Monday, February 28, 2011

Blogs that score your business success...

One on one, “I need to see now’s…” typed out office letters that carried the scent of White Out, long drawn out telephone conversations, boring group meetings in rooms so hot male sweat from six meetings back continued to fill the air. This is how bosses once took charge of getting their words, demands and commands put into action.

Today we’re seeing text messages, email’s on personal accounts, never ending meetings to announce we’re going to have another meeting and the every popular, “Hey gotta a minute…” when they should’ve said, “I need an hour.”

The world of business is too busy to conduct business and the one time messenger isn’t available because companies have streamlined too close to the bone.

To help make up for it, leader’s are putting extreme amounts of faith in social networking tools to reach your place on the map to do nothing more than GPS your booty back to their chosen destination; the best communication to date is blogging.

I’m not talking about Dear Jane Diaries or blogs about how to take better care of your heart and kids. Companies have set up inner office blogging sights where leaders can tap into your process hourly, daily or the next time a great thought requires support. What makes it an incredible tool isn’t how quick and on the go it is but rather the idea that many of todays newly crowned more up to date leaders are giving employees a place to be heard. They have the opportunity to reply, to add to or suggest taking away.

The age of face to face conversations is over. Having social skills requires nothing human and everything computer.

In front of 200 writers this past weekend I vibrantly shouted, “I love the internet! The author in me cherishes every moment that I can pick up a subject and run without having to deal with witch eyes and a big nose with a wart the size of New Jersey staring back at me. I love it when a single thought can wrap itself around the world and become a reality within an hour.”

On the other side of the white picket fence is a coworker that disagrees claiming the idea of blogging and not physically talking has destroyed the foundation of success. So he spends the majority of his day walking through the building extending his open palm to others who require his creative services.

Neither side is wrong…

As much as I thoroughly enjoy human relationship and the process of generating layer after layer of history from its success…results require instant attention to which blogging gifts me with. I honestly get more from blogging with Master Todd Harris than I do sitting a class.

The coworker calls the act one based on laziness believing eye to eye contact makes the relationship firm and unwilling to break at the edges.

The art of reacting without assuming is the single more powerful pet peeve I have with social networking. I can’t hear what the emotion is saying coming from their fingertips.

According to the man behind the book Tribes, Seth Godin believes blogging and other social networking quickly tightens up the workplace by putting communication at the top of the game. He uses business consultant Meagan McDonald as a great example because she doesn’t fall into the typical business tactics of using sports phrases and motivational speaker affirmations to guide her tribe. Blogging makes leaders out of everyone. It enforces the idea of utilizing the strength of conversation to figure out your own path without having to rely on waiting and waiting and waiting for a department head to bless your decision with spiritual energy to get the job done.

Through blogging there are no cries for help, belittling of employees or voices raised.

We use blogging in my current world of radio commercial production and have accessed more lines of success in the past three months than the five years I’ve led this team. The moment you stop talking about your day and put focus on the efforts of getting the job done properly the easier the final steps are in leading your business toward tomorrow and seeing it as less of a challenge because through blogged team communication the end result is less pressure on the different departments involved.

Blogging has taken a bad rap from Face Booker’s and other web sites that allow too many to live vicariously through the chapters of poets, politicians and people who can’t stop talking. When you take the time to invest more of your business into the act of blogging by using it as a place to communicate the result is a much tighter ship.

Your decision is to lead not manage. Godin calls it a critical choice. The hourly goal should always be to connect then inspire.

I call it my personal McDonalds fast food line…if the person taking the order is hitting the wrong buttons, the person at the first window is charging the customer the wrong amount which means the food picked up at window number two isn’t what the customer ordered. Company blogging that works is based on every role being an important part of the customer coming back. The only way that can happen is if everybody is shooting for the same goal and that requires conversation. Get your business to start blogging. Your life will change. If you still believe in face to face meetings host a party. Until then catch up with the competition.

I will always believe in you first…

Friday, February 25, 2011

Never lost always found...

Author Brian Andreas writes, “I buried a nickel under the porch when I was eight but one day my grandma died and they sold the house and I never got to go back for it. A nickel used to mean something.”

A nickel? What about first love necklaces and rings? Signatures scratched into house sized rocks in a dark dense forest or behind a bright red with a silver top fire extinguisher near a newly designed elevator? I did that. Took a black Sharpie and penned out Mayor Pat is the new man in control then dated it. Had no clue he’d stay in office for six terms.

Also took the number of hours the average person worked in the Twin Towers only on September 11, 2001 and on the first year anniversary took those minutes and quickly without hesitation hand painted what I could a 64x48 of the Statue of Liberty on a basement wall of a radio and television station then stood by as carpenters constructed a secondary front over it for a future generation to discover.

We all hide things…secrets, personal journeys, reasons to believe and a purpose to disagree. Trees like to hide their roots until nature stops by with a thunder cloud of many and within a few decades all that seemed hush hush is unleashed for squirrels to turn into monkey bars and gymnastic play things.

Modern day automobiles are built with such strategic limits on how much engine is seen, Uncle Kevin and other folks with nifty Sears brand tools feel like fools because this socket doesn’t fit that nut because whose hands are that tiny to loosen up the front?

Look how much the banking world hid from its customers before the recession that really was a depression crashed into soils not seen since the original Black Friday. If you believe everything you read in Rollingstone Magazine you’re easily convinced it’s still taking place but the big bad sheriff in town isn’t doing anything about it because there’s nobody big enough to take on the bully except the Chinese to whom we owe billions to.

Have you ever hid money? The choices might have been behind walls, under boxes, beneath bed sheets in the hallway closet, in a jar by a door, under a rug, the backseat of the car, a Swiss account or in your pants pocket only to learn it paid for someone else’s lunch because they found it floating in the washing machine.

I remember cutting holes in my childhood bedroom walls and floor; whatever required to speedily conceal nickels, dimes quarters and fake diamonds from gumball machines from brothers and sisters that creatively came up with brilliant excuses as to why they wanted it more than me.

As a teen the hiding game moved to mountain sides and caves once named Indian but the state went politically correct so now the road signs read: Pictorial. Returned many, many chapters later, paid off a ranger who allowed me to cross a fence, climb the face of some extremely tall sand stone and walk to the cliffs edge to lay my hands on the tree once young and filled with a Montana breeze only to learn someone had dug up before me. Therefore it wasn't meant to be.

We all hide things!

The rich hide cars, boats, fourth and fifth homes, stocks, bonds and reasons to believe in common people. The poor hide their dreams.

Author Brian Andreas writes, “I buried a nickel under the porch when I was eight but one day my grandma died and they sold the house and I never got to go back for it. A nickel used to mean something.”

The next time I see a coin, feather, bracelet, pen or anything that looks as if it’s attached to a memory all beaten up and bruised…I’m going to let it stay for another day knowing its true owner might be on their way back to collect what a simple thought and desire set free during a moment when the human heart set aside its biggest fears and for one single unannounced second they trusted faith.

I will always believe in you first…

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Just a poet with a pen...

A school of broadcasting set out to test the waters; how passionate, loyal and dedicated is the one called Arroe? My laugh and reply on the cell phone rocked the Richter scale in Honolulu, Hawaii, “I know of Arroe but completely stay away knowing I can’t live up to his hourly expectations.”

Silence on the other side…not even a cricket or a toad from a crusty old sound effects library would waste its time supporting the inside joke.

“We may share the same address but I never see him.”

How else can you explain the mind numbing experience of standing where life has taken you; one day your complaining about having one more year of high school then suddenly you’re Skyping with a set of eyes that look like yours but how did they get here and where were you during the ride?

An interview video taped three years ago at the Kellar Radio Talent event hosted by legendary consultant Dan Vallie at Appalachian University in Boone, NC has surfaced; yep, it’s him…long bright red streaks in the hair, eyes that dart across a room quicker than the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland and a story that sinks into core of value versus a Red Bull tainted quickie. Lord have mercy do I really have to sit here and listen to his philosophies on producing radio commercials that affect rather than infect a listener passing by?

Seriously…this reaction is far from being a head hanging loner caught on Atlanta’s Spaghetti Junction; even without a shovel to dig deep into paths created, each who participates with the spins that turn the planet have found it at times or continue to find it extremely difficult to sit still in a room with the many selves and faces we’ve become in the process of growing.

My latest spin connects a lot of chapters and hidden personalities sworn to never meet, the writer, musician, producer and marketing ear of a 32 year on-air radio veteran that stopped years before reaching his potential. How a single thought tossed about the car at four in the morning on I-485 meeting 77 in Charlotte has created such a large wave reaches the part of the island deemed unexplained.

Completely disappointed with being shoved off the air again and again the arguing voice of a thousand in my head said, “Write a book…and call it Conversation with the Devil.

I fought back for three miles! How dare I attempt to use such a title! People will judge it like a cover. And so they did. But I kept pushing forward. Today its read by more residents living in the UK then ones imagination can handle and my sister Susan in Montana uses the book to help alcoholics and drug abusers locate peace. The book inspired music to be born; seventeen songs in a project self dubbed Pieces from a Faceless Beast. The raw tracks influenced a recording studio to pick me up and give it a more serious edge that’s taken over a year to lay down for its final mixes.

Ask me about it and I’ll quickly turn away. Until last week when a school teacher unexpectly mentioned, “I’m looking for someone who writes poetry and figures out a way to turn it into music.”

A two year journey that’s finally reached the point it was intended to touch.

I live by one rule; from Julia Cameron, “Let him display his art so he can learn to ignore criticism.”

I fear you, my mother, my boss and anything else that comes with an opinion yet today I need to know which song or piece of poetry should I share with the five to ten year olds this Saturday morning?

NOTE: None of these songs are professionally mixed they are 100% more raw than a steak found in the meat section of Harris Teeter.

Song one: Hurt So Slow

Written about the most recent loss of a great friend’s son before his time…a daughters words minutes before Christmas rang through all things dark allowing peace to grow in corners that one day would be visited. Although its wrong for me to explain a song because a listener should develop their own interpretation; I believe as writers, every twist, turn or long highway can find strength if you take a simple thought at 4am and give it air. This song has never been shared wtih those who brought music to my writing instrument.

Song two: Stopped By

I had just returned from the Levine Children’s Hospital recording interviews in places the real world never sees unless there is tragedy. In one room a tiny voice asked, “Why are you here?” To which I replied, “I just stopped by…and the song says the rest.” Nobody at the hospital has ever heard it…its been in hiding since its creation.

Song three: The Beast

We’ve all been here…the only problem is, nobody but doctors addicted to prescribing drugs have the power to help get you out. I don’t do drugs. I write…

Now its your turn to vote…which one should I share with the kids this Saturday morning?

Now its my turn to challenge you to follow your gut feeling. If your mind hears something...see it through. You have no clue how many lives will be touched by something you assume is nothing when to the rest of the world it could be a moment of music creating long sought after peace.

I will always believe in you first...

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Wednesday, February 23, 2011

You can't divorce your job but you can marry your front yard...

What is it about the presence of spring that turns neighbors into worker bee beavers glued to a mission of recreating a better looking yard than last year? They put in over forty long a** hours of work M-F only to spend 48 more hours on Saturday and Sunday bending over, chopping, digging, replacing and whatever else is required to match the picture on the cover of Home and Garden.

The more I drove down our quiet city street the larger the guilt bubble expanded in the core of my gut; I’m not a Home Depot/Lowes lovin shape shifter with gifted powers to unmask the hidden art in a hillside more ancient than Native American’s arriving BC. The perfect yard isn’t long slivers of grass blades that tickle the areas between your toes in ways no human can excite the heart’s invisible passion.

I love it when the six pack of white tail deer wander into the rose garden and spend twenty minutes devouring the leaves. I laugh a child’s giggle when momma flops down near a gnome and acts as if she’s talking to something made of ceramic. I crave the true to life beaver that spends its afternoons gnawing away on sticks stuck in mud then hauls it away to the assumed secret hiding place.

Therefore I keep my circle 110% Carolina.

Maybe I’m wrong but the lack of sidewalks shouldn’t be stacks of perfectly cut twigs for the trash people to easily pick up. As bad as I feel about being stuck behind a Sunday driver in the rat race, I’m not afraid to respect everybody’s journey toward locating inner peace outside each of their separations between church and state.

My biggest weakness is a true love for the bald tree. A single white twenty five foot sky scratcher that’s given up on sprouting lime colored leaves in spring. Every year I’m scolded by the passerby’s to let the tree go, “Cut it up into itty bitty pieces and give it back to nature!”

What gives? Bald isn’t just a human trait! The bald eagle is unforgettable! South Carolina peaches aren’t hairy they’re fuzzy which according to some rule books is bald. The Chinese Crested dog is bald. Bald Head Island is for tourists and what about how Mt St Helens suddenly becoming bald in the 80’s?

I can’t imagine walking up to a bald headed man and saying, “You’re numbers up.”

Buddhist Monk Thick Nhat Hahn calls each experience shared in our front yards a flash of insight. Every family with their yards of plentiful flowers, brick design, paths of stone and little water fountains of peace has good intention, the main being an unexposed strength to preoccupy what your job or career has taken away. Your front yard is the best medicine for stress.

No matter what you choose to bring color to this spring and summer Thick Nhat Hahn explains that each creation separates you from the dictator that prevents you from enjoying the wonders of life. Your first step is mindfulness. Putting yourself in the present.

Research shows that what we put into our front yards is the exact opposite of what we’ve been trained to do in a world of business. Corporate America expects you to do several things at one time. Every new shape of technology may promise an easier way to perform our duties but in the end it leaves the door open for you to do even more work.

Front yards don’t demand multitasking. Mindfulness teaches us the correct way to succeed in happiness; one vision or project at a time. Front yards give us focus which serves as an invitation to other living things such as deer that eat my flowers, beavers that take down innocent seedlings and crows that bark louder than a dog six blocks from a blaring radio another state away.

You can’t buy the ability to bring joy to suffering. I don’t give a rats butt if you’re a CEO or a billionaire with a television show, without mindfulness and the presence of the present you are in essence giving permission to the dictator to continue controlling your deepest wish to be nothing more than happy.

At work there is fear, pain, sickness and weakness from the strongest sales team, doubt, pouting in corners, shame, hatred and jealousy. Your front yard tells a different tale. I have a bald tree with no leaves that happens to share the funniest stories! When I’m not listening being bald makes him so different that no matter how clouded the mind and imagination is it’s got the power to reach out and say, “I need your belief in the now to be in the now.”

End the suffering…befriend your front yard while allowing others to do the same in their own way. Learn to walk in true peace by helping to creating it.

I will always believe in you first…

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Dear God what am I feeling? The story of Zondra continues....

The next Arroe Collins interview with Zondra is available...4 weeks after breast cancer surgery what's become her new unexpected challenge and what's it like for a school teacher to be away from her students this long? Dear God What Am I Feeling? Zondra's story continues....

Here's an idea...stop calling yourself the big loser!

I call it the Great Silence Maker, maker, maker, maker! Whoa! Did you hear that echo? Call it a fascination, addiction, appreciation or just a middle aged radio wanna-be fool dedicated to locating the invisible worlds an artist escapes to before, during and after the imagination has spoken.

There’s not a person in the world that doesn’t bump into a coworker, family or friend who used to be. A used to be! I used to be! I’ve been so many used to be’s that a Super Wal-Mart isn’t big enough to hold everything attempted once, twice or three times because it was funky fun.

My addiction, fascination, appreciation and wonder don’t sit in the extended arms of those who’ve made it but rather the individual that chose to stop. What did you hear? Maybe something flew out of the sky and landed on your shoulder shouting, “Stop! I said stop!”

Did another person convince you to bring your dreams to a screeching halt? I’ll never forget the heart doctor boldly stepping forward, “I know how much you love Tae Kwon Do. I understand the passion you’ve put into your studies and how you believe it saved your life. But in reality…your broken heart belongs to me and from this day forward we’re going to do what I suggest.” Mentally I’ve never been the same. It feels like my favorite Beatle has passed away again and again.

Here’s the thing…I ain’t the only used to be.

For several years I’ve blogged about the multitude of reasons we’ve chosen as to why we quit, turned a page, came to Y in the road or elected to pull off the highway and not recharge the batteries. Not only have I heard it all but used the very excuses to bring silence to a part of my life that once brought incredible amounts of peace as well as joy.

First…let me clearly state we're all artists; bankers, bakers, painters, wood cutters, musicians, writers, doctors, coffee blenders, sales reps…everything we do is art.

One of the biggest artist killers is allowing others to hold the rights to bringing judgment to your final presentation. Nothing silences me faster than a passerby commenting about the mood I must have been in while painting, “Oh I see there is darkness in this piece. You must have been sad, depressed or feeling a need to hide.”

Allowing someone to talk you into a mood you probably weren’t in is a dangerous place to dry your art.

I physically have no problem looking at the gawkers and softly saying, “Bite my butt.” This might explain why none of my art is currently hanging in galleries. The very second you stop sharing your visions the universe sees it as reason to hand the gift to someone who finds enjoyment in taking it to a different level of performance.

So I ask, “Who currently owns my style? Will I ever get it back?”

Painting black tulips doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent or the job market is overshadowing your poisoned loyalty of supporting a working nation. Bright yellow cupcakes are the farthest thing from happiness on crack. Cranking up a car and letting it shove gassed up pistons into the soul of NASCAR fanatics doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a speed junky upset with the last ticket a peaceful police officer intelligently handed to you on an assumed out of tune morning.

Bald headed men with endless amounts of connected tattoos are book covers judged heavily by Corporate America. Vibrantly dressed Lady GaGa clones that once followed Madonna don’t stand a chance to land a decision maker’s position inside a theme park’s head office. It freaks me out to report that the 80’s flick series Revenge of the Nerds truly was a documentary based on the way the world was about to become! Nerds are holding down the best paying jobs while the rest of us who were taught to be ourselves are silenced by the art we trusted. Wait... I take that back. Being a Nerd is an art form too.

So what's the problem?
Having passion means nothing in today’s modern market because those who still hold it have chosen not to share what little is left fearing once its gone they’ll instantly be branded a used to be. Showcasing loyalty, determination and a zillion plus two ideas that could lift a company back to positive dollar amounts means nothing because those in control have invested so much money in research that visionary performers are instantly labeled outcasts and are treated like grey cubical gnomes that are told to stay planted in the companies policy or find a way to nearest exist.

We used to be… If we don't change you'll be stuck telling your grandchildren how great this country used to be.

Do something about it. It’s time to find enough steam in your shorts and re-invent the thong. The day has arrived to stand up and make a lot of noise calling the effort the last great hurrah! Pick up your puzzle pieces scattered about this worldly world shove that finger high into the air that tells everyone that you are still number one! Stop letting people stare into the corners of your art and locating another reason to set it aside.

I will always believe in you first…

Monday, February 21, 2011

Dear God what am I feeling? The story of Zondra continues....

Monday February 21, 2011
The minds eye is too quick to forget. When things become out of sight human connection begins its journey toward becoming unimportant. This is why I’ve dedicated my life to the art of attracting then re-attracting.

Four weeks after Zondra’s surgery her positive presence is still missing from the school where she teaches. I had hoped heavily on her making an appearance at Friday nights Valentine’s Dance. The students would have flipped with excitement which might serve as the reason why the distance continues. The doctor said six weeks.

Today I reached out wanting to record another interview. No answer. I refuse to rest while believing she’s resting.

Her silence has forced me to dig deeper into the chapters already written by actresses who’ve battled this disease; Jaclyn Smith of Charlie’s Angels fame one the most haunting, “It’s the news nobody wants to hear. I remember going home and telling my husband to get it off me! Just get it off!”

Although Zondra granted me permission to step into the private levels of struggles she would face, it’s this silence I want to write about most. She isn’t the first but through her disconnections we can all learn how to walk stronger.

I miss hearing the laugh; a burst of energy that shoots from the corners of an imagination locked on always being first in line for something great to say. I know of the doctor’s visit last week but know nothing of what was spoken behind the doors closed to cut off the world still moving forward.

My wife and granddaughter Mia were with Zondra; it’s so important that the seven year old is able to see the unexpected changes delivered at times when having fun should’ve been taking place but a different ending was designed. Mia was with me at the heart specialist carefully staring at the nurses and doctor studying every page of the reports my ticker was sending. These are the lessons untaught in school and kept far away from the canals that feed the journey soon to be called reality.

I’m told Zondra’s eyes lit up when she saw Mia. Hidden behind a mask, smiles were shared but not germs. The student and the teacher meeting in ways that poets can’t write about because there aren’t enough descriptive words created that best paint the portrait of compassion led by effectively being involved.

Come on phone ring! I want to hear your voice! Biting the edges of these writing fingers…it’s difficult to keep assumption from falling onto a page not already written on.

Put a little more you into your leadership role at work...

Being open to all writers and their styles there’s always going to be a quote that forces me off this busy highway because laughing too hard has flooded my eyes with unstoppable tears of connectedness.

Seth Godin prints out, “Should they build a statue of you? How much ego is involved in being a leader?”

If this was a ten second intro of a great Bon Jovi song I’d end the blog there!

Due to the structure of the economy, in the past five years American businesses have been introduced to several different styles of leadership; good, bad, friendly, lost, completely untouchable and some absolutely unexplainable. I’d love to see the numbers that determine how many employees truly believe in the makers of their biweekly paycheck.

Should they build a statue of you? How much ego is involved in being a leader?

I can only think of three radio people in my 32 years in the biz that have earned the right to be dipped in bronze then set out in the sun to continue educating their morals to the generations they’ll never meet. This isn’t to say other’s who’ve tried aren’t worthy. Today’s market doesn’t require a natural born leader to succeed; it chooses instead to put unheard of time limits on single attempts which does nothing but dirties up the soil with dried up seed shells that could’ve been but without proper fertilization the end result is a dream cemetery.

Author Seth Godin is firm in his way when trying to explain true leaders lead. It’s about relationship and the openness of allowing there to be.

When I was asked to lead a production department in Norfolk in 2005 my first goal was to initiate the idea of never being what I had before me. Utilizing the basics taught by Julia Cameron in The Artist Way at Work, the first rule to follow was to include everybody for who and what they are and not what I wanted to make them. I dubbed it The Beatles; four completely different people that clearly had the talent to be solo artists but as a single unit their harmonies have lasted over fifty years. Now toss in a fifth member Billy Preston and George Martin whose final results would catapult a simple sound into spectacular new beginnings.

Godin explains, “Great leaders are able to reflect the light onto their teams. Great leaders don’t want attention; they use it as a way of uniting, helping to reinforce its sense of purpose.”

He uses the example of Fidel Castro’s seven hour speeches being mandatory; it robbed from the desire to participate. When CEO’s and Department Heads take on the same shape—they aren’t leading they’re taking.

I’ve broke bread with more entrepreneurs who left corporate circles not because of failure but over saturated amounts of upper level decisions makers trying to be what they couldn’t master while climbing the company ladder. Once certain positions are met the next step is always to look over your shoulder and quickly defeat the strongest person fully capable of making much larger waves than what was required for you to hoist a leadership flag. The only war most companies know is how to start a friendly battle between coworkers totally taking their game plan off the competition.

Should they build a statue of you? How much ego is involved in being a leader?

Before you answer that question pull off what Andrew Ashwood shoved deep into the budding souls of his hand built foundation, “Before anyone can lead you have to understand what’s being asked of you. That requires communication with your weakest team player not just today but everyday until they’ve accessed the knowledge to lead their own team. If you truly want to make it to the Hall of Fame ask yourself constantly what you’re doing in the way of influencing the people that’ll help you pick up the ball when it’s been bounced one too many times and this time it’s rolled under a greasy car. Which player will risk getting dirty out of passion rather than an order to keep you looking clean and brand new?”

If you can’t match those expectations you’ll never be anything more than a wanna-be with a lot of power to make a lot of dreams go silent. Welcome to the new America!

The moral of today’s story…no matter where you stand in line at work you’ve always got my permission to lead.

Friday, February 18, 2011

Get back up without hitting a big sale!

Attended the premiere of the soon to be released springtime romance Beastly; Neil Patrick Harris is blind with a keen eye focused on the inner visuals of human emotion, entanglement and peaceful means of easing up on the pressures that usually destroy relationships.

Alex Pettyfer is caught off guard when he stumbles into a room where Patrick is fashionably dressing himself in an extremely high end business suit complete with a stylish tie. Turning to face Alex, he allows no conversation to begin by confidently stating, “What? You think I dress like this for you and others? Beauty begins on the inside and looking this great makes me believe I’m unforgettable.”

Stop right there! Take a look at what you’re currently wearing. Forget the Corporate American ladder of success, the coworker that recharges dull batteries and the Krispy Kreme chef that constantly tosses some extra sugar your way; what message are you currently sending to your self?

Do you feel like a leader? Are you itching to hit the fast approaching weekend? Does the way you look resemble the performance that’s slap happily played out because at times even a Wal-Mart greeter comes with too many responsibilities? No matter what you’re answer, over the next 48 hour period how many times will you express to your family and friends how much you hate your job, hat your life and hate the government for allowing gas prices to reach unheard of heights?

I am no fashion expert nor do I play one behind closed doors but I will share that no day passes that I’m not hitting the floor several times through the day knocking down serious rounds of pushups, sit ups and whatever else is going to shove more blood in the vibration required to survive.

I stole the trick from Country music’s Billy Ray Cyrus who flies all over the world promoting cd's, television shows and concerts and no matter where his ride lands or takes a pit stop he reaches out to a person to help him locate a place to layout a long line of intensified exercises.

Beauty begins on the inside and looking this great makes me believe I’m unforgettable.

How much money do you spend on mopping up the mess? Hey! Before my heart attack in 2009 Arby’s, McDonald’s and Taco Bell where my daily downloads of pick me back ups. I’ve never smoked nor do I drink so I’ve got no clue how to bust those habits; ask me about walking away from fast food and we’ll spend week’s gliding through invisible paths of recovery.

But why pushups and sit ups? I tried the water trick…when the buzz in your gut gets too much fill it up with water; 200 ounces a day nearly wiping out my electrolytes. When the electric supply begins to die…Houston we aren’t keeping our feet on the ground and reaching for the stars.

Beauty begins on the inside and looking this great makes me believe I’m unforgettable.

You can’t hit every 90% off sale at Target, Old Navy and Steinmart! Five, ten or twenty five push ups in an office kitchen, outside on the front lawn or next to your desk are 100% always going to be free. Warning: Do not throw yourself down in the privacy of your company bathroom! You have no clue who was there before you?

There’s no better way to eliminate stress and the horrid amount of ugly it invites to your approach of trying to be happy. It’s a pain in the a** to discipline yourself into believing it’s the right thing and more importantly its freakishly embarrassing when someone walks into your office or space and catches you on the floor out of breath with a bright red face.

Taking a walk at lunch or during a break is incredible exercise until you stop pushing yourself to walk a little stronger than yesterday. Life is already a treadmill; too many of us are on the moving ship with no way of knowing how ugly we seem to ourselves. You always hear about how my butts too big, look at these hips and flab under the arms. Spend five seconds in the mirror looking into your eyes and none of that materialistic junk matters. The real problem is the depth of your perception.

Beauty begins on the inside and looking this great makes me believe I’m unforgettable.

Don’t want to work out? Read affirmations then create your own. Too many blogs suck the air from anticipation. Hollywood drama is worse than a lazy Ben Stiller movie. Learn to participate with the monkey that’s stuck in the cage of self and teach it a new process of reaching for a better banana.

The main reason why I love this recession has nothing to do with big business falling to its knees but rather it’s challenging you to finally try something new and different. Push you a** over the hump, through the wall, under the wave of water that seems endless and lets get you back to believing you’re unforgettable.

I share the meanest comment to my closest friends when I see they’ve given up, “Don’t bother sending me an invitation to your funeral. I tried my best to keep you alive.”

I’ll always believe in you first…

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Having a bad day? Let's play a game!

Growing up in a rickety old weather torn shack on a gravel road blessed with eight kids coming from three different families; the Brady Bunch was a group of armatures compared to the roots of my family tree.

In those days a swift kick in the butt from the stepfather’s well trained aim was recognized as discipline. As much as I felt a need to challenge a leather strap across the rump protected only by a pair of thin Kmart purchased pajamas; the investigative reports conducted while interviewing Grandparents and neighbors usually ended up being unrehearsed quotes, “If you were my kid, you’d get worse.”

Then it occurred to me; the best way to win is to play the ever popular never duplicated finger pointing blame game. Like Chutes and Ladders, being the middle child made everything perfectly brilliantly funky fun because the accusations tossed at me by four older brothers was instantly shot to those beneath my age.

Being a true Cancer though, compassion and understanding was silenced by guilt. My gut felt worse than the one week grounding or suspension from the phone they’d receive.

You know as well as I do; the blame game isn’t just a kid thing.

The great pyramid project of the Corporate American structure is flawlessly designed to force the decision makers to turn this nations worker bees into mere itty bitty powerless do nothing wimps and or pawns in a Chess Game. Example: When expectations aren’t met who gets the boot? When doubt takes over like crazed Justin Bieber fans who’s on the receiving end of the witches knotted index finger?

Lets take it further; in an age when bank accounts are nothing more than a fat ceramic pig with no plug in the bottom to stop coins from falling out…99.9% of the time the blame is placed on whom, what or where?

Dr. Richard Carson believes the blame game is deeply trenched into American culture making it too easy for those responsible to have just enough power to remove themselves from the actions and problems. Socially it’s led to lawsuits and ridiculous excuses that get criminals off the hook.

The blame game is a habit and like all habits the end result is destruction.

Blaming someone may take the pressure off you but on the opposite end of spectrum the receiver is often times angered, depressed, frustrated and extremely unhappy. But here’s the strange twist in life’s everyday highway; according to the Doctor nobody can be at peace while placing blame on others.

My third grade teacher Mrs. Stephenson was the first to vibrantly express that there’s a 75% chance the true culprit was the Dude with three fingers pointing back.

Test time! The Doctor challenges you to unlock your need to fall back on blame. For one day don’t send out a “you did it” wave.

Wait! Stop! Let’s make one thing clear; holding someone accountable for their wrong doing isn’t part of the blame game. Laziness at the workplace is a different day.

When the house is a mess don’t blame…pick up one thing. When your finances are trashed don’t point! Locate a place where you personally can cut back. Most importantly if something has made you incredibly angry or filled with depression ultimately it’s only you that can turn it off. Winning is a choice. So is being in a great mood.

Dr. Richard isn’t shy to open his notebook and share a valuable lesson; playing the blame game requires an enormous amount of mental energy that drags you down, which is nothing more than a shovel digging a hole thats filled up with amazingly high amounts of stress that lead to disease.

Blaming others ultimately makes you powerless over your own life because happiness is contingent on the actions and behaviors of others. How many people do you know that throw Hail Mary’s into a pool of coworkers destroying every inch of their dedication and loyalty only to find themselves walking away like Superman? That my friend is acting. On the inside they're a walking talking Godzilla marching toward an even bigger monster.

Be a choice maker…stop playing the blame game. Imagine what it’ll do to your past.

David and Gavin aren’t the reason why I stopped instructing in Martial Arts. I’ve never been a fan of the business; it turns great people into starving hogs. I see Tae Kwon Do as being a church rather than a money maker. My way out of instructing was to put blame on two out of control kickers and punchers. Once free I didn’t have to deal with mindless numbers, fake smiles or the constant demand of having to walk up to strangers to preach how beautiful the martial art is.

Now it’s your turn.

Remember…to be in peace doesn’t require protest. The right foot is placed in front of the left and you teach yourself to walk slowly. Peace grows where it’s allowed to blossom. Allow the sun to sink between your toes.

I’ll always believe in you first…

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

When I trip...I hear my father's voice, "Get up!"

I’m completely lost…barely a year ago the headlines read: The Great Recession is over!

Yet gas prices continued to move upward forcing food, clothing, the electric company and concert tickets to ride along side like a Harley Davidson motorcycle club searching for a nonprofit organization to support.

I don’t know enough about the Stock Market to celebrate why so many business people catch an hourly high off sleeping with digits that kiss but never tell after they reach 12,000; just as much as those selling the future have no clue what its costing you to drive to work.

I wrote a letter to my financial advisor and quickly received a reply from his boss who threatened to drop me as a customer. I didn’t write anything bad, evil or crass. I’m a poet with a pen! Guess not everybody listens to the lyrics of their favorite song on the radio. It was a tune called, "What's it like to have an $80,000 carpet in your office?"

A new CBS News poll clearly points out the majority of us don’t believe the recession is over.

Those words hit me while taking a jog on the treadmill designed to calm down the blood pressure. I wanted to stop the midlife crisis walker and puke. Why is it acceptable for your performance at work to be under a micromanagement microscope everyday but the moment you regain the courage to ask why a bank wants to charge you money for ATM card use the system immediately begins to question your participation?

I met a strange funny man with a raspy deep Country music style voice, a weird walk but keen sense of connection to a real America over the weekend; he said to me, “I sell more 17 foot trailers everyday than any time in my thirty years in the RV business.”

“Really?” I sharply questioned, “How can people afford to go on vacation?”

“They aren’t…” He laughed out loud, “They’ve lost their homes and the only roof they can afford is a camping trailer which will be parked in a cousin’s backyard.”

The only thing missing is a dust bowl…Hey! We’ve currently got a serious drought in the Carolina’s going on…what if the wind begins to whip up a bit?

How can I turn this writing into something positive? I’m supposed to be Captain Optimistic!

You know something is seriously wrong when Bob Dylan’s appearance on the Grammy Awards didn’t move a nation! Quick call Joni Mitchell! Peter Paul and Mary! Crosby Stills and Nash! Missing from the forefront of our cultured way of experiencing life are the storytellers of chapters past. We need Lennon softly singing about imagining all people living in peace!

I crank up Flo Rida’s Bottoms Up, Usher’s OMG, Black Eyed Peas Gotta a Feeling and everything from Rhianna, Drake and Bruno Mars but the language might be too much to sing leaving nothing in the way of creating a reason to think.

Ironman, Tron, The Green Hornet, Batman and Justin Bieber are superhero’s trapped inside a mad world. Has anybody stopped to think about the conditions of the cities they’re fighting to save? We’ve given permission to everybody connected to the recession to fix it. The day has come that each of us needs to step in it; get it all over our feet and create a trail across the living room carpet. Nothing can or will change until we start to recognize the stank.

For the first time since The Great Depression and World War II we the people of this great nation have been chosen to be the pioneers of the future now unveiled. That’s the positive! That’s the optimist staring into a half full glass of curled milk that’s been sitting outside the fridge since 2007.

Its time to start using the tools and build a shelter. Reconnect to reality.

Car pooling is no longer about going green. In a matter of weeks it’ll be more expensive to keep your tires on the road than it’ll be to hoist out cash for daycare. Saving it for a rainy day is what we did before the recession—take in a flat screen 2D movie and stop wasting it on 3D adventures that have no pay off. We’ve allowed these prices to hike their skirts and tease your common sense. Young adults forked out $38.50 per ticket for Justin B to be one of the first to check out his flick.

It’s completely 100% Capitalism running wide open when other companies believe they have what it takes to grab those same family dollars by offering things a little more and a little more and a little more expensive. It’s designed to become less freaky and more acceptable.

You’re supposed to be getting high off life not raising the price to an all time high. This spring plant a garden along side the house. Buy a $2 bottle of wine and get used to the flavor. Rather than waste your money on watering the lawn get a rain barrel. If we truly are in a drought stop fighting with God. Accept it by designing something more natural. Plant trees which creates shade while learning how to trap water from the humidity we’re blasted with.

City and County leaders have reappraised homes without calling it a new tax. Buy a 17 foot trailer and park it for 21 bucks a day in a state park. They have electricity and water and it only takes a second to hit the dumping station! If my doctor truly is correct and the only food you need is supposed to be no larger than your fist…get on a diet plan that in the end won’t bust the medication bank because modern day foods are sickness waiting to take a bite out of you.

Reconnect to reality. That’s today’s positive! In the 1930’s Mom was stuck in a bullet making plant; it’s the only work she could find. My first mother in law made combat boots for soldiers. Franklyn Roosevelt generated enough support to put these 48 connected states back to work. Two years ago President Obama shouted, “Yes you can!” That’s been dropped by the people for, “No I can’t. Or..that’s ok, I’ll be fine!”

My sister in law has lost her home. My neighbor Roger lost his home. How many house payments are you away from walking in the same shoes?

Hey American Idol is back on tonight. I love Steven Tyler! It’s Hollywood week!

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

To fail or not to fail...winning is a choice that requires concentration.


To a first grader, that’s a pretty long word. We’re talking thirteen letters! It’s not just any remark or declaration, this baby’s been part of your channel since the moment you processed the gibberish falling from those two pinkish red things firmly planted beneath your parent’s nose. describes concentration as paying close attention to one object; close mental application.

I get nothing from that.

Some might call it Corporate America talk, “You need to use more concentration!”

“I am! It’s not my fault these angry birds won’t knock down the structures quicker!”

The book Powers Within puts a different spin on concentration calling it the Master-Key; if you’re willing to gather the rays of attention and consciousness on one point and maintain this concentration with persistent will, nothing can resist it.
Oh my God that flew over my head!
To concentrate properly and effectively requires discipline. Your daily goal shouldn’t be to train yourself to focus on one thing but rather concentrating on the development of value. Nothing has the energy to break the strength of well trained concentration.

Some call it being in the zone or sporting a game face; personally I see concentration as being reconnected to the womb; the birth place of all things leaping from this system I’ve been forced to carry for forty eight years has to start somewhere and be it spiritual or nothing more than an artists point of view…the journey begins in the womb.

You cannot reach a level of business or private success without obtaining the intense and obstinate power of concentration. You can throw the best football, roll twelve strikes in a row, generate more new business for your company or teach chorus to a hundred and fifty caffeinated high school students but you can’t reach a level of being recognized for your performance and distance without learning how to cultivate the power of concentration.

Not all methods of concentration are the same…artists and scientists tend to push their thought process outward knowing the end result of their creation has the ability to become part of someone’s life.

People with strong imaginations tend to push their concentration levels upward allowing the universe or Great Creator to be part of the development of thoughts and or actions becoming reality.

Who I am as a radio disc jockey versus an in studio producer of commercials are separate rivers of performance. Jokingly I have no problem telling you Arroe can’t stand Arroe. Now toss in the published author and blogger, combined with the sloppy painter of people’s faces on portraits, the musician and martial artist; this might explain why 99.9% of what I attempt to write is never understood because too much concentration from too many personalities are trying to participate with a single expression.

I’m not the only one! Being employed today requires unheard of amounts of multi-tasking, slamming the common worker into shades of gray, blue, bright purple and whatever other color the company or sixteen part time jobs require. Teenagers are having heart attacks. Women having strokes has risen 51% in ten years. Verbal and physical battles between coworkers has Human Resource Departments scrambling for newer ways to save their best employees from being mowed over by a bad day gone worse.

If artists and scientists reach outward and individuals with strong imaginations lean back and shoot their concentration upward…what gives in the person that turns their energy downward?

While meditating I noticed early in martial arts studies how looking down seemed shove my concentration inward, to heal, to foresee, to visualize, to gather strength that had been lost, to tune out, to comfort self, to blend light with inner darkness allowing there to be warmth in cold corners of a world nobody sees but the feelings are hard hitting and extremely hurtful.

According to the Powers Within, it should be your daily practice to work the hinges of your concentration—some days you’re pushing outward, then up to the ceiling, down and around…learning to move your concentration makes you stronger as a person.

Writing this blog everyday requires focus; concentrating on the purpose of these pages pushes thought through the tips of my fingers and by way of modern day magic it somehow lands on computer faces in Germany, Russia, South Korea, Canada and Butte, Montana. Writing everyday has nothing to do with radio and everything to do with developing what I’ve always dreamed; being a Broadcaster.

What’s this have to do with you? Understanding the difference between focus and concentration sews a net to fall into on days when the world of business crashes. By way of exercising concentration you’re enabling the single stick in the mud that looks and walks like you to have enough confidence to sprout limbs making you the biggest most colorful tree in the forest.

What’s keeping you from obtaining financial success, recognition for your dedication given to a career, family peace and a child that listens rather than fights back? Might the missing key be the Master of all links? Concentration… Practice makes winners…

I’ll always believe in you first…

Monday, February 14, 2011

Love isn't much until you introduce it to unconditional...

Is it wrong to laugh at days like today? Rather than race, chase or pull from your heart strings the right words to say, share or sing; try choosing instead to sit back and watch the world attempt to catch up on something they should’ve been doing the other 364 days of the year.

Today, you’re one of two people; serious or not willing to participate. You will or won’t buy chocolates, flowers or send an email or text to someone with a tiny tingle of something unexplainable tucked in the caverns of your tummy that’s easily written off as anxiety, curiosity and or playfulness.

Valentines Day is a single 24 hour period geared toward reminding us to honor, to symbolize and to publically display what every hopelessly romantic wears on their sleeve like an embroidered branding stamped into the threads of life by a well known designer.

I am perfectly in love with the idea that having something that reaches beyond a personal liking for someone or something has a billion faces and very rarely are there two the same.

You don’t need a poet with a pen nestled next to a tree stump and a giant rock inside a cool Carolina forest to write; love is affection, adoration, friendship, tenderness, devotion, passion, having a fancy for, devotion, keen as well as partial to and there’s even that single row of colorful weeds that grow along a worn out highway that blossom each spring wearing flags that remind us that love cannot be unless the air is salted with indifference.

Every thirty seconds love is challenged and everything just mentioned isn’t worth its weight in gold, platinum or silver combined. How something so precious, pure, near innocent and radiant with energy from universes distant and next door ends up being the red tip of a matchstick destine to ignite a fire steals not only from a passerby but you who holds the key to something invisible until it reaches the tiny hairs linked to the skin on your left arm.

Love is an action to a reaction that your brain never understands; it’s the side of you that vows to be friendly but chooses to be protective instead. No wonder it’s so easy to quit. When there’s confusion the first reaction is to become angry when in reality all your brain needed was better communication.

Nobody wants to be what they’ve already seen so we spend as many minutes as possible creating unique. If not found, we instantly forget “the now” choosing instead to pick up a future that fate begins to devour.

The tops reasons for divorce and or separation, “We grew a part. We had indifferences and people aren’t who they were when love first took a bite out of their heart. ”

The human mind body and soul were designed to constantly search and through this incredible gift the brain decides what it loves, craves, becomes bored with or requires in order to feel alive while chasing down another tomorrow.

Go ahead and celebrate love today! Make it like a martial arts black belt test…you accepted the daily challenges of becoming a stronger student of life making love a foundation rather than another brick in the wall. Then on February 15, 2011 through February 13, 2012 take on the day by stimulating the importance of being in love. Don’t just reach for someone’s hand to hold, understand the texture of each curve and identify the boarders that ignite more compassion than passion while physically developing a cure called unconditional.

Till death do you part doesn’t mean until your love dies… Divorce today is no different than a business downsizing to better suit the owners needs. The laws need to be rewritten to say I fired them because:

Personally, I do not believe in teamwork because it makes someone within the circle lazy. They don’t have to work as hard as the others. If marriage earns you a tax break that means you’re making money off something that didn’t require dollar signs to fall into.

Stress steals from the heart and your brain is left to pick up the pieces. Humpty Dumpty was never put back together again but everybody got scrambled eggs. Love is like an egg, you can crack it, hatch it and fry it but if it’s not fully cooked the next step is salmonella.

I’ll always believe in you first…unconditionally….

Friday, February 11, 2011

Laugh until you puke then pour kitty litter it so you can laugh some more...

Is it still looked upon as being a fake laugh if when I laugh it’s protecting me from what the outside world is unexpectedly delivering?

Good day, bad day, bite your fingernails edginess, fear, loneliness, anxiety, boss that picks on you; whatever the shape, size or scent...there's always going to be a laugh located in the channels of your carved out caves.

What makes you laugh? A joke, a poke, a stick stuck in the mud with a flag that reads: Free boogers and flu…got too much in my house to handle.

A local comedian called while driving home; he’s convinced that a cure for our national divorce crisis has been discovered and it’s through laughter. I kept waiting for the punch line.

Steven’s teamed up with a doctor and through both professional practices they’ve developed a hard hitting but extremely funny delivery that helps rebuild the blood cells that crashed during the one, ten, fifteen or seven year itch.

I kept waiting for the punch line. He wouldn’t allow me to enter his platform without helping him locate a radio show that ripened his ready to pick fresh fruits and veggies.

“Here’s the joke Dude…unless it’s coming from Usher, Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga or Dr Phil; the best thing you’ve got going for you is podcasting.” (Insert Arroe laugh here)

Silence…the sound of midnight crickets kicking serious tail under a starlit Carolina summer night. Not clue about podcasting. Wow…in a real comedy club I would’ve been gifted with a heckler. I needed Pam Stone to warm up this ice cold audience.

Being on this side of the broadcasting lamplight where concert and movie tickets are plentiful and so is the endless amounts of free flavored coffee I often find myself forgetting how unimportant Social Media is to the masses. There are still massive amounts of our brothers, sisters, my mother and neighbors that remain completely unattached to what one day will be named the most talkative about nothing generation.

The only reason why 72% of us hit a web page is to laugh. The more we laugh the better we feel. I laughed so hard at a Craig Shoemaker show I woke up the next morning with bronchitis. I beat the %*#@* out of my lungs so hard the body sent the rest of me to timeout for six weeks.

My favorite commercial on TV right now is the ad that displays the coworker that wasn’t invited to the taco party. I bust a gut every time because I’ve been there. Laughter is the beginning middle and end result in the art of being an incredible communicator.

My worst disaster with laughter took place at a Barnes and Nobel poetry reading where I was invited to set free the words I keep; ooops no comedy. Manager was horribly disappointed because as she put it, “I guaranteed my guests and clients a night of upbeat fun energy.”

To which I replied, “Then you should’ve invited them to the radio station.”

No laughter…only silence like that of your favorite song fading on the radio and the disc jockey must be a sleep or caught outside because suddenly your car is consumed with dead air so heavy you’re beginning to get cramps in your toes.

I laughed…when don’t I laugh? In the middle of the laugh a different offer took shape, “If you want to motivate your guests then let me do an art show with the proceeds benefiting the Susan G Koman Foundation.”

Thus starting a new chapter; laughter, be it nervous, fear or fake has the ability to raise awareness by way of saving other peoples lives.

Don’t be afraid to let go of one…it’s not a fart. Who cares if you’re laugh is odd, nobody will mind if it smells like coffee or you snort like a water buffalo at the Asheboro Zoo. Who knows, your laugh might actually make someone fart and that will make you laugh harder.

I will always believe in you first…

Thursday, February 10, 2011

This Bieber kid could be bigger than what we think...

Never say never…

Enough said; put your pencil down, let’s move ahead. Anyone would drop the subject. I can’t.

Never say never… Instantly I’m given a mental image of Just Say No from Nancy Reagan, Just do it from Michael Jordon and Nike. McDonald’s has I’m loving it! What about Ford Tough?

This Bieber kid is onto something.

Never say never is the force behind what I assumed was the latest American fad. Thirty two years behind a radio microphone you’re gonna meet a lot of hits and misses but this spin is a little different. There’s no American Idol or America’s Got Talent, he wasn’t sold off to Disney or Nickelodeon and in every interview I study there truly seems to be an old soul artist locked up inside an imagination that’s willing give life to a world that’s chosen to sit down and quit.

I believe in reincarnation…who is this one?

Elvis? It’s too easy to shout, “Are you *&#@*# insane?” Elvis was endless with his love, compassion, and understanding. Bieber naturally without hesitation reaches inside another person’s life and gives like nobody I’ve seen not even Joel Olsteen.

Lennon? This is where my stomach turns because this poet craves what fell from the former Beatles writing instrument. Fatherless, common kid, a story lives within the walls of his unstoppable need to invite music to places of silence. John was deeply disappointed with his early years and the way he gave permission to his music to keep him from having what he valued most…family. Bieber surrounds himself with a solid wall of support fed by deeply dug in Christian roots that constantly command that he never lose a connectedness that fame tends to pull apart.

Michael Jackson?

Why can’t Justin have a slice of all three? In an age when being a kid requires you to be an adult by three; as faceless as music tends to be…the rhythms and beats of history can’t be changed which means everything grandparents once heard so do today’s growing nation.

Never say never…

If the one thing Bieber brings to the pop ups in the backseat of your car is a set of lyrics to sing then let them have their Frank Sinatra.

Can you tell I’m the angry middle aged adult that didn’t get the support from his parents to chase childhood music dreams? I snuck around Billings, Montana gluing my nose to radio station windows KOYN, Y93, KGHL hoping to find something that finally fed the unexplained itch in my feet; only to read in Wolfman Jack’s biography that nearly every person in radio is nothing more than a rock star wanna be that elected to sell their soul to spinning music because it doesn’t require lessons to read liner cards.

On Face Book today I wrote:

I wasn't a Bieber fan until I saw the movie. If my parents would have taken the time to believe in my musical would be the farthest thing from my current path. It wasn't until two years ago that I finally got the *#@%* to take my music serious and being in a real recording studio with Jimm and Alan is the most incredible experience of my life. I can't explain what it feels like to create a melody, a song hook and then hear someone humming it hours after it was delivered in the studio. I wish more parents would invest in their child’s dreams rather than pick their career like their name. If music wouldn't have worked...I still believe I could've been a professional bowler.

Never say never…

Something’s going on here. I felt the same vibe when introduced to Lady Gaga, Madonna in the 80’s, Country Music’s Alabama when Lonnie Bell popped the 45 My Homes in Alabama on the KOYN radio turntable and vibrantly said, “I think we have our first country music Beatles.”

Scooter Braun and Usher may go down in the pages of written journeys as being responsible for discovering Bieber but ultimately thru social networking and You Tube the people made them their king first.

I’m not rushing out to buy Bieber Barbies, T-shirts and mp3’s from Itunes; I will though continue to invest in two thoughts, his first then mine: Never say never…and trust in the lips that bring to the surface a once hidden harmony. Do all you can to believe in the music given to your children everyday. Encourage them to give it to the world to sing.

I will always believe in you first…

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

I've got nothing...what do you have to say?

What can I say?

According to singer/songwriter John Mayer, “Say what we need to say.”

To say is no different than being a single page locked inside a book by its cover, the weight of so much judgment is why so many eyes read the backside but hardly if ever the dedication.

To say or not to say! This is where my memory banks become flooded with portraits of the father figure who’d interrupt a budding imagination with, “Stop being a know it all. What you have to say means nothing to those who have something to say.”

Maybe that’s why I got into radio; not to say but to play what other’s choose to sing; which is nothing more than saying what you want to say but I being a slave of too much to say fell tremendously short on supporting what invited mass appeal because too much time was spent creating things to say about album covers.

I’ll never forget the one day back in 98 or a little later because I want to protect the innocent…when the manager of the radio station had something to say, “Don’t ever say anything about the President unless you clear it with me first.”

Janet Jackson’s costume malfunction made it impossible for radio people to say things in real time; everything today is on a say delay. If shattered fines could reach as high as $250,000. This is radio! I haven’t made anything near that during my thirty two years of broadcast. I’m not saying anything!

This past weekend s Super Bowl advertiser wanted to say something about John 3:16 but were blocked out by the network. I can’t say anything! I can’t even invite you to read my book Conversation with the Devil because that’s looked upon as being plugola which is illegal. So I didn’t say anything!

So what can I say? What would you like to say? Face Book seemed like a pretty safe place until Dawnmarie Souza was fired for saying something honest. Turns out it was ok, something about freedom of speech so she won a lot of money.

Mark Twain wanted to say more than we were willing to read. Writing an autobiography was his greatest challenge because what he vowed to say was, “Wow! There’s some seriously out of control craziness going on in this country!” One hundred years after verbally delivering his nearly unheard vocal talents into a box that recorded voices with its pitch, volume and tone…the say say say from Mark Twain is rich with a writer’s written accent.

I must admit the father figure was correct in his way to say things; what I want to say means nothing to those who have something to say. It saddens me to see so many having nothing to say about these horrid gas prices and what it’s about to do to China’s America. Only to learn I’ve got nothing to say because we aren’t paying what the rest of the world has been forced to pay.

1. Asmara, Eritrea | $9.59

2. Oslo, Norway | $7.41

3. Copenhagen, Denmark | $6.89

4. Hong Kong | $6.87

5. Berlin, Germany, and Monaco, Monte Carlo | $6.82

6. London, U.K. | $6.60

7. Rome, Italy | $6.44

8. Paris, France | $6.04

9. Sao Paulo, Brazil | $5.69

10. Seoul, Korea | $5.55

11. Tokyo, Japan | $5.40

12. Singapore, Singapore | $4.81

13. Nairobi, Kenya | $4.31

14. Mumbai, India | $4.25

15. Santiago, Chile | $4.18

16. Johannesburg, South Africa | $4.05

17. Sydney, Australia | $3.84

18. Toronto, Canada | $3.81

19. Beijing, China | $3.71

20. Bangkok, Thailand | $3.64

21. Buenos Aires, Argentina | $3.58

22. Havana, Cuba | $3.64

23. Karachi, Pakistan | $3.02

24. New York, U.S. | $2.85

25. Moscow, Russia | $2.80

26. Mexico City, Mexico | $2.45

27. Lagos, Nigeria $1.62

28. Dubai City, United Arab Emirates $1.57

29. Cairo, Egypt | $1.17

30. Kuwait, City, Kuwait | 85 cents

31. Riyadh, Saudi Arabia | 45 cents

32. Tehran, Iran | 32 cents

33. Caracas, Venezuela | 6 cents

No matter where you travel forget how much it cost to get there; to say is a beautiful thing only if you locate someone willing to listen.

I will always believe in you first…

Dear God what am I feeling? The story of Zondra continues....two weeks after breast cancer surgery

To hear the interviews please visit

Wednesday February 9, 2011

A medically trained professional sternly told me on Christmas Eve 2010 that the body has a way of letting you know when it’s had enough and ultimately there’s nothing I can do to fight it because in the end it will always win. Staring into the doctors eyes I accepted his challenge by sending a valuable message to the body that’s carried my dreams for forty eight years, “You should’ve picked someone else to be your mind and soul because I’m not quitting.”

I continue to see that same vibration of embodiment in the spirit of Zondra two weeks after the world of medicine reached onto her path and took from her part of the luggage.

I’ve met the root of her endless attraction to developing a positive outlook; Zondra’s mother is like shaking hands with God. A gift of trust, faith, healing and leadership has placed her feet on the backstreets of this nation that only get talked about on late night newscasts and yet she hasn’t stopped touching those areas of silence that need love most.

Her outlook, vision and decision to remain attracted to the higher creations doesn’t go anywhere near anger, disgust or failure, “I was put here for a reason and I will do what I am told until I’m no longer needed and I am far from that.”

Zondra watches the two of us talk about spiritual leaders as if they’re our neighbor, Joel Olsteen being the one who shines brightest in her smile, “I heard you speak the other day at Zondra’s prayer meeting; I thought Joel was standing in the same room.”

“Oh yeah? You should see me at a wedding ceremony,” I laughed back…

Zondra opened the door for me to document the real face of breast cancer and through it someone higher has added a teacher to my family. I love listening to people talk. Inside these chapters, roads where dreams can be connected to drug abuse, gang violence, hatred and fear; Zondra and her family continue to symbolize what Buddhist Monk Thick Nhat Hahn teaches, “Love is why we were born…”

Two weeks since the surgery and tonight is the first time I felt something different…the microphone unknowingly turning off during a deep question might be a higher decision maker’s way of saying, “Not now…”

Zondra and I spoke softly about how she keeps from being bored and what its like to be trapped in a home while her imagination is placed in a world of escape in distant places only she can see. Tonight I felt a tear crack her voice; the laugh she’s known for faded as she explained the difficulties of having the energy to reach beyond expectation but the body refuses to abide by the rules of listening to what its been commanded to perform.

Her story about the first round of stitches coming out and how horribly bad it hurt gripped my heart; her nervous laugh no medicine for the fear I now felt. She got a picture of everything…there was silence…for her imagination train had pulled into a station of disbelief for the body that carried her for thirty one years no longer looked or felt the same.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Today's workplace needs to come with boxing rings and a mud pit...

There used to be a time when American businesses shaped the landscape with separate teams of visionaries, producers and salesmanship; getting the product to the client required a mandate to seal a deal with behind the scenes camaraderie that turned the average job atmosphere into a family of success.

Today local managers have been ordered to hire one person to carry the company mantra; you must see it, create it then believe in it...only to find the kickback fails to feed the pockets of the CVS pharmacist impatiently waiting to refill your prescriptions caused by stress, high blood pressure and chronic flu.

Making matters worse it’s become customary for companies to build up their staff with direct competition. It’s no longer Ford against Chevy, Taco Bell taking on McDonalds or Target masterminding a weekend sale to get past Kmart. The new America is Jimmy out performing Michael and what the heck is up with Cynthia? The accepted win win solution is to take your family of employees and turn them into five and six year old boys fighting over a baseball and bat. It’s no different than the rich standing on the houses in Charleston to watch the War Between the States unfold at Fort Sumter.

Employees are competing for the same resources; money available is limited…within seconds the pie is cut into chunks of sixty, twenty, ten, five and a bunch of ones.

Are the current times no different than the days of valiant Greek Olympians where survival of the fittest buys you nothing more than time? Dr. Gary Ranker describes this method of leadership friendly fire believing it puts American businesses in serious danger of creating consequences that eliminate opportunity.

Going to work with your direct competition is no different sleeping with your enemy.

Dr. Ranker lays it on the line when describing what coworkers should do, “Identify what competitive issues will destroy your company. Give attention to the most difficult damaging problems.”

Clarity is word that no longer exists in the world of business. How can a department head be clear with the issues at hand when he or she are given hundreds of reasons why yesterday’s plan isn’t worth the weight of the tree selected to become toilet paper?

According to Dr. Ranker, “There’s nothing wrong with demanding a clear picture.”

The one thing standing in the way is the assumed producers who’ve been driven to believe there are no rules in the game of winning. Clear means what? A winning solution is to motivate each other. But be careful instantly you’ll be introduced to the differences of sympathy and empathy while being accused of being what I was recently called, “You’re too much of a free spirit. People need boxes.”

Teach yourself to locate an objective view of the competition your business has forced your life to become part of. Allow your day to become more productive by generating new opportunities. My weakness is hearing someone say, “There’s nothing to do.” Company minutes and money are wasted daily by in house competitors that seek nothing more than someone telling them what to do.


If it’s new fad to pit employees against each other why can’t the office feature the one thing that made Riverside Jr. High the greatest place on earth; give me a boxing ring to even out the indifferences.

Arthur Miller pinpointed the perfect scared straight book when he forked out the thoughts that became The Death of the Salesman. Sadly that book doesn’t register any fear today because in every business near death experiences happen every thirty seconds because working as a team means nothing on the forefront of hourly survival.

What are you doing to change the workday landscape? How you are treated today allows your children to become numb when they enter the business world in the years ahead; basically meaning it’s not going to get better until you prioritize competitive issues at work.

I’ll always believe in you first…

Monday, February 7, 2011

Christina Aguilera is a national hero...

Openly I admit the most difficult task presented would to sing our National Anthem in public without staring at the printed poetry on a karaoke screen. I have never delivered a lecture at Appalachian University, school of broadcasting, DARE Graduation, industrial motivation lecture or wedding ceremony without having the map near my peripheral vision.

I don’t do a radio show without having larger than life call letters of the station taped to the control board. Embarrassingly I’ll tell a visitor in the studio, “The larger and darker the letters are the easier it is for me to sell the emotion.” Truthfully I fear the fear, right in the middle of a brilliant connection between a busy listener feverishly fighting to get home and a story about Steve Perry the last thing you need me to do is say, “Here’s Oh Sherrie on Country 910 KOYN.” (The station I worked for in 1979)

Two reactions instantly consumed my IKEA Swedish Meatball eating Super Bowl moment when Christina Aguilera stepped off the stage; she’s just as human as 99.8% of the beer guzzling, jersey wearing, team supporting people watching and more importantly she didn’t stop. Billions of viewers and she displayed what Corporate America hasn’t been able to do for the past three years…she ran into a little bit of trouble and kept going whereas big business has fired everybody but themselves.

The problem with this country isn’t the people but rather leaders that search hourly for reasons to halt progress. Christina was completely focused on there being an end result and delivered it without having to seek out a trillion dollar loan from Britney Spears or Cher.

Aguilera displayed real leadership. She didn’t quit!

A recent news report recently exposed a hard to digest set of numbers that unveiled over 50% of this countries unemployed women over the age of fifty remain jobless. The new sixty may look like the new thirty but Corporate America is still treating one of the hardest working generations in American history as being retirement home ready.

Women and men aren’t trained to stop in this country just decision makers.

I’m completely comfortable when admitting that Christina’s Super Bowl appearance played a major role in the rebirth of this nation. Sadly it’s become the butt of every television and radio show which does nothing but suck the common person in like a stale TMZ rerun that you can’t find the energy to tune out of.

I don’t care how bad your day is, how evil the moment has made you feel, how eerie it seems to constantly drop the ball; the biggest and best decision you can ever make is to keep moving forward. The group Journey says it best, “Don’t stop believing.” Did they say take a break half way through or figure out a way to dive out of work for the day?

Don’t stop believing means don’t stop…

I will always believe in your first…

Friday, February 4, 2011

Commercials Rock! Especially during the Super Bowl...

Upfront and to the point; knowing it might seriously damage my induction into the Man Card Hall of Fame, its time to admit I don’t do sports. No team jerseys, no water bottles, tailgate parties, face paint on game day or desire to have a picture taken with a team mascot.

My day would be a wad of waste if ordered to sit in front of the flat screen to watch a pitch, kick, putt, swing or goal. Growing up in a family where bowling was something you did with a ball and ten pins, our northern religion finds no reason to host the Holy Ghosts of sports Earl Anthony and Dick Webber on ESPN PBA Bowling Classics.

I love commercials!

I spend nine innings of a Charlotte Knights game studying every billboard plastered to the homerun wall. If there’s a free program handed out at the gate, I never read the stories, my nose is plastered in the print ads.

Super Bowl commercials are my favorite because it’s the “only” time company owners and business managers realize the importance of being remembered then stealing thirty seconds from your day trying to sell something that’s usually found cheaper on Craig’s List,, Ebay and Wal-Mart.

Commercials that showcase web and street addresses and phone numbers are a total waste. Advertisers end up creating what legendary radio production guru Dick Orkin calls invisible highway billboards that are never remembered. How many signs did you pass today that you imagination immediately tuned out because there was too much to digest?

Ignite my need to want your product. When I’m ready to buy God gave us Google.

Behind the scenes creating a commercial is a much bigger sport than four quarters of leather ball chasing. It requires a vigorous team of seasoned athletes that require quality leadership, incredible insider on the street coaching, motivation from all players not just the stars, preparedness of a quick twist of words that could create a winning hook followed by a vibrant delivery of a plan that sees more downs than gains before reaching the presence of an end zone.

This might be the reason why more students from schools of broadcasting are thumbing up their nose on doing physical on-air shifts and patiently waiting in line to be given a chance to play in the free spirit of a genuine production room.

Super Bowl Sunday is my Oscar Awards! It’s the single most important day of the year when writers, producers, voice over talent, actors and advertisers are given clearance to share a landscape of oh my God while stepping away from blah blah blah.

They dare themselves to be different in an advertising world where play books are something you find in video game box.

I don’t care how many touchdowns the Packers get over the Steelers or how many tackles are required to stop a monstrous machine from crossing a giant white line of hope and prosperity—the only thing people will be talking about Monday will be the commercials.

That’s my sport! And I’m sticking to it!

Good luck fellow radio and television writers and producers! This is your day to finally prove how great advertising is and will forever be without a tiny voice softly speaking in the background, “It’s not what the client wants...” You are right they want success!

I will not say, “May the force be with you because I already know it is with you and besides there’s too many redundant messages in commercials already.”

See dealer for details!

Thursday, February 3, 2011

I enjoy a good argument but only if it gets both of us to a different place...

Books of motivation may feature different covers but there’s always a common line of connection that redelivers a life changing message.

Every once in awhile, an author gets a little gutsy; former Philadelphia 76er’s owner Pat Croce doesn’t believe in teamwork, “It creates too much room for a member to be lazy.”

Artist Way author Julia Cameron believes teachers with red pens are to blame for the low levels of confidence students have.

And now the mastermind behind Tribes; We Need You to Lead Us Seth Godin writes, “Fear of failure is actually overrated as an excuse.”

During the early chapters Carly Simon was horribly afraid of performing on stage. I cannot use a public restroom; BBS (Bashful Bladder Syndrome) affects millions of people daily creating a fear of failure which has put me in situations where dinner includes an incredibly fast drive home. Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Bob Thornton, Ronald Regan, Mohammad Ali and Aretha Franklyn fear flying. Not being able to attend an event creates a fear of failure.

Godin explains, “People aren’t afraid of failure. It’s blame. We choose not to be remarkable because we’re worried about criticism.”

The radio junky in me laughs; where would my career be without program directors constantly hitting me with wants, needs, dislikes and ego crashes? I became a better black belt in Tae Kwon Do not because of a fear of failure but to physically do everything within my power to keep from being criticized. Today I face the worst fear; a fear of not being able to live up to the guy I was at 25.

How do you get around these faceless beasts?

In 2002 under the leadership of Ivan Levison, Taco Bell commanded a positive change when they toiled with the ancient phrase Think out of the Box and hit the airwaves with Think out of the Bun. Nike’s Just Do It is still a monster motivational tool. I find pleasure in watching people move; sitting at the mall slowly eating a chocolate ice cream cone teaches me a lot about what measures people put themselves through to get what they want. Bet they’d never sink that much energy into furthering their career or bettering the air surrounding their working conditions.

Godin is convinced that we are hesitant to create innovative movies, launch new human resource initiatives and design a menu forcing customers to take notice. He calls it a waste of money.

One of my favorite pastimes with Master Todd Harris was his ability to convince a martial arts class to invest in books of motivation then spend a Monday night discussing it; figuring out ways to firmly place the message onto our separate paths of leadership. His avenue of education added a curve to the straight highways we’ve sacrificed everything to drive. Nobody likes change because I believe companies no longer teach leaders. It’s the, “Here you go handle it philosophy.”

I frequent Panera Bread to study small business America. While the steamy hot cup of coffee begins its journey to cool, my ears are fixed on the multitude of conversations blessed with employers looking for a willing and able body to help them achieve what little they’ve forecasted. There are florists and photographers using the art of salesmanship to open the imagination of a potential client, realtors that still believe this nations dreams is to own a home and students that haven’t figured out how dangerously close we are to another collapse.

Seth Godin continues, “Fear of criticism is a powerful deterrent because the criticism doesn’t actually have to occur for the fear to set in.”

Julia Cameron teaches, “Display your art so you can learn to ignore criticism.”

Openly I admit I get in more trouble for trying to be different than I do if I had just bowed my head and played with the rest of the kids. Apologizing to my mind body and spirit I look at stress as being nothing more than the man behind the curtain. I’m not a quitter but at forty eight I’ve given permission to this drive to accept that I will not gain the level of success I wanted at twenty five but there’ll come a time when everything I’ve been taught will be seen in another travelers eyes.

Godin wants you to answer these questions:

If you get criticized will you suffer any measurable impact?

How can I create something critics will criticize?

I’ll always believe in you first…

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Ink stains that changed the world...

Calvin Coolidge once said, "Nothing in the world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful individuals with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius if almost proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent."
I love this stuff. Not because it’s digestible or it has the capability to thump common sense into our process of success but Coolidge was brave enough to let go of his art.

There’s something to be said about every writer be it published, hidden away in closets or an every so often dabbler of beginning middle and end; the nearly cold tip of a writing instrument meeting the flat smooth surface of a sheet of paper has the ability to recharge the strongest Eveready Battery.
A pen speaks what others are thinking…

It’s no different than comedians like Chelsea Handler, Don Rickles, Pam Stone, Chris Rock, Kathy Griffin and Joan Rivers standing before the masses under the sweltering heat produced by stage lights designed to make common everyday travelers into part time psychologists whose medicine is laughter.

No CVS or Rite Aid, no Doc in Box or chiropractor to pop your body’s knuckle system, each well rehearsed life experience is so relatable your diaphragm belches what so many during these difficult times in the 21st Century can’t do…laugh.

Hollywood says Jennifer Lopez is upset that Steven Tyler is getting more face time on American Idol. Charlie Sheen doesn’t find anything wrong with putting in a hard days work then tossing down a serious amount of fun in the privacy of life. Is Justin Bieber dating Selena Gomez? How can the Stock Market experience the biggest and best day it’s had since 2008 and 9.8% of our state is still unemployed?

Born in 1872 Calvin Coolidge was a practicing lawyer before becoming deeply involved in politics. He was the Mayor of Northampton then a Senator, Governor of Massachusetts then Warren Harding’s Vice President. By the rules that make this nation beyond great Mr. Coolidge was one of few who became President not by the people’s right to vote but through default; Harding suffered a heart attack landing the former lawyer in a pair of beat up old shoes stepping in the middle of two World Wars.

It was Calvin Coolidge that introduced a common mans opinion to the rest of the world; in 1928 a pact was made between fifteen countries who agreed that war was not a viable method of settling international disputes. Secretary of State Frank Kellogg and French Foreign Minister Aristide Briand were the men that placed the tip of their writing instrument on the flat smooth surface of a sheet of paper releasing their art in the way of changing the world.

What message are you leaving behind?

I’m handwriting a letter of appoligy to my step-daughter Jenny’s children who’ll be too busy to visit when the final page of the book life wrote for me is touched. They’ll be working six part time jobs trying to make ends meet. Absolutely they’ll have college degrees! Jenny wouldn’t have it any other way. The only thing she can’t change is how Corporate America ignores persistence and determination, talent and genius and more importantly education and replacing it with ___________________ (you fill in the blank)

What if you jotted down an idea and like Mr. Kellogg and Briand it changed the way the wind blows? What if our nation featured business leaders that take a common idea and help give it air to breathe? What would you write?

I’ll always believe in you first…

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

I heart you...

February is American Heart Month… The American Heart Association wants to hook you up to the real facts about ticker disease and the signs of a beating moment gone fa-dunky donk.

Sadly I’ve already lost your attention.

Come on! Where’s the fun in digging up dirt on the thumper? Nobody wants to be attached to pills for high blood pressure; forced to eliminate hearty steak burgers and steamy hot French fries, Chinese food and fresh from the sea shrimp only to hear a tiny voice on the other end of the phone busting your tail for not getting a cholesterol check up.

We’re convinced that heart disease is connected to old people. Really? My very good friend Mark passed at 43, Bryan wasn’t even 50 and I was only 47 with a mind still stuck in 1978. Heart attacks have almost become a rite of passage; they’re accepted when in fact we could’ve easily prevented the majority of them from unfolding your life and tossing everything out onto the lawn.

It’s amazing how many millions of dollars are spent on over the counter creams that wipe a cool set of crow’s feet from the corner of your eyes but it’s not going to save your life. Being aware of your family history will; studying the back of a soup can will keep your back off that cold ambulance mat, having yearly physicals and open conversations with family doctors generates history that can be studied.

It’s not fun being part of the crowd that’s been bumped to the B list because fate put something on your plate? Neighbors, friends and other bodies have taken on a new shape believing my life change has ripped the wind from their parachute of weekend entertainment.

A co-worker said to me, “I knew you were part of the brotherhood; I could see it in your eyes.”

Wow! Maybe that’s why I penned out the lyrics to this song:

There you are, standing in the mirror, still got those fun kid eyes.
Here we go, dressed up in adult clothes, still joking around about being along for the ride.
You and me don’t agree, just showed up one day pretending—to be me…and I don’t know what you mean.
There you are standing ever so tall, your eyes they look away.
You and I need to find, a reason to believe in each others dreams.

Heart attacks aren’t about clutching your chest and losing your breath. I walked into a doc in the box with a sore throat and came out with heart surgery. I totally didn’t listen to the radio commercials or stopped to watch those irritating pictures between my favorite television programs and ended up getting hit between the valves. The warning signs were there but an uneducated guess kept me looking a different direction.

There is nothing I can write or create that’ll expose how important this month really is. I’m nothing more than a husband that’s fallen short on coming up with the right words to share that convinces his wife to do what I’ve been preaching since the very second the man in the white suit in the very big building calmly said, “Mr. Collins you’re currently having a heart attack. Do you understand what I’m saying?”