Put a pen in my hand and instantly the dam breaks.
I laugh at life because it reminds me so much of a kid’s first few visits to the dentist; before anyone sets sail on an open journey the imagination is tested then allowed to sift through the gold plated basket on Heavens table for tiny objects that lead to inspiration.
Such practices have helped me turn tree bark into battleships then speedboats, movie cameras and live microphones on the world’s largest rock concert stages.
Writing daily is a backyard stream whose origin is an underground spring. The goal is to never question the presence of thought but chase it like you did when first love seeped into your young arms landing with a major splash in a heart that’s controlled everything you’ve always done.
Then it goes away…
In Justin Timberlake’s new film Friend’s with Benefits his unwritten chapters are challenged when his father’s Alzheimer’s reaches outside the family circle of secrets. I didn’t know of my Grandmother’s illness until it was too late. In this film, the gold plated basket places a lesson in your open palm that goes beyond a love story with Mila Kunis.
Embarrassingly I admit that my decision to run from my Grandmother was wrong. At seventeen I didn’t understand the disease, nor could I figure out why she held so much anger. I assumed it was me because I reminded her of my birth father who had hurt her so deeply.
To watch Justin embrace his father’s changes puts value in the reasons why we should continue to learn more about Alzheimer’s; borrowing from the elders that have lead multiple generations of Native American’s…I ask that you invite your loved ones to write. From birth to the final horizon experience is the perfectly in tune song life sings.
It’s what Nicholas Sparks painted into place in The Note Book.
Writing isn’t easy because we’re trained in our budding years to create stories, build a beginning middle and end or generate the energy to expose a hidden self because diaries were brought into this world to serve as a safe zone.
Harry Potter wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been for JK Rowling’s final breath of survival. She was homeless but not without thought. Mark Twain stayed true to his southern accent turning every page into a blistering hot summer day. Studying his behavior as a writer allows me to rest my hands in the sweat his wrists once made on the pages of a living tree.
Blogging, Texting and Twittering is a great start but compared to what you’ll share with the world after you’re gone…it’s the unexpected vomit the stomach shoots up your throat forcing you to make a decision…spit or swallow.
Find a pen and give it a name. Mine has been dubbed Soul Survivor. The worst of moods or the greatest highs are fun to write about but hardly if ever make it to the morning pages because once Soul Survivor connects with my imagination…I reach father than life allows only to learn all things created should be shared.
Legendary artist Peter Max yelled those words at me during a show.
I will always believe in you first.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Pre-programmed robots...
Master Harris is relentless in his way of training a growing martial arts mind, “If a goal is to be met one must learn to master one thing.”
Set free like wild monkeys on this modern path of multi-task or be fired, it’s extremely difficult for the current state of the human mind to think of itself as a single source of energy. As you’ll see in the soon to be released Tom Hanks/Julia Roberts film Larry Crowne; to be a master of one ability fuels a corporation’s lack of truly viewing the talent only to recognize their commodity as being an object no longer worth investing in.
Albert Einstein wrote, “Only one who devotes himself to a cause with his whole strength and soul can be a true master. For this reason mastery demands all of a person.”
And today Albert would be standing in the unemployment line.
Gandhi said, “All of your scholarships, all your study of Shakespeare and Wordsworth would be vain if at the same time you did not build your character and attain mastery over your thoughts and your actions.”
This isn’t bragging nor are we having a teenage who can pee the farthest contest but I’m physically amazed at the enormous amount of time and money Clear Channel Media spends on educating their massive amounts of employees. Like Gandhi explains, in the moments that follow the information being shared it’s ultimately up to the student to master the art of participation.
When you eliminate ego…who today is a master at their craft?
In martial arts we’re trained to strike, block, kick and move in ways that theory says will dominate the aggressor but if a battle rolls to the ground inside the depths of twenty seconds which part of the Master Quest did you fail to study? We are the generation trained to quit. We’ve allowed everyone to have second and third choices. Stand in line at Wendy’s, McDonald’s, Wal-Mart, Home Depot and Kohl’s; you’ll fall witness to amazing amounts of careless decisions with the attitude of; if I don’t like it…they’ll take it back. You don’t need a receipt!
In Richard Andrew King’s writings The Black Belt Book: The Secrets of a Martial Arts Master, he exposes two sides of mastery: External involves skill while internal gives you permission to slay the beast and or fear of their being. Unless both sides are recognized for each of their separate energies everything you are…is nothing more than a secret to the self you’ll become tomorrow followed by the next day and so on.
No day passes that each of us don’t face challenges; image, courage, discipline, persistence, unworthiness, weakness, self confidence and procrastination… What’s your weapon of choice? How will you slay the beast?
Richard claims you should challenge them head on; in doing so you develop a great sense of accomplishment and centeredness.
External mastery is the act that occurs when it involves other people and situations. How do you handle yourself under tremendous amounts of pressure caused by holiday workweeks when everyone not even the boss wants to participate but inside you know there’ll be failure if someone doesn’t put focus into play?
I’ve lectured to hundreds of future Broadcasters and calmly pointed out that it wasn’t their decision to participate with human thoughts projecting from car or computer speakers. Like Eric Clapton and Eddie Van Halen something in the universe shouted so loud that one morning they woke up and began to listen. Then I pop reality out of its box, “What if you’re the person on the air during a massive earthquake or more planes leap toward American buildings? What if a tiny nation designs a weapon of mass destruction and it requires 45 minutes to reach our shoreline? Are you the Broadcaster that remains to help educate a listener’s next decision or do you fold? If you feel as if you can’t handle the pressure of accepting what a real Broadcaster might be asked to do…Taco Bell is looking for a window order taker…and it comes with a really cool microphone.”
Let’s return to Mr. Einstein’s quote: Only one who devotes himself to a cause with his whole strength and soul can be a true master. For this reason mastery demands all of a person.
Multi-tasking is what human’s do not owls, dogs, fish in a backyard pond or your neighbor Mike who’s ability to grow perfect tomatoes has turned into a jealous machine of envy. Through multi-tasking identify your skill then master it. I love being on the air sharing stories about your favorite musicians and crafting unique ways to say it’s going to rain. But I’m not a master at it. I’ve mastered the art of listening to radio commercials that don’t work then feel tremendous guilt knowing the company wasted their money on something people instantly tune out.
Commercials connect lives…I’ve yet to meet the human that doesn’t want to better their current situation. The right commercial turns fantasy into reality. Why do commercials force you to look a different direction? If you can’t relate there’s no reason to stay. I don’t believe in comedy. It doesn’t exist unless the person sharing the story has developed a relationship with the listener by way of relating. The best salespeople on earth are comedians; it cost 30 bucks to catch them live, you gotta buy drinks and finger food then you sit and listen to them share their stories. Time is money and you stayed to watch the entire performance. Laughter can only happen if you relate. If I’m talking miles above your head…now you know why I’m not a full time jock. I’ll never change.
Master one thing while participating with multi-tasking. Be you by putting yourself in the master’s shoes. You are not employed by XYZ. You are self employed and your current position at that place you zip off to everyday is your best client. Be a great salesperson and make that relationship strong and more importantly worth investing in.
Master Harris is brilliant at teaching future martial artists but I’d never ask him to bag my groceries. Not because he can’t…such positions should be performed by those who’ve mastered it.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Set free like wild monkeys on this modern path of multi-task or be fired, it’s extremely difficult for the current state of the human mind to think of itself as a single source of energy. As you’ll see in the soon to be released Tom Hanks/Julia Roberts film Larry Crowne; to be a master of one ability fuels a corporation’s lack of truly viewing the talent only to recognize their commodity as being an object no longer worth investing in.
Albert Einstein wrote, “Only one who devotes himself to a cause with his whole strength and soul can be a true master. For this reason mastery demands all of a person.”
And today Albert would be standing in the unemployment line.
Gandhi said, “All of your scholarships, all your study of Shakespeare and Wordsworth would be vain if at the same time you did not build your character and attain mastery over your thoughts and your actions.”
This isn’t bragging nor are we having a teenage who can pee the farthest contest but I’m physically amazed at the enormous amount of time and money Clear Channel Media spends on educating their massive amounts of employees. Like Gandhi explains, in the moments that follow the information being shared it’s ultimately up to the student to master the art of participation.
When you eliminate ego…who today is a master at their craft?
In martial arts we’re trained to strike, block, kick and move in ways that theory says will dominate the aggressor but if a battle rolls to the ground inside the depths of twenty seconds which part of the Master Quest did you fail to study? We are the generation trained to quit. We’ve allowed everyone to have second and third choices. Stand in line at Wendy’s, McDonald’s, Wal-Mart, Home Depot and Kohl’s; you’ll fall witness to amazing amounts of careless decisions with the attitude of; if I don’t like it…they’ll take it back. You don’t need a receipt!
In Richard Andrew King’s writings The Black Belt Book: The Secrets of a Martial Arts Master, he exposes two sides of mastery: External involves skill while internal gives you permission to slay the beast and or fear of their being. Unless both sides are recognized for each of their separate energies everything you are…is nothing more than a secret to the self you’ll become tomorrow followed by the next day and so on.
No day passes that each of us don’t face challenges; image, courage, discipline, persistence, unworthiness, weakness, self confidence and procrastination… What’s your weapon of choice? How will you slay the beast?
Richard claims you should challenge them head on; in doing so you develop a great sense of accomplishment and centeredness.
External mastery is the act that occurs when it involves other people and situations. How do you handle yourself under tremendous amounts of pressure caused by holiday workweeks when everyone not even the boss wants to participate but inside you know there’ll be failure if someone doesn’t put focus into play?
I’ve lectured to hundreds of future Broadcasters and calmly pointed out that it wasn’t their decision to participate with human thoughts projecting from car or computer speakers. Like Eric Clapton and Eddie Van Halen something in the universe shouted so loud that one morning they woke up and began to listen. Then I pop reality out of its box, “What if you’re the person on the air during a massive earthquake or more planes leap toward American buildings? What if a tiny nation designs a weapon of mass destruction and it requires 45 minutes to reach our shoreline? Are you the Broadcaster that remains to help educate a listener’s next decision or do you fold? If you feel as if you can’t handle the pressure of accepting what a real Broadcaster might be asked to do…Taco Bell is looking for a window order taker…and it comes with a really cool microphone.”
Let’s return to Mr. Einstein’s quote: Only one who devotes himself to a cause with his whole strength and soul can be a true master. For this reason mastery demands all of a person.
Multi-tasking is what human’s do not owls, dogs, fish in a backyard pond or your neighbor Mike who’s ability to grow perfect tomatoes has turned into a jealous machine of envy. Through multi-tasking identify your skill then master it. I love being on the air sharing stories about your favorite musicians and crafting unique ways to say it’s going to rain. But I’m not a master at it. I’ve mastered the art of listening to radio commercials that don’t work then feel tremendous guilt knowing the company wasted their money on something people instantly tune out.
Commercials connect lives…I’ve yet to meet the human that doesn’t want to better their current situation. The right commercial turns fantasy into reality. Why do commercials force you to look a different direction? If you can’t relate there’s no reason to stay. I don’t believe in comedy. It doesn’t exist unless the person sharing the story has developed a relationship with the listener by way of relating. The best salespeople on earth are comedians; it cost 30 bucks to catch them live, you gotta buy drinks and finger food then you sit and listen to them share their stories. Time is money and you stayed to watch the entire performance. Laughter can only happen if you relate. If I’m talking miles above your head…now you know why I’m not a full time jock. I’ll never change.
Master one thing while participating with multi-tasking. Be you by putting yourself in the master’s shoes. You are not employed by XYZ. You are self employed and your current position at that place you zip off to everyday is your best client. Be a great salesperson and make that relationship strong and more importantly worth investing in.
Master Harris is brilliant at teaching future martial artists but I’d never ask him to bag my groceries. Not because he can’t…such positions should be performed by those who’ve mastered it.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Lost and forgotten...
His name was Ohiyesa; a Santee Sioux born in 1858. Through his chosen words those who walked with him knew of his visions and reasons for them, “As a child I understood how to give; I have forgotten this grace since I’ve become civilized.”
On March 12, 1880 Judge Elmer Dundy resolved that Native American’s are people within the meaning of the law and have the same rights as any other person.
Society says it’s ok if you didn’t know this. This sort of history doesn’t inspire travelers to hoist up their anchors and putt across the open plains of a nation so great in search of footprints left in riverbanks and on lakesides.
Because history has become big money in cities like Charleston, St Louis, Cody and Jackson Hole, Wyoming, Dodge City, Montana, Pikes Peak in Colorado and even the grandest of a all canyons…the seeds used to sew a foundation of thirteen original stripes with fifty bright and beautiful stars into a world power has somehow fallen into a shade of dull only to be misplaced on the closet floor of a people in search of, “Oh my God! How did they blast four faces into that mountain? Look at that Space Needle! How long did it take the build the Golden Gate?”
Ohiyesa said, “As a child I understood how to give.”
To give is not to take nor is purchasing to lay claim on ownership a rich mans way of giving back to history. Ohiyesa didn’t fight a system of services created to civilize all connected to a single line of survival. He believed that through change American’s allowed them selves to take more and give less.
Spin back the pages of history a little further: let’s expose a truth no middle or high school classroom chooses to give.
Until 1880 a heated debate tore up the reasons why travelers from afar sailed across an open sea toward a land of peace, freedom of religion and less taxes. The arrival of the settlers wasn’t meant to cast shadows across the soils loved by the several bands of the Native American life and style but as the boundaries expanded so did the argument; were Native American’s real people or an animal?
So often bastardized by disappointed receivers the true term Indian Giver isn’t what it’s been allowed to become. The most giving man inside a circle of Native American’s was usually the chief. Indian Giver’s once meant exactly that…one who gives to better insure the safe keeping of those who’re family, friends or newly introduced neighbors.
As a child Ohiyesa was taught by elders that giving was the tree root to their continuation. After 1880, civilization began to generate a newer way of reaching levels of recognition. Native American’s didn’t create scalping, the civilization of fur traders and trail creators taught them to take. Alcohol came from civilization and through long drawn out walks late into the night Native American’s being chased into Mexico were introduced to a different type of civilization that led to peyote and other hallucination medications that helped free them from the pain civilization had brought to them.
History is meant to be studied not to raise funds for deep pockets but to help protect the mind, body and soul of mankind. While New York State becomes the latest to push open the door toward same sex marriages; Michelle Bachmann follows in the footsteps of Hilary Clinton and Sarah Palin in a bid for a Whitehouse that President Obama proved was for every person that which loves this nation so much they’re willing to sacrifice four or more years of their lives leading rather than just sitting on the sidelines.
“As a child I understood how to give.”
Where along the lines of everyday life did you stop giving?
The original keepers of this place called North America once stood proud in being called Indian Givers because it meant you had the willpower to share in ways that bettered the lives of the entire circle rather than a selfish nest. Settlers flipped that term around calling people who took things away Indian Givers…creating bouts of sadness, depression and any other mindset that didn’t represent kindness and or gratitude.
Judge Elmer Dundy’s image isn’t taped to a statue nor do his clothes, writing instruments and books of study sit in a museum open everyday except holidays. His decision in 1880 doesn’t seem important enough to give to a budding mind and spirit therefore how people were once treated could one day be the way they are treated again on a different page in history.
Civil Rights for everyone were the original ingredients used to create the brick placed on the first step leading us into brand new beginning.
It’s fun to chase the coattails of the generations before us but it’s more enlightening to take off the rose colored glasses and fall witness to a truth now hidden.
Let’s build a stronger future by investing in the chapters that have kept us moving forward. Borrowing from Native American circles its time elders hold the hands of the growing imagination and give their hearts a reason to believe in the rich history of why we are who we are so that 100 years from today we can say welcome to all nations and their leaders.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
On March 12, 1880 Judge Elmer Dundy resolved that Native American’s are people within the meaning of the law and have the same rights as any other person.
Society says it’s ok if you didn’t know this. This sort of history doesn’t inspire travelers to hoist up their anchors and putt across the open plains of a nation so great in search of footprints left in riverbanks and on lakesides.
Because history has become big money in cities like Charleston, St Louis, Cody and Jackson Hole, Wyoming, Dodge City, Montana, Pikes Peak in Colorado and even the grandest of a all canyons…the seeds used to sew a foundation of thirteen original stripes with fifty bright and beautiful stars into a world power has somehow fallen into a shade of dull only to be misplaced on the closet floor of a people in search of, “Oh my God! How did they blast four faces into that mountain? Look at that Space Needle! How long did it take the build the Golden Gate?”
Ohiyesa said, “As a child I understood how to give.”
To give is not to take nor is purchasing to lay claim on ownership a rich mans way of giving back to history. Ohiyesa didn’t fight a system of services created to civilize all connected to a single line of survival. He believed that through change American’s allowed them selves to take more and give less.
Spin back the pages of history a little further: let’s expose a truth no middle or high school classroom chooses to give.
Until 1880 a heated debate tore up the reasons why travelers from afar sailed across an open sea toward a land of peace, freedom of religion and less taxes. The arrival of the settlers wasn’t meant to cast shadows across the soils loved by the several bands of the Native American life and style but as the boundaries expanded so did the argument; were Native American’s real people or an animal?
So often bastardized by disappointed receivers the true term Indian Giver isn’t what it’s been allowed to become. The most giving man inside a circle of Native American’s was usually the chief. Indian Giver’s once meant exactly that…one who gives to better insure the safe keeping of those who’re family, friends or newly introduced neighbors.
As a child Ohiyesa was taught by elders that giving was the tree root to their continuation. After 1880, civilization began to generate a newer way of reaching levels of recognition. Native American’s didn’t create scalping, the civilization of fur traders and trail creators taught them to take. Alcohol came from civilization and through long drawn out walks late into the night Native American’s being chased into Mexico were introduced to a different type of civilization that led to peyote and other hallucination medications that helped free them from the pain civilization had brought to them.
History is meant to be studied not to raise funds for deep pockets but to help protect the mind, body and soul of mankind. While New York State becomes the latest to push open the door toward same sex marriages; Michelle Bachmann follows in the footsteps of Hilary Clinton and Sarah Palin in a bid for a Whitehouse that President Obama proved was for every person that which loves this nation so much they’re willing to sacrifice four or more years of their lives leading rather than just sitting on the sidelines.
“As a child I understood how to give.”
Where along the lines of everyday life did you stop giving?
The original keepers of this place called North America once stood proud in being called Indian Givers because it meant you had the willpower to share in ways that bettered the lives of the entire circle rather than a selfish nest. Settlers flipped that term around calling people who took things away Indian Givers…creating bouts of sadness, depression and any other mindset that didn’t represent kindness and or gratitude.
Judge Elmer Dundy’s image isn’t taped to a statue nor do his clothes, writing instruments and books of study sit in a museum open everyday except holidays. His decision in 1880 doesn’t seem important enough to give to a budding mind and spirit therefore how people were once treated could one day be the way they are treated again on a different page in history.
Civil Rights for everyone were the original ingredients used to create the brick placed on the first step leading us into brand new beginning.
It’s fun to chase the coattails of the generations before us but it’s more enlightening to take off the rose colored glasses and fall witness to a truth now hidden.
Let’s build a stronger future by investing in the chapters that have kept us moving forward. Borrowing from Native American circles its time elders hold the hands of the growing imagination and give their hearts a reason to believe in the rich history of why we are who we are so that 100 years from today we can say welcome to all nations and their leaders.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Monday, June 27, 2011
Stop wasting time being late all the time!
Time isn’t and never will be my friend, family or foe. Arriving three hours early is four hours too late!
The white goofy rabbit rushing through Alice in Wonderland will never live up to the tremendous amount of energy I send through each twenty four hour period. No tick on the wavering clock tocks without me walking toward the unknown purpose; I demand a solid guarantee to be who it is I’ll become hours before the expected so I can physically prepare for the unexpected.
How sick is this? Legendary rocker Grace Slick from Jefferson Starship painted a canvas for me featuring my bunny competition peacefully sitting on Alice’s lap.
I find no reason to hide this weakness; which could explain my lack of having a West coast lifestyle and radio show even in the smallest of cities that make up California. Those there are constantly fifteen minutes to an hour late which is a perfectly ripe orange, peach, strawberry and if physically possible a giant head of green lettuce.
During the 90’s Dr David the head doctor took his bright yellow number two pencil and scratched into the square living tree called paper, “This patient suffers from an addiction to excitement. If he isn’t racing toward deadlines he’ll create finish lines causing him to go until he can’t.”
The cure for such a wickedly out of control mess of a mind isn’t to locate more work…doing so has made the path of choice a tremendous failure. The doctor claims the best un-drug to shove into the system is to find a place to do nothing more than write. Which I believe might be the message Grace Slick was sending me in the painting.
No bike riding! No bowling tournaments or edge of your seat full contact hitting and kicking Tae Kwon Do. Not even a run for the boarder to toss down a ten pack of tacos smothered in super hot sauce to kill the non-beef flavor.
Waddling from side to side down the heavily crowded blvd’s that make up Santa Barbara, California a lone one owner book store in 1994 guided my blank, blank, blank and crammed the edges of a Montana made nose into a pool of honest approaches called The Artist Way from Julia Cameron. That book made time controllable.
Interestingly enough…there are opposites to this sort of addiction; brothers, sisters, coworkers, best friends and martial partners that couldn’t find the hands of a clock if it was attached to their contact lenses.
Getting a grip on the importance of time doesn’t find importance on a growing number of all people not just Californian’s. I always believed Ted Turner’s TBS started their shows five minutes late to better serve those addicted to not being ahead of schedule. His networks decision to stay late made everyone comfortable with being late. Today, having a DVR linked to your flat screen not only exceeds the limits of accepting laziness but it’s taken over our total focus. Because we’ve been trained to hit instant rewind…it’s changed our listening habits. It’s become accepted behavior to calmly say, “What?”
The stepfather Joe found reason to bash us when we’d “what” him, “I’ll show you what!”
Being on time or a little ahead is the goal. To achieve it without feeling like a time whore begins with leaving for work or a July 4th celebration ten minutes early.
Stress makes you less productive. It’s more difficult to concentrate while under pressure. Mood swings are of many when time is set aside and not taken seriously. According to the Daily Challenge leaving ten minutes earlier creates a cushion for you to fall back on.
The best example of bad timing habits is the beltway. After nearly thirty years of open debate, tax concern conversations and physical construction I-485 surrounding Charlotte can’t handle the enormous amount of daily traffic and without a doubt remains incomplete on its northern curve. Local leaders stayed on time when constructing the NASCAR Hall of Fame and Time Warner Cable Arena? It didn’t matter how loud neighborhoods complained the reinvention of South Park Mall never stopped.
I laugh while watching Red Bull and Monster power drink guzzlers and coffee addicted survivors; the majority of those painting their insides with manmade poisons lack the true connection as to why they are constantly drained. There’s no motivation in the hours tainted by a need to always be late. The entire process is nothing more than a game of catch up.
With two minutes to spare, I’ve never understood how radio jocks can rush into a station control room and creatively come up with a show that’s worth listening to. I’ve heard every excuse from I’m that good to I do my show prep at home to there’s no easier job on earth than talking over a song intro.
They’re also the people that claim the industry is terrestrial and near its death and yet new studies show 1.9 million new listeners switched from satellite and CD’s back to the old fashioned way of singing out loud and proud in the front seat their car and at work. How? The other side of radio, having an addiction to excitement or a need to be somewhere three hours a head of time generated enough space to map out a listeners life and realize smart phones, Ipads, Xooms and the overused office tower can easily hook up to Aps and streaming websites.
We found the outlet, now if we can only figure out a way to create the right content to keep you listening longer than seven seconds. It’s not going to come from someone who’s always running late. Your business is no different. Truth is…the reason why the recession won’t end has nothing to do with banks, big business and expensive gas. Why should it be on time when the importance of time is the last thing on your mind?
Ten minutes early will change your life forever.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
The white goofy rabbit rushing through Alice in Wonderland will never live up to the tremendous amount of energy I send through each twenty four hour period. No tick on the wavering clock tocks without me walking toward the unknown purpose; I demand a solid guarantee to be who it is I’ll become hours before the expected so I can physically prepare for the unexpected.
How sick is this? Legendary rocker Grace Slick from Jefferson Starship painted a canvas for me featuring my bunny competition peacefully sitting on Alice’s lap.
I find no reason to hide this weakness; which could explain my lack of having a West coast lifestyle and radio show even in the smallest of cities that make up California. Those there are constantly fifteen minutes to an hour late which is a perfectly ripe orange, peach, strawberry and if physically possible a giant head of green lettuce.
During the 90’s Dr David the head doctor took his bright yellow number two pencil and scratched into the square living tree called paper, “This patient suffers from an addiction to excitement. If he isn’t racing toward deadlines he’ll create finish lines causing him to go until he can’t.”
The cure for such a wickedly out of control mess of a mind isn’t to locate more work…doing so has made the path of choice a tremendous failure. The doctor claims the best un-drug to shove into the system is to find a place to do nothing more than write. Which I believe might be the message Grace Slick was sending me in the painting.
No bike riding! No bowling tournaments or edge of your seat full contact hitting and kicking Tae Kwon Do. Not even a run for the boarder to toss down a ten pack of tacos smothered in super hot sauce to kill the non-beef flavor.
Waddling from side to side down the heavily crowded blvd’s that make up Santa Barbara, California a lone one owner book store in 1994 guided my blank, blank, blank and crammed the edges of a Montana made nose into a pool of honest approaches called The Artist Way from Julia Cameron. That book made time controllable.
Interestingly enough…there are opposites to this sort of addiction; brothers, sisters, coworkers, best friends and martial partners that couldn’t find the hands of a clock if it was attached to their contact lenses.
Getting a grip on the importance of time doesn’t find importance on a growing number of all people not just Californian’s. I always believed Ted Turner’s TBS started their shows five minutes late to better serve those addicted to not being ahead of schedule. His networks decision to stay late made everyone comfortable with being late. Today, having a DVR linked to your flat screen not only exceeds the limits of accepting laziness but it’s taken over our total focus. Because we’ve been trained to hit instant rewind…it’s changed our listening habits. It’s become accepted behavior to calmly say, “What?”
The stepfather Joe found reason to bash us when we’d “what” him, “I’ll show you what!”
Being on time or a little ahead is the goal. To achieve it without feeling like a time whore begins with leaving for work or a July 4th celebration ten minutes early.
Stress makes you less productive. It’s more difficult to concentrate while under pressure. Mood swings are of many when time is set aside and not taken seriously. According to the Daily Challenge leaving ten minutes earlier creates a cushion for you to fall back on.
The best example of bad timing habits is the beltway. After nearly thirty years of open debate, tax concern conversations and physical construction I-485 surrounding Charlotte can’t handle the enormous amount of daily traffic and without a doubt remains incomplete on its northern curve. Local leaders stayed on time when constructing the NASCAR Hall of Fame and Time Warner Cable Arena? It didn’t matter how loud neighborhoods complained the reinvention of South Park Mall never stopped.
I laugh while watching Red Bull and Monster power drink guzzlers and coffee addicted survivors; the majority of those painting their insides with manmade poisons lack the true connection as to why they are constantly drained. There’s no motivation in the hours tainted by a need to always be late. The entire process is nothing more than a game of catch up.
With two minutes to spare, I’ve never understood how radio jocks can rush into a station control room and creatively come up with a show that’s worth listening to. I’ve heard every excuse from I’m that good to I do my show prep at home to there’s no easier job on earth than talking over a song intro.
They’re also the people that claim the industry is terrestrial and near its death and yet new studies show 1.9 million new listeners switched from satellite and CD’s back to the old fashioned way of singing out loud and proud in the front seat their car and at work. How? The other side of radio, having an addiction to excitement or a need to be somewhere three hours a head of time generated enough space to map out a listeners life and realize smart phones, Ipads, Xooms and the overused office tower can easily hook up to Aps and streaming websites.
We found the outlet, now if we can only figure out a way to create the right content to keep you listening longer than seven seconds. It’s not going to come from someone who’s always running late. Your business is no different. Truth is…the reason why the recession won’t end has nothing to do with banks, big business and expensive gas. Why should it be on time when the importance of time is the last thing on your mind?
Ten minutes early will change your life forever.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Friday, June 24, 2011
Mother's Day is always June 28th
July 1st is next Friday! What happened to the summer of 2011? I don’t write the rules but somewhere in the tiny print it calmly explains that once we pop the firecrackers we evolve into screaming crazed zombies trapped on a rollercoaster at Carowinds.
Late Night host David Letterman recently burped up his disappointment by exposing a truer side to his unpredictable personality, “It’s hard to believe my son is seven years old! I just can’t stop it!”
I keep nearby the ashes of my puppy rescues never realizing the number of years each participated with the pages that make up the books we write. I never think of them not being around; they’re always chewing on a sock in the next room or lifting their leg on the neighbor’s mailbox.
Nearly forty nine I feel the greatest gift held is having both parents still just a phone call away. In an age of Face Book, Skype and the occasional Hallmark moment snail mail card…Vi and Joe continue to putt around inside their ancient slippers reaching for the rotary phone. It doesn’t matter how much I beg the mother figure to let me buy her a computer the excuse is all the same, “There’s something to be said about slowing time down.”
Then it happened; NBC 6 reported this morning that our brains are shamelessly evolving into an object that resembles popcorn. The cause of this new effect? We’re spending too much time tapping soon to be forgotten nothingness into the computer.
Holy Hollywood Batman! Movie makers and Star Trek conventions have it wrong…Area 51 isn’t about ET looking Katy Perry space aliens! We’re the bubble heads that’ll invade foreign waters pissing off Godzilla. That wasn’t an earthquake in Japan that was Senator Anthony Weiner’s popcorn brain!
The only known cure handed to me that physically without a doubt is the absolute best weapon against time destroying your perfectly ripe need for a vacation is to flat out no questions asked just do it…locate boredom. I’m talking Oprah’s new network combined with reruns of Beavis and Butthead and Charlie Sheen explaining how hooker’s, drug abuse and getting fired is the breakfast of champions.
Boredom! Take what I’ve written so far and read it ten times. Do all you can to memorize the way of the Arroe. You’ll be so bored that time will take the first flight out of Charlotte Douglas headed straight for the Bermuda Triangle hoping to disappear forever.
I fricken turn 49 next week. I will never be in my 40's again. I can’t tell you about anything that happened because I’m still locked on why nobody came to my eighth birthday party. And now you know why I quickly change the birthday subject choosing instead to recognize those 24 hours as a reason to celebrate motherhood. Lost in the depths of my soul is a mental image of the first time we locked onto each others eyes. For 1.3 seconds my real father’s horrid mental abuse and evil ways of treating people was no longer part of my mother’s path. And now you know why I love music so much. He forced her to sell the only thing she loved…a piano. So my entire life its been my purpose to sing her songs.
Time…I have hundreds of songs shoved onto cassettes that are quickly fading and have spent the past two years in a real recording studio mentally treating myself like a true rock star and the one song I want her to hear most remains unfinished because time hasn’t allowed the producers to find the importance of this project being something of importance.
So…again I’ll put the lyrics of the song out into the universe hoping that one day without notice the poets pen and the desire to paint music inside the eardrums of my mother’s deepest wish to hear songs reaches the soul my father destroyed.
Got thinking about that summer night…
When things didn’t feel right
And I was forced to make that call
To hear your voice before the walls came tumbling down onto the streets made of gold….inside God’s Heaven.
Thank you for believing
Thank you for always seeing
Thank you for all the hugs at night
Thank you for so much insight
I can’t walk with God until I know you’ll be alright
I can’t walk with God until your heart is felt in the kisses you placed so many times on my forehead.
Simple dreams are hard to catch
But you made it worth every step
Monday Tuesday everyday a reason to hold the memories
Childhood pictures have started to fade
But the love I have for you will never be that way
Because you are…
Mom
Driving down the road I couldn’t speak
Such an empty feeling
Heard your voice and had to say
Thank you for believing
Thank you for always seeing
Thank you for all the hugs at night
Thank you for so much insight
I can’t walk with God until I know you’ll be alright
I can’t walk with God until your heart is felt in the kisses you placed so many times on my forehead.
They say we’ve aged but I don’t believe it’s true
Time moves way too fast
But everything becomes alright
When I close my eyes and think of you
You are….
Mom
I love you
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Late Night host David Letterman recently burped up his disappointment by exposing a truer side to his unpredictable personality, “It’s hard to believe my son is seven years old! I just can’t stop it!”
I keep nearby the ashes of my puppy rescues never realizing the number of years each participated with the pages that make up the books we write. I never think of them not being around; they’re always chewing on a sock in the next room or lifting their leg on the neighbor’s mailbox.
Nearly forty nine I feel the greatest gift held is having both parents still just a phone call away. In an age of Face Book, Skype and the occasional Hallmark moment snail mail card…Vi and Joe continue to putt around inside their ancient slippers reaching for the rotary phone. It doesn’t matter how much I beg the mother figure to let me buy her a computer the excuse is all the same, “There’s something to be said about slowing time down.”
Then it happened; NBC 6 reported this morning that our brains are shamelessly evolving into an object that resembles popcorn. The cause of this new effect? We’re spending too much time tapping soon to be forgotten nothingness into the computer.
Holy Hollywood Batman! Movie makers and Star Trek conventions have it wrong…Area 51 isn’t about ET looking Katy Perry space aliens! We’re the bubble heads that’ll invade foreign waters pissing off Godzilla. That wasn’t an earthquake in Japan that was Senator Anthony Weiner’s popcorn brain!
The only known cure handed to me that physically without a doubt is the absolute best weapon against time destroying your perfectly ripe need for a vacation is to flat out no questions asked just do it…locate boredom. I’m talking Oprah’s new network combined with reruns of Beavis and Butthead and Charlie Sheen explaining how hooker’s, drug abuse and getting fired is the breakfast of champions.
Boredom! Take what I’ve written so far and read it ten times. Do all you can to memorize the way of the Arroe. You’ll be so bored that time will take the first flight out of Charlotte Douglas headed straight for the Bermuda Triangle hoping to disappear forever.
I fricken turn 49 next week. I will never be in my 40's again. I can’t tell you about anything that happened because I’m still locked on why nobody came to my eighth birthday party. And now you know why I quickly change the birthday subject choosing instead to recognize those 24 hours as a reason to celebrate motherhood. Lost in the depths of my soul is a mental image of the first time we locked onto each others eyes. For 1.3 seconds my real father’s horrid mental abuse and evil ways of treating people was no longer part of my mother’s path. And now you know why I love music so much. He forced her to sell the only thing she loved…a piano. So my entire life its been my purpose to sing her songs.
Time…I have hundreds of songs shoved onto cassettes that are quickly fading and have spent the past two years in a real recording studio mentally treating myself like a true rock star and the one song I want her to hear most remains unfinished because time hasn’t allowed the producers to find the importance of this project being something of importance.
So…again I’ll put the lyrics of the song out into the universe hoping that one day without notice the poets pen and the desire to paint music inside the eardrums of my mother’s deepest wish to hear songs reaches the soul my father destroyed.
Got thinking about that summer night…
When things didn’t feel right
And I was forced to make that call
To hear your voice before the walls came tumbling down onto the streets made of gold….inside God’s Heaven.
Thank you for believing
Thank you for always seeing
Thank you for all the hugs at night
Thank you for so much insight
I can’t walk with God until I know you’ll be alright
I can’t walk with God until your heart is felt in the kisses you placed so many times on my forehead.
Simple dreams are hard to catch
But you made it worth every step
Monday Tuesday everyday a reason to hold the memories
Childhood pictures have started to fade
But the love I have for you will never be that way
Because you are…
Mom
Driving down the road I couldn’t speak
Such an empty feeling
Heard your voice and had to say
Thank you for believing
Thank you for always seeing
Thank you for all the hugs at night
Thank you for so much insight
I can’t walk with God until I know you’ll be alright
I can’t walk with God until your heart is felt in the kisses you placed so many times on my forehead.
They say we’ve aged but I don’t believe it’s true
Time moves way too fast
But everything becomes alright
When I close my eyes and think of you
You are….
Mom
I love you
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Insanity doesn't end or begin in a mirror...
Today I looked in the mirror…
The person standing across from the tooth brush I tightly gripped might be the same age I am.
I didn’t question. I didn’t find reason to challenge. I half heartedly stood there with my addiction to determination wondering what it would take to remove this thing from the mirror so that my two
aching ankles could locate enough balance to touch success.
Stop! Insert comments from 11th grade Creative Writing teacher Mrs. Eschler who would take her evil as sin squeaky red El Marko Flair pen and scrape across such thought these heavy rehearsed constantly tired almost never understand words: This collection of run on sentences with improper punctuation gives nothing to the reader because the author elected to put ego before acceptance. What are you trying to say? Your view of the world is so far off the ground NASA refuses to call it a UFO believing there are some things people should never talk about.
Break it down…
You want. You need. Requirement is a daily function. I hear it everyday, “There are too many walls in my life to seek what I once dreamed.”
That wall, invisible bricks, bad decisions made on rainy day Monday’s has a face, two eyes and the remnants of a booger in the left nostril and you don’t have the guts to save them from future embarrassment. Why that image in the mirror elects to show up each time you poke your head into a pool of reflection makes it more unconditional with its love than a dog.
Then it occurred to me today…if the frame before you stood to your left or right and bared the name family or friend…it’s an hourly ritual in this country to ask them to slide to the side so you may pass. But that image stands in front of you every time you go into the bathroom, drive the car, walk by a giant window at a mall store! At least a shadow disappears at the stroke of midnight.
If for one second the image would leave its post…where would your dreams breathe?
Call me insane, a whacked out washed up former teen turned adult figure but that wall can be climbed, dug under, moved around or through. In recent weeks I’ve placed my 2nd degree black belt in front of the mirror not to inflate my confidence but to reach through it like a fist shatters a brick but with no invitation to create more destruction.
All things held in the image of a mirror is who you were. The laws of reality don’t allow it to escape into the future. It only reflects what you’ve experienced.
Shaped like my mothers heart each eye placed into the forehead of the reflection watches me more than George Orwell’s Big Brother. What is strong isn’t what’s on the other side it what you hold inside.
Rather than stand in the mirror to see if your bicep is growing if your butt might be too much for society to handle…change you not what the mirror is willing to let you see for free. Mirrors lie, bend the rules, find reason to forgive too quickly and seek no reason to protect you from unexpected changes and all things required to recover.
It’s your choice to educate the mirror.
I half heartedly stood there with my addiction to determination wondering what it would take to remove this thing from the mirror so that my two aching ankles could locate enough balance to touch success.
If you believe so much in what’s being projected from the mirror why haven’t you included its name on a resume? Take the potential employer into the nearest restroom and have them interview that thing looking back at the two of you.
Mine would slowly shake its head from side to side then reply, “Don’t waste your time.”
Because that’s what mirrors do. It’s the place embarrassed weekend wagons that have fallen push you to ask deep questions without ever getting honest answers. A favorite song slips from your car radio speakers and instantly you’re the next American Idol blasting those vocals out like rock stars on ice. The tiny peeps in the seats behind you seek nothing more than to bring rage to your cage and without a doubt the image in the mirror catches you in a state of fear and says, “You were once this way.”
Or does it?
A mirror doesn’t talk back. Like dogs and cats we’re easily convinced a look, stare, reaction, pant or readjusting of the belt or skirt is a map to follow on a journey toward only one destination.
Do you know what’s made it worse? Digital cameras… One click and a quick spin to see what was preserved onto an itty bitty teeny weenie little chip.
A picture of me was taken while sitting at a table in Chicago staring into a handheld mirror. I’m drawn to that picture like M.C. Escher cut into his own image and placed it on paper. You don’t have to believe in ghosts but by God you better give all you’ve got to the thing on the other side of that sheet of glass.
If what it says is truth…why do objects in a mirror seem closer than they appear?
Why has the black belt been set in front of the mirror? To remind it of the path I chose to walk and no matter how much it hurts at 49 to be thrown like trash from a car on I-77 or some back road in South Carolina…the journey didn’t end on the day the heart my mother breathed life into rebooted.
A mirror doesn’t tell you not to achieve success. It’s you who says, “I quit.”
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
The person standing across from the tooth brush I tightly gripped might be the same age I am.
I didn’t question. I didn’t find reason to challenge. I half heartedly stood there with my addiction to determination wondering what it would take to remove this thing from the mirror so that my two
aching ankles could locate enough balance to touch success.
Stop! Insert comments from 11th grade Creative Writing teacher Mrs. Eschler who would take her evil as sin squeaky red El Marko Flair pen and scrape across such thought these heavy rehearsed constantly tired almost never understand words: This collection of run on sentences with improper punctuation gives nothing to the reader because the author elected to put ego before acceptance. What are you trying to say? Your view of the world is so far off the ground NASA refuses to call it a UFO believing there are some things people should never talk about.
Break it down…
You want. You need. Requirement is a daily function. I hear it everyday, “There are too many walls in my life to seek what I once dreamed.”
That wall, invisible bricks, bad decisions made on rainy day Monday’s has a face, two eyes and the remnants of a booger in the left nostril and you don’t have the guts to save them from future embarrassment. Why that image in the mirror elects to show up each time you poke your head into a pool of reflection makes it more unconditional with its love than a dog.
Then it occurred to me today…if the frame before you stood to your left or right and bared the name family or friend…it’s an hourly ritual in this country to ask them to slide to the side so you may pass. But that image stands in front of you every time you go into the bathroom, drive the car, walk by a giant window at a mall store! At least a shadow disappears at the stroke of midnight.
If for one second the image would leave its post…where would your dreams breathe?
Call me insane, a whacked out washed up former teen turned adult figure but that wall can be climbed, dug under, moved around or through. In recent weeks I’ve placed my 2nd degree black belt in front of the mirror not to inflate my confidence but to reach through it like a fist shatters a brick but with no invitation to create more destruction.
All things held in the image of a mirror is who you were. The laws of reality don’t allow it to escape into the future. It only reflects what you’ve experienced.
Shaped like my mothers heart each eye placed into the forehead of the reflection watches me more than George Orwell’s Big Brother. What is strong isn’t what’s on the other side it what you hold inside.
Rather than stand in the mirror to see if your bicep is growing if your butt might be too much for society to handle…change you not what the mirror is willing to let you see for free. Mirrors lie, bend the rules, find reason to forgive too quickly and seek no reason to protect you from unexpected changes and all things required to recover.
It’s your choice to educate the mirror.
I half heartedly stood there with my addiction to determination wondering what it would take to remove this thing from the mirror so that my two aching ankles could locate enough balance to touch success.
If you believe so much in what’s being projected from the mirror why haven’t you included its name on a resume? Take the potential employer into the nearest restroom and have them interview that thing looking back at the two of you.
Mine would slowly shake its head from side to side then reply, “Don’t waste your time.”
Because that’s what mirrors do. It’s the place embarrassed weekend wagons that have fallen push you to ask deep questions without ever getting honest answers. A favorite song slips from your car radio speakers and instantly you’re the next American Idol blasting those vocals out like rock stars on ice. The tiny peeps in the seats behind you seek nothing more than to bring rage to your cage and without a doubt the image in the mirror catches you in a state of fear and says, “You were once this way.”
Or does it?
A mirror doesn’t talk back. Like dogs and cats we’re easily convinced a look, stare, reaction, pant or readjusting of the belt or skirt is a map to follow on a journey toward only one destination.
Do you know what’s made it worse? Digital cameras… One click and a quick spin to see what was preserved onto an itty bitty teeny weenie little chip.
A picture of me was taken while sitting at a table in Chicago staring into a handheld mirror. I’m drawn to that picture like M.C. Escher cut into his own image and placed it on paper. You don’t have to believe in ghosts but by God you better give all you’ve got to the thing on the other side of that sheet of glass.
If what it says is truth…why do objects in a mirror seem closer than they appear?
Why has the black belt been set in front of the mirror? To remind it of the path I chose to walk and no matter how much it hurts at 49 to be thrown like trash from a car on I-77 or some back road in South Carolina…the journey didn’t end on the day the heart my mother breathed life into rebooted.
A mirror doesn’t tell you not to achieve success. It’s you who says, “I quit.”
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Who did you say you were?
Mark Twain is looked upon as being one of this nation’s most brilliant paper scrapers; one who scratches thoughts into the core of a living tree turned into a thin blizzard white canvas.
His greatest challenge wasn’t facing editors, printers, buyers, sellers and or an imagination that decided when and if it would show up for work…Twain had unheard of difficulty masterminding a plan to tell his own tale.
Twain wrote: I have been dictating this autobiography daily for three months. I have thought of fifteen hundred or two thousand incidents in my life which I am ashamed of, but I have not gotten one of them to consent to go on paper yet. I believe if I should put in all or any of those incidents I should be sure to strike them out when I come to revise the book.
Mr. Twain deeply disliked unveiling the skeletons in his closet because of an evolution we all introduce ourselves to; what we lived is no reason to share because to regurgitate it teaches us to reinvent fact.
Wikipedia typos and rewrites are nothing compared to the chapters of our daily lives. By the time our efforts reach the image in the mirror, like the child’s game Telephone…the message received has nothing in common with the origin of thought.
Bill Gates and Steve Jobs built machines that opened our minds to erasing without having to paint whiteout over ideas now changed. For PC fans Control/Alt/Delete masks the problem it doesn’t solve the issue. We eat to fade away from bad moods. We buy to reboot our love for life. For millions the vision of having passion for the art we design at work has evolved into a 480 minute prayer meeting echoing our gratitude for insurance companies that have grabbed American culture by the nun-sims and squeezed until there’s nothing.
Chuck writes on Face Book, “I’m tired of being the generation that can’t break away from an episode of Friends. They are beating us to death! Where is originality?”
Research shows American’s find an overload of peace and tranquility living in the past, therefore the Entertainment business doesn’t punish us with repeats but instead feeds our reasons to feel safe in a past that Mark Twain believes we rewrite everyday.
I challenge you to go back three to five weeks and reread your Face Book posts. Invite your present to sit with the past and learn to recognize how much you haven’t changed.
I’m extremely guilty of this mental torture! Three of my books wouldn’t be without having a firm relationship with a past that hangs around like a worn out intern or family member.
After 33 years of sitting loosely in the empty radio channels and poetic curves of a hell bent creative life and style I decided to finally complete a book I began in the eleventh grade. It’s only reason for life was to keep me motivated to stay in school. Therefore the junior in high school created a place to breathe. The book has changed so many times man not only switched back to being a monkey but his evolution now includes a cell phone attached to the inner lip next to the front teeth turned into flat screens.
Fans of Twain waited 100 years for his authentic never before seen adventures with a writing instrument. An avenue of travel he didn’t want to participate with but peer pressure forced him to push ink into the veins of history.
The National Enquirer once hoisted a flag over the greatest collection of word dumping within the circles of success: Because inquiring minds want to know.
And now you know the image we fear to shed. In each of us is a tiny battery operated device that taps on your shoulder every chance it gets to remind you of something you promised yourself you’d never forget.
I don’t remember my grandparents talking about crossing paths with friends long gone and written out of the will. The idea of taking something to your grave passed away in the 19080’s during an episode of The Dukes of Hazard.
A Spanish friend writes, “I didn’t come to this country to hear what my parents listen to in Mexico. I want Led Zeppelin, Boston and KISS. Please let me borrow your Marvin Gaye CD’s.”
What is the drug that keeps us addicted to the past?
A minister once shouted from his pulpit, “Your life! Will be played back! Oh it will be played back! Everything you do today! Everything you did yesterday! Every happy time! Every crime! Your life! The beginning all the way until the end will be played back before you enter the gates of Heaven! Then God will decide if what you did…if what you do tomorrow…if what you said, say and deliver through the actions of choice if you shall enter his home blessed with eternal peace.”
Ok…innocent question. Lord knows my book Conversation with the Devil ruffled a few unexpected feathers…if the keeper of the Beta tape player is gonna play it all back…what in his name are we doing hitting button while here on earth?
Reach! I said reach! Reach for a new dream! You were born to create not rewrite, edit, undo or crumple up, delete, repeat and or bring back up every time someone steps on your ten little toes! Shape the future by participating with it. Do it before it’s too late!
I love the idea that NASA has dropped the space shuttle mission because its time for our human feet to walk on Mars. We can't get there playing Chess in an International Space Station.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
His greatest challenge wasn’t facing editors, printers, buyers, sellers and or an imagination that decided when and if it would show up for work…Twain had unheard of difficulty masterminding a plan to tell his own tale.
Twain wrote: I have been dictating this autobiography daily for three months. I have thought of fifteen hundred or two thousand incidents in my life which I am ashamed of, but I have not gotten one of them to consent to go on paper yet. I believe if I should put in all or any of those incidents I should be sure to strike them out when I come to revise the book.
Mr. Twain deeply disliked unveiling the skeletons in his closet because of an evolution we all introduce ourselves to; what we lived is no reason to share because to regurgitate it teaches us to reinvent fact.
Wikipedia typos and rewrites are nothing compared to the chapters of our daily lives. By the time our efforts reach the image in the mirror, like the child’s game Telephone…the message received has nothing in common with the origin of thought.
Bill Gates and Steve Jobs built machines that opened our minds to erasing without having to paint whiteout over ideas now changed. For PC fans Control/Alt/Delete masks the problem it doesn’t solve the issue. We eat to fade away from bad moods. We buy to reboot our love for life. For millions the vision of having passion for the art we design at work has evolved into a 480 minute prayer meeting echoing our gratitude for insurance companies that have grabbed American culture by the nun-sims and squeezed until there’s nothing.
Chuck writes on Face Book, “I’m tired of being the generation that can’t break away from an episode of Friends. They are beating us to death! Where is originality?”
Research shows American’s find an overload of peace and tranquility living in the past, therefore the Entertainment business doesn’t punish us with repeats but instead feeds our reasons to feel safe in a past that Mark Twain believes we rewrite everyday.
I challenge you to go back three to five weeks and reread your Face Book posts. Invite your present to sit with the past and learn to recognize how much you haven’t changed.
I’m extremely guilty of this mental torture! Three of my books wouldn’t be without having a firm relationship with a past that hangs around like a worn out intern or family member.
After 33 years of sitting loosely in the empty radio channels and poetic curves of a hell bent creative life and style I decided to finally complete a book I began in the eleventh grade. It’s only reason for life was to keep me motivated to stay in school. Therefore the junior in high school created a place to breathe. The book has changed so many times man not only switched back to being a monkey but his evolution now includes a cell phone attached to the inner lip next to the front teeth turned into flat screens.
Fans of Twain waited 100 years for his authentic never before seen adventures with a writing instrument. An avenue of travel he didn’t want to participate with but peer pressure forced him to push ink into the veins of history.
The National Enquirer once hoisted a flag over the greatest collection of word dumping within the circles of success: Because inquiring minds want to know.
And now you know the image we fear to shed. In each of us is a tiny battery operated device that taps on your shoulder every chance it gets to remind you of something you promised yourself you’d never forget.
I don’t remember my grandparents talking about crossing paths with friends long gone and written out of the will. The idea of taking something to your grave passed away in the 19080’s during an episode of The Dukes of Hazard.
A Spanish friend writes, “I didn’t come to this country to hear what my parents listen to in Mexico. I want Led Zeppelin, Boston and KISS. Please let me borrow your Marvin Gaye CD’s.”
What is the drug that keeps us addicted to the past?
A minister once shouted from his pulpit, “Your life! Will be played back! Oh it will be played back! Everything you do today! Everything you did yesterday! Every happy time! Every crime! Your life! The beginning all the way until the end will be played back before you enter the gates of Heaven! Then God will decide if what you did…if what you do tomorrow…if what you said, say and deliver through the actions of choice if you shall enter his home blessed with eternal peace.”
Ok…innocent question. Lord knows my book Conversation with the Devil ruffled a few unexpected feathers…if the keeper of the Beta tape player is gonna play it all back…what in his name are we doing hitting button while here on earth?
Reach! I said reach! Reach for a new dream! You were born to create not rewrite, edit, undo or crumple up, delete, repeat and or bring back up every time someone steps on your ten little toes! Shape the future by participating with it. Do it before it’s too late!
I love the idea that NASA has dropped the space shuttle mission because its time for our human feet to walk on Mars. We can't get there playing Chess in an International Space Station.
I will always believe in you first…
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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