Maslow's Hierarchy Vs. The Millenium Falcon

It's no secret that I am fascinated with time travel. Yeah, it could be used to go back in time and fix atrocities that societies have experienced throughout history, however, I'm pretty sure that anything that got fixed would just create more problems. All those horrible events in history, we supposedly learned from and had they not happened, we would be doomed to make the mistakes anyway because they had to happen in order for us to develop the tools we need to avoid them in the future. At least, we are supposed to.

Of course, I would use it to go back in time and see the Commodores play live and probably go to the US festival to see Van Halen play. Another good use would be to go back to 1978 on a Saturday and watch cartoons and then maybe go pick up some awesome vinyl and a really nice hi-fi. This all looks good on paper, but what if you never moved beyond those wants and needs from the past? Would you truly be able to move forward into your adult life. It would be like being 30 and still wanting that Millenium Falcon or Evel Kneivel wind up toy that you put on layaway at Mervyn's. Or, the guy who goes out and gets a kickass El Camino this year and leans on the tailgate smoking cigarettes while he listens to Bad Company in the parking lot at work. Let it go. Check the baggage and never claim it when you get to your destination. Just walk away. You have to let these things go to evolve into an adult and develop wants and needs for new, adult things. I think these adult things are babies, cars, houses and other things like that.

According to Maslow's hierachy of needs, the Millenium Falcons and Cabbage Patch Kids develop into Physical, Security, Social, Ego and Self-Actualization. In order to get to self-actualization, the other needs must be satisfied first. Seems easy. Air, water, food seems like a no brainer. It should be like the 200 points on the SAT for writing your name, but what the fuck do you do when this is your stumbling block? You are pretty much getting your shoelace stuck on the starting block when the starter pistol goes off. Peers and contemporaries start to pull away, leaving you far behind with one shoe untied. To compound the problem, say you start backwards and work from the top down. It would be like building the roof of a house first, which makes it nearly impossible to build a sturdy foundation to support that roof and everything just falls apart.

On the other hand, say that you take the time to go back and get all of those things that you wanted, which to a child or teen seem like needs. Tickle-Me-Elmo's were the equivalent of air and water for many kids a few years ago and in their eyes, these were needs. All you had to do to see evidence of this was look down an aisle in a toy store and see the mom or dad trying to drag a crying kid out of the aisle. Or, for the teen example, you go back and make out with Alyssa Milano from Who's The Boss and imagine how pissed Tony Danza is going to be when he finds out. This also probably leads to the adult behaviors that you can see in front of a Fry's the night before the X Box 360 comes out. The thing is, these guys did get and still have that Millenium Falcon. They probably still play with it, too. So, you fulfill those needs in a modern setting with the same desire even though, the boxes smell stale and the same luster is not physically there, but you see it. It would be like dating Erin Gray now and seeing her as she was on Buck Rogers. People would look at you like you were dating an old lady, but in your eyes she would be walking around in a white jumpsuit and heels. Would this give you closure and allow you to move out your state of self-imposed-frozen-in-time-crutch?

I tried to think of anything that I wanted in high school that I didn't get and I think it would break down to the Seve Vai signature Ibanez. They only made 777 of them and each one was numbered and signed by Steve Vai. They had a DiMarzio PAF pickup on the neck and bridge and a single coil Dimarzio in the middle position. They were desert sun yellow and had a handle cut into the body. In retrospect, they were kind of horrid. The thing is, I remember one Christmas, my mom went above and beyond and tracked one of these down for me. I was probably 15 years old that Christmas. I had snuck around and found it under the bed in my parent's bedroom and my bedroom became like an ER waiting room while I paced waiting to get information on a loved one except my loved one was guaranteed to recover and have some kind of bionic super power in one week's time. Christmas morning, I was in no rush as I sauntered up to the tree and saw the guitar case and opened it up and found a pink, Japanese Fender strat inside. You could almost hear an audible Buwah-Buwah. I think that was the moment that I learned about sure things, as well as taking things for granted which I have excelled at ever since. I think the saying is never count your eggs before they have been cubed.

On top of everything, my mom had traded in my first guitar that I ever owned (a red BC Rich Warlock) to get the pink guitar, so you can probably sprinkle a little loss on top. I'm not playing a victim or feeling sorry for myself, those are pointless exercises of hurting yourself and people will wait in line for the chance to hurt you, so you really don't need to do the work or take the enjoyment away from them. Had I got the guitar that I wanted, my life would be no different. I am sure of this. I was 15 for chrissakes. That guitar was a little much for a guy who was having a hard time playing Smoke On the Water, which I think they are training monkeys to play right now. What I missed at the time and can see now is that I should have felt gratitude and love towards my mom trying real hard to get me what I wanted and then when that couldn't be done to try her best even though she was risking disappointing her spoiled brat kid. This would have set a foundation for building the second and third tiers of Maslow's pyramid, both the security and social part of it. Throw Christmas dinner underneath those and I would have been on track to be 60% there.

So, when you find that pair of shoes you have been looking for forever and the store has the wrong sizes and you try them on anyway, hoping they will fit, don't be pissed off that the shoes don't fit. Also, don't buy and wear the shoes that don't fit trying to trick yourself into believing that they are comfortable and they are for you. If they don't fit, they are not and never will be. Just be happy knowing that there is a pair of shoes out there somewhere that they make in your size and there is even a chance that you may find them. In the event that you don't find them, just be happy that they exist at all and that should give you the hope and faith you need to get through everything in between.

This is the point where you become aware that there are doers and sayers. The doers don't need to say anything and let their actions and their histories speak for themselves. Sayers have blogs.

This article is from AP and it is kinda awesome.

Sometimes you just have a really bad day..
Tue Nov 22,11:07 AM ET

A German man drank too much, wet his bed and set fire to his apartment while trying to dry his bedding, police in the western town of Muelheim said Monday.

"He was too drunk to go to the toilet," said a police spokesman. "The next morning he put a switched-on hairdryer on the bed to dry it and left the apartment." When the 60-year-old returned, his home and belongings were in flames.
Firemen eventually put out the blaze.

Just when you think it is safe to go back in the water...

What happens that makes bad feelings sneak up on you and kick your ass when you stop looking for them? Sitting here and I have had the best couple days of work in a while. Was seriously kicking ass and then it just started coming in waves. Started small and then a rogue wave hit me in the back of the head with a tire iron. Did I mention that I am not a strong swimmer due to my heritage.

So, I am sitting here trying to wade through it and affirmate myself out of it. There is really no reason for it. Things are pretty good. I haven't drank in a week. Obi Wan weekend which consisted of hiding out in my apartment for 48 hours was a grand success. I watched some movies, read a self-help book and got my computer back to pirate mode and things seemed pretty good. Got to work on Monday recharged and it felt great. I'm starting to think that since Wednesdays are my bad days, it's because this is a three day week and today is technically Wednesday. T-giving (not just another day) is starting to get to me, too, I think. Plus, on top of everything, I stumbled upon my marriage certificate in my car while trying to find an annoying squeak coming from the backseat. I need to move on. What's done's done and what'll be'll simply be. This week will be the test to see if I Wellbutrate for the rest of the holiday season. It has always been hard for me even when I am happy, so we'll see. Perhaps it is just mild seasonal affected disorder symptoms, but what do I know about any of that stuff? It's like Astrology in my eyes.

In other news, I have given my myspace password to someone which is basically like letting them see you naked. Wait...I guess it is the next step past that. Not bad for someone with severe trust issues.

Anyway, if I can't pull it together, I plan on driving my car to an old mill and gymnastic dancing. It worked for Kevin Bacon, why wouldn't it work for me? If that doesn't work I will have to buy a motorcycle and ride it past jets taking off and landing. If that doesn't work, I am going to have to fly a giant puffy dog around named Falkor. Obviously, I consider the present the Act II before my miraculous movie-style ending that I am planning on, to the point of watching rolling credits while I bask in my triumphant return to awesomeness. The only problem is that I know the sequel will probably be a bomb.

As a side note, I am really looking forward to Act III which will obviously be a montage of myself working towards awesomeness and it will either be set to Jukebox Hero by Foreigner or The Gentle Art of Making Enemies by Faith No More.

Found This

I found this spread in an old issue of Guitar World magazine with Steve Vai on the cover. It was from January of 1990 right when he got the Whitesnake job. I also was in the middle of doing the Steve Vai 10-hour guitar workout when I decided to post this. The clothes section is the best.

Plane Awesome

I just grabbed this article from SF Gate. I think he will get the award for excellence in dedication to the love of smoking in 2005. I am just wondering if the time he was sentenced was for the assault or the smoking. I get it for the assault, but for just smoking I figure a year ban and like a $200 fine. It looks like he smoked more than one, too. This guy is nuts. I wish there was more information about this/him. Is it right to throw mad props at him?

Now, cigarettes will get banned from planes, though. Watch. It will happen. Smokers are the last unrepresented and slandered minority in the United States. Where is the ACLU for us? You (the non-smoking American people) have pushed us out of your homes into the cold where we are forced to fend for ourselves while you sit inside breathing your warm clean air. We are people, too. Plus, it's common knowledge on the Inferweb that it is third-hand smoke that kills. Second hand smokers are the ones that should be feared. First hand smokers just smell bad and have yellow teeth.

Man Gets 15 Months for Smoking on Plane
Thursday, November 17, 2005

(11-17) 14:41
PST ATHENS, Greece (AP) --
A Greek court sentenced a man to 15 months in prison for smoking on a plane, and then hitting a male flight attendant who told him to put his cigarette out, court officials said Thursday.
The 50-year-old Greek resident of New York was also convicted of endangering the aircraft. He was traveling on Olympic Airlines Flight No. 412 from New York to Athens last week.
Flight attendants said the defendant had been smoking in the main passenger area of the plane and in the toilet.

The man, who remains free pending appeal, said a 45-minute delay in takeoff from New York had made him nervous.

Sweet Dreams Aren't Made of These

A running theme here is developing with dreams. Last night, after only two hours of sleep I awoke from a horrible dream where my ex was essentially dragging me through broken glass as I was tied behind a horse and cart like in an old western. I got back to sleep after a little bit and awoke with this dream on the tip of my brain.

I was in a spelling bee trying to spell "Hypocrite" and I just couldn't remember how to spell it. As I sat on stage sweating unerneath hot and bright lights I looked over at the judges with anxiety and pain from not knowing the answer. The judges were a husband and wife. The wife was a wine connoisseur, if not an afficonado of wine and the husband was a pot farmer, NRA member who had helped me find a jazz record at a four year old's birthday party on Labor Day and then listened to it with me on top of a washing machine. As they both stared at me, analyzing me, the anxiety built until I had to just completely drop out of the competition and give no answer at all. All of a sudden, there were no right answers to be given in the situation and it seemed like a better plan just to shut up and walk away. Then I woke up with no resolution to the dream situation. I tried to go back to sleep to find out what I had done, but there was no luck because my brain had already switched to work at that point.

Weird Dream

I had this dream last night that a Chinese man and his daughter knocked on my door. The little girl was holding a violin and was crying. I asked them what was wrong and the Chinese man said that his daughter was crying because she could not practice her violin because I was snoring too loud. I apologized and asked which apartment they lived in and he said that they lived above me. I thought about it for a second and then started yelling at him claiming that he had concrete feet and stomped around all the time and then he hung up the phone and disappeared. It was a dream so that would explain the transfer from the door to a phone call. Anyway, super weird. It may be coincidental, but Sunday I got a fortune cookie with no fortune in it. David Lynch is totally going to steal that scene from me, too.

I had my first two or three hour phone call since high school last night, too. That was different. It was nice and pulled me out of a funk a little bit. I would've been fine without it, but it was kind of like strawberries on angel food cake where the cake would be all right by itself, but it would be better with strawberries. Shaved onion might be good, too, but I had to let that go. It's for the best.

So one day...

...you wake up and realize you have slowly been destroying yourself. The smoking, sleep deprivation and not eating have slowly been deteriorating everything you ever wanted to be and everything you wanted to do.

When I was five I went to kindergarten with firetrucks on my boxers. I wanted to be a fireman. The other kids made fun of the boxers when I went to the bathroom and I was mortified so the dream of fighting fires died when I switched to tighty-whiteys.

The next dream was to become a magician like my mom's uncle Harold. Even to the point of having people call me by middle name, which was coincidentally Harold. I'm sure I would have put magnificent in front of it or something which would have cushioned the future blow of people calling me Harold. That died, too.

I saw Evel Kneivel on TV and then I wanted to be a daredevil. When I cranked my tiny Evel and shot him across my grandma's back patio it seemed completely plausible. Then I went out front to jump on my bike and do some jumps and it was gone. Somebody stole it.

At that point, I started running out of ideas of what I wanted to be. Still trying to figure it out, but I know I'm not really going where I want to be going. So, starting tonight when I go to bed, it's on. I don't want to be a hero, daredevil or even Neal Schon's hair. I just want to be the guy who no one notices. The guy who shows up by himself to a Christmas party with a bottle of wine who everyone asks who he knows there and then immediately forgets his name. I want to add nothing to conversations and make no one laugh unless they mean something to me. I want to sleep eight hours a night. I want to like Jack Johnson and Dave Matthews. I want to think that Meet the Fokkers was comic genius. The show needs to end and I don't want to perform for strangers anymore. It's a waste of time and drains me. Here's to tomorrow.

Point. Counter Point.

Question: Is there a point to fighting/arguing after splitting up with someone?
Answer: A completely useless act. The point B of the whole event is nothingness. It's proven in the third law of happiness as proven by Franklin Russellbaum. How can so much energy result in absolute zero? Technically, not absolute zero, but guilt and anger would be considered negative energies, hence having a less than zero value. Trying to stay positive, anything less than zero should be considered bad. Counterpoint to all of this is if you wanted to go for it, you could totally win a fight or an argument if you have no vested interest in person B anymore. There's the rub. Probably should join a debate club instead of arguing or fighting anymore. By the way, word on the street is that I'm a jerk. Prove it.

PegBoy

So, a pirate walks into a bar...and starts buying rounds for the whole bar last night. I kept getting him to talk like a pirate and almost peed myself laughing. Then, he started trying to give hundred dollar bills to strangers and I kept telling him to put his money away and telling said strangers that he's wasted. Then he got weird. Proves you can only do so much. Oh, and I am also banned from playing Jump by Van Halen on the jukebox at the bar from now on. It's fine because I negotiated to still be allowed to play Unchained which is my favorite Van Halen song anyway.

Also, why don't people understand that modern country is watered down, shitty rock? Even when you explain it to them. I sent two people home last night with a homework assignment. They are to listen to Hysteria by Def Leppard and then right afterwards they must listen to Shania Twain or something like that. Shania Twain is cheating because she actually does make Def Leppard records because she is married to Mutt Lange, their producer. Anyway, the country will sound just a little shittier, but not that different than the Def Leppard record. Finally, at the end of it, put on any Johhny Cash album and notice the drastic change from new country music to real country music.

I think what sparked that conversation was that punch-in-the-nuts halftime thing where Tim McGraw sings a song about the past weekends football games. You are ABC and you merged with Disney. That's the best you can do?

As usual last night, I was talking to some people and they wanted me to get in their cab with them and go partying. It was a Monday. Can't do that. It got me thinking, however, that people try to put me in cabs with them a lot. The only problem is that even with the 25% of the times that I have accepted nothing good has ever come out of it. Weird things always happen.

Moral of the story: Don't ever get in a cab with a stranger...That shouldn't even need to be a moral. It's so obvious. God, I am so stupid sometimes.