're, their, and there correctly. If you don't know anyone like this, then YOU are the friend who can't use it correctly. (Sorry.) It really is one of the most annoying things I see. I debated about ranting on this because I have a lot of friends who do this. However, I have a few who don't hesitate to call me out on my misuse of the language (I'm eyeballing you, Jim Davis), so I decided to move forward.

I actually get angry when it happens. It's an easy thing to remember. I mean, where the hell were these people during English class when teachers were going over this?



I'm gonna break it down so that you can share this with your friends who apparently were eating glue and shoving crayons up THEIR noses while THEIR teachers were trying to get this across in third grade.

RULE #1: See the orange highlights? That is the appropriate use of the word THEIR. When using the spelling THEIR, it is in reference to something that belongs to someone else; it is THEIRS. This is the toughest of the rules to learn, admittedly. That being said, I taught this to 3rd graders with very little issue. People who choose not to learn this rule, should have THEIR ability to type, text, and write horribly mangled love notes to THEIR significant other taken away from them.

RULE #2: This is an easy one. THERE is a reference to a location, place, or state of being. "I parked my car over THERE." "We'll see you THERE." "THERE are some things we need to talk about." An easy way to tell your friends about this one is that the word HERE is hidden in it! Ooooo! Aaahhh! Here AND there are places. So, use the word that has HERE hidden in it when referring to a place.

RULE #3: THEY'RE gonna love you for teaching them how to use this awesome contraction! THEY'RE is a contraction that brings together and shortens the two words "THEY ARE." The easiest to learn is THEY'RE. When your friend wants to use this word, make sure they break it down and see if it makes sense. "THEY'RE asleep during language class" can be translated as "THEY ARE asleep during language class." If it works, you've got it!


I know what you're thinking; "Man, Derrick is being a dick about
this." Absolutely. Ignorance, I can forgive. Stupidity, I can't. Knowing the basics of your own language is a must. We are the only major, industrialized country that doesn't have a national language. It's ridiculous (and another topic for another day). That being
said, it doesn't give people the excuse to look like fools when they don't know the rules of their native language. Just remember; it's one thing to not know any better. It's another thing to be stupid and choose to not learn. Just ask Ron White. He'll tell you, too

1000 Things I Hate: #3

#3. THE NEW YORK YANKEES

It's not that I am against winning (after all, I DO like Charlie Sheen). It IS, however, that I am against buying wins. Steinbrenner was a genius. He had it all figured out: Make a ton of money by any means necessary, have a decent team to start with, and plug holes by paying an asinine amount of money to players to fill said holes (many of which are mediocre at best). The Yankees are the most celebrated team in baseball history. Much of that they have earned. Mantle, Gehrig, Berra, DiMaggio; all true Yankees from the system up. I can respect that. What I refuse to respect is paying to win. I do get some joy out of the Yanks' deep pocket blunders. Signing Carl Pavano a few years ago (just to keep him out of Boston) cost them $40 million. He won 4 games in 26 starts. They would lose the bid to Daisuke Matsuzaka (also to the Red Sox), but would shell out $20 million for 5 years to Kei Igawa (Who?... Exactly.). He would go on to a 2-4 record and an ERA over 10. I suppose there are some small joys in life.

If you are a Yankee supporter, and can sleep well at night knowing that if you had the bank account of say, the Brewers, you would be terrible, then good for you. I'm happy for you. However, I feel it necessary to agree with my little friend here...

1000 Things I Hate: #2

#2. PEOPLE THAT SAY "LIKE" BEFORE EVERY WORD

There is nothing more annoying than talking to someone who spends 13 minutes telling a 4 minute story. What makes up the other nine minutes? A small word. A word of comparison. A word expressing similarity. That word is: Like. We used to make fun of the stereotypical Cali girls who would be, like, so annoying. Somewhere, as a culture, people assimilated this word into their everyday conversation. I am of the opinion that there are a few reasons why people, like, say like, like, waaay too much.



Easy on the eyes. Hard on the ears.

Reason 1: People need a placeholder to think of what they are going to say next. Think about how many times during speeches that people use "Umm," "Well," and other useless sounds to create a gap to think about what they will say next. Some even use it in conversation.

Reason 2: People, like, seriously have, like, nothing interesting to say. Some people feel as though adding words and making what they have to say longer, makes them sound more important. It doesn't. You sound like a fucking idiot. "Like, dude, like that really hurt my feelings. I'm, like, a little mad that you feeling, like, like that about me." Don't be mad. Get a dictionary, something interesting to say, and come talk to me. I'm sure we'll patch things right up.

There's probably another reason or seventy-three. If you have one, feel free to tell me. Just don't, like, use 'like' to get your point across. (See above.)

1000 Things I Hate: #1

  I'm not sure how to start this out. I am quite sure, though, that I do indeed hate one thousand things. I will be updating this frequently (hopefully). We'll see where it goes.


#1. WAKING UP 3 MINUTES BEFORE THE ALARM

       Seriously?! This has got to be one of life's biggest practical jokes. You're right in the middle of quite possibly the best dream ever. THE most amazing thing is about to happen; you're watching Batman ride a mechanical unicorn over a sea of playful dolphins, about to finally make out with Milla Jovovich, watch Kobe Bryant actually go to jail for ass-raping that chick in Colorado...

You get the idea. It's all about to come together, then... your eyes fly open, you lay there looking around, wondering where you are, and you quickly glance at the clock to see if you've overslept!

Well, you avoided that bullet, only to then have another though cross your mind: 'Maybe if I close my eyes fast enough, I can go back to the dream!' Just as you are about to go back under... 

WHA!-WHA!-WHA!-WHA! DAMNIT! Now the alarm is blaring and you have to pee like you've held it for a month. /sigh

On top of all of that, I feel exhausted just from waking up...

Winds of Change

     Change is difficult. For some of us, it's more difficult. We like routines, schedules, a sense of normalcy. We like having, meeting, and being able to meet expectations. We like knowing that, when everything around us falls apart, the steadfast routines that we've created as part of our lives will remain in tact and give us something to hold to until the winds of the storm die down and we can come out of the shelter we've taken refuge behind. So, what happens when the change is not the approaching storm, but the shelter that we took comfort in knowing would protect us?

     Life is fluid. For some of us, it's more fluid. We can't all hold the same job for 30 years and retire taking solace in the fact that we scraped by, did what had to be done, and were able to hand the reins over to the next kid to do our job for the next thirty. Some of us marry early thinking that we've got everything figured out and that this is who we are supposed to be with forever. It works, until one of you decides that the paint on the white picket fence doesn't shine quite as brightly as it used to. Not everyone is gets to forge lifelong friendships wherein they see and meet with and enjoy the company of their friends and their friends' families as the calendar pages turn year after year, building memories and sharing more stories than could ever be remembered and told while sitting around a campfire. People change, friends move, both physically and emotionally, differences arise, and those we held dearest to us often become those we have pushed farthest away.

     Love is hard. For some of us, it's harder. We are closed-off. Our walls are high either by choice or because someone has caused us to build them higher every time someone has broken them down. We all aren't optimists. The good in people is more difficult to see; it's easier to find ways and reasons to keep people out than it is to let them in. That is our rock and our comfort; knowing that we are in charge of who gets in and out. The hardest part of love is figuring out what to do when the person who tears down the walls was the person you willingly let in and not the person trying to get in. Once they're in, they know you; your likes, dislikes, secrets, regrets, hopes, dreams, aspirations, feelings, what you're thinking when you run your hands through your own hair or chew on your fingernails, what you worry about when you lie in bed, and, though you've said nothing and tears are racing down your face and into your pillow, how you like to have your back rubbed or just a hand on your head to let you know that they know.

     In the end, we all travel our own paths. Some of us walk the road, paved by the millions who've gone before us. Others cut their own through the fields that no one else bothers to look twice at, unafraid of what lies ahead. Neither path is wrong. And, in the end, they all lead to the same place; a hole in the ground and a stone headpiece that no one will care about in 30 years.

     Henry David Thoreau said, "The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." Some of us, metaphorically, live more expensively than others. Some will die penniless and wonder why we spent so much on so little. Hopefully, when we look back, we'll all know that what we paid for life was worth what we got out of it.

For a Friend

     This post will not be funny. It will not be witty. It will not be sarcastic or hard-hearted, as per my usual. This post is a way for me to get some things out of my own head that I often keep in too much or hold onto for too long before they eventually are the root cause for me overreacting to a situation or blowing something entirely out of proportion, as I'm sure many of us are apt to do.

     In fact, this will be a post of expression; expression of something I haven't considered a great deal until the last few days.


     With the very recent passing of a friend, I was confronted with a situation I haven't ever put much thought into: "How am I going to react when I lose someone I truly care about?" I'll be honest. The list of people that I genuinely and whole-heartedly care for is very small. In fact, I would say the number is less than 10, which in and of itself is a sad state of affairs. That being said, this entire situation has me rethinking much of how I handle the people in my life on a day-to-day basis.

     I think, as a society and as a people in general, that the world fosters a lifestyle that makes it much easier for us to treat people in the same manner in which we would treat batteries; we don't think much about them while they're viable or until we need them or they're no longer useful. It's easier to make up a reason to not answer a phone call or to go out to dinner with a friend. I am probably the most guilty person on the entire planet of this. It's not that I don't enjoy the company of others, but, rather, would stay in and be selfish with my time. Not that my time is any more or less important than someone else's. However, in staying in and blowing off an invitation from a friend, how many times have I denied them the opportunity to get something off of their chest that no one would listen to? How many times have I thrown away the chance to create a new memory with someone? How many times have I ignored what was a call for help when all someone needed was a friend to hear about a heartache or when they just needed the company of someone who they knew they could trust?

     Recent events have made me confront this question and so many others. When I die, what will my friends say about me? That I was egotistical? Funny? Understanding? Inconsiderate? While people make the procession around the coffin, will they be stoic and uncaring? or will they be smiling through the tears as they reminisce about a memory that we'd shared just last week or 10 years ago? Who we are is defined inevitably by what we do, how we live, and, arguably most importantly, how we treat both those we care about as well as those that we do not.

     Am I saying that I will, from this point forward, answer every call, respond to every text, and be a saint to my fullest ability? Absolutely not. It's not in my DNA. If you know me at all, you definitely can attest to this truth. What I am saying, however, is that I'm forced to reconsider who I am and the actions that come along with being me. I think if we all look deep, we could see that every one of us could use some adjusting now and then. As much as I'd like to think differently, I am just as guilty as anyone.

     So, after reading this, if you find yourself considering my words sitting on the couch tonight, or if it sparks a discussion with your significant other, or if you simply decide to smile at the deli clerk tomorrow at the store because it looks like it could change their day, then I have done what I've set out to do.

As far as those few friends that we all hold nearest and dearest to our hearts; instead of tossing out those batteries, maybe it's just time to recharge them and make them a useful and meaningful part of our lives again.


[This post is specifically dedicated (and hopefully I have done her some justice, in some shape, form or fashion) to Sheri Lynn West. You will be missed, but not forgotten. My heart goes out to Josh West, their three beautiful children, Jeri Ann Moody, their parents, and their family and friends.]

Growing Pains

      Cameron walked into Kindergarten today, on his own, for the first time. I pulled up to the awning, handed him his backpack and his lunchbox, kissed his cheek, and told him I loved him and hoped he had the best day. As I'm pulling away, he stood unphased with a smile on his face and waving. As he turned to walk inside, he yelled, "Hey dad!" I turned back to look, he waved and said, "I love you" and walked on inside.

     I lost it.

     So many times I have wondered what I could have done better or looked at all the things I have probably done wrong. And then I see him. I don't deserve him. He's the happiest, most energetic, polite, tender-hearted, intelligent little boy I have ever known. He is resilient beyond all compare. No matter what we or life have ever thrown at him, he waits, analyzes, and adjusts accordingly. I do not know how he does it. Everything to him is just another stride in life's walk. How I became the dad of this guy is beyond me. Of all of the people who deserved to have him as a son, I was chosen. It's not fair to him. Yet, every day, without fail, whether through words or actions or some memory of something that he has done or said in the past, I smile daily. He is the only thing I have ever done completely right, and most of that isn't even on me. It's as if he just knows that I need him to be so amazing because I fall so short, so often. I just want to hug him and apologize for not being as good as the the dad he deserves.

    I could tell him that. But he would just look at me, smile, and say, "That's ok dad. I love you." It's just how he is, and I never want to take that for granted.