Nearly seven months ago, I made a decision that changed my life forever. I decided to leave the full time job and take a real crack at this crazy business. Before, I was getting work, but the jobs actually cost me a few gigs. I got tired of that and made the leap.
Do I regret this? Absolutely not. I may not have a lot of money right now(That comes from having a job that's 2-3 days a week, and very little other money coming in), but I'm good at keeping my money in check, so that's no big deal. I also have a lot more time to network and get myself out there, not to mention finishing up a script(I'll blog about that another time).
But I'd be lying if I didn't get a little frustrated. In one case, I've become a social networking butterfly. Not only do I friend a bunch of people, but I end up meeting them and even work with a few. I also have a tiny consolation of being in the top 100,000 in IMDB, even with two credits(Soon to be three, by the way. Look for Broken Benjamin really soon). But the competitor in me always wants more, and it's frustrating to not get calls from my agent, even when she works hard to put me out there. Makes me wonder if there's something wrong with me at times.
You know something, though? I just have to remember that this is all part of the process. Actors far more talented than me have gone through this too. We all have taken this leap into the great beyond, and few of us will survive the leap.
Either way, none of us regret said leap. We wouldn't want this any other way.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Everything in pill form.
My brother and I watch a ton of stupid television. Besides being an outlet for a good laugh, you also get really really stupid commercials, and stupid products behind said commercials.
For instance, there's the Baby Bullet, FROM THE MAKERS OF MAGIC BULLET, which makes all your baby food from nice fresh produce, and "saves money not buying all those jars", which since produce is up 600% anyway, makes that argument completely moot.
Or there's any variation of machines you strap around your waist, and the "electrodes wake the muscles up and make them work" while you sit on your ass. Never mind those backbreaking crunches that have never broken a back a day in anyone's life, all you have to do is sit on your ass to get that shredded body.
Even better, there's a program out there that allows you to eat whatever you want, work out like five minutes a day, and you can lose an inordinate amount of weight. Even though that was on one of those 3 AM infomercials(That I got accustomed to while working on my script), it still counts.
Let's go one further. How about any of a number of get rich quick schemes that promise that you make $300,000 in one month, and only 5 hours of work a week.
In other words, if there is zero work involved, no sweat required, or little effort needed, the product is a guarantee top seller.
And this is exactly where my blog title comes into play. My buddy Greg(An actor buddy of mine that I'll bring up later) said it best. Society wants everything in pill form. They don't want to put forth true effort, or blood, sweat, and tears. They want it all easy, and all right now.
Even the entertainment world has fallen into this trap. While there are still the usual struggles to get ahead, there are also easier ways. You can go the way of Nicole Polizzi or Mike Sorrentino, AKA Snooki and The Situation. Simply go on one of a number of reality shows(cheaper production values, so the network doesn't have to put on real television), make sure said show uses zero IQ points so that the majority of the population understands the show, and/or gets a laugh out of hotheads that think they can fight, or women that can't shut their mouths.
You truly want to know what's wrong with our country? It's not the rich people holding the lesser people back(biggest myth ever concocted), or politicians not looking out for people, or any of a number of excuses.
It's that the United States of America, which was once built from blood, sweat, guts, and guile, a country that was built on the back of people with unlimited determination, and blisters on their feet, has now accepted that you can lose weight without effort, gain muscle without the pain, cook five course meals in seven minutes, and make a ton of cash without the work ethic. They have also accepted that we are 24th in the world in standardized testing, behind some third world countries, and barely blink.
So what do we do? I could spend hours going over the same stuff that I've written in other blogs, but I won't this time. I'm just going to take a quote from a favorite movie of mine.
"Get busy living, or get busy dying" - Red from Shawshank Redemption
When the majority of this country is ready to start living again, call me.
For instance, there's the Baby Bullet, FROM THE MAKERS OF MAGIC BULLET, which makes all your baby food from nice fresh produce, and "saves money not buying all those jars", which since produce is up 600% anyway, makes that argument completely moot.
Or there's any variation of machines you strap around your waist, and the "electrodes wake the muscles up and make them work" while you sit on your ass. Never mind those backbreaking crunches that have never broken a back a day in anyone's life, all you have to do is sit on your ass to get that shredded body.
Even better, there's a program out there that allows you to eat whatever you want, work out like five minutes a day, and you can lose an inordinate amount of weight. Even though that was on one of those 3 AM infomercials(That I got accustomed to while working on my script), it still counts.
Let's go one further. How about any of a number of get rich quick schemes that promise that you make $300,000 in one month, and only 5 hours of work a week.
In other words, if there is zero work involved, no sweat required, or little effort needed, the product is a guarantee top seller.
And this is exactly where my blog title comes into play. My buddy Greg(An actor buddy of mine that I'll bring up later) said it best. Society wants everything in pill form. They don't want to put forth true effort, or blood, sweat, and tears. They want it all easy, and all right now.
Even the entertainment world has fallen into this trap. While there are still the usual struggles to get ahead, there are also easier ways. You can go the way of Nicole Polizzi or Mike Sorrentino, AKA Snooki and The Situation. Simply go on one of a number of reality shows(cheaper production values, so the network doesn't have to put on real television), make sure said show uses zero IQ points so that the majority of the population understands the show, and/or gets a laugh out of hotheads that think they can fight, or women that can't shut their mouths.
You truly want to know what's wrong with our country? It's not the rich people holding the lesser people back(biggest myth ever concocted), or politicians not looking out for people, or any of a number of excuses.
It's that the United States of America, which was once built from blood, sweat, guts, and guile, a country that was built on the back of people with unlimited determination, and blisters on their feet, has now accepted that you can lose weight without effort, gain muscle without the pain, cook five course meals in seven minutes, and make a ton of cash without the work ethic. They have also accepted that we are 24th in the world in standardized testing, behind some third world countries, and barely blink.
So what do we do? I could spend hours going over the same stuff that I've written in other blogs, but I won't this time. I'm just going to take a quote from a favorite movie of mine.
"Get busy living, or get busy dying" - Red from Shawshank Redemption
When the majority of this country is ready to start living again, call me.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
The world's biggest contradiction
I'll admit it. I don't know what to think of it, but I'll admit it.
I'm a contradiction.
Maybe I was born this way. I can't really tell, although I doubt God puts "contradiction" under anyone's list of quirks(provided God would even give you quirks, or if it's just a part of you).
But I've come to accept it.
I've come to accept that I have a very old school mind, yet love to embrace the new school.
I've come to accept that I can watch football with a bunch of drunk goofs, yet be happy watching a tennis match from August 24th, 1978(My birthday, by the way. Don't forget to send a gift).
I've come to accept that I can go to a play, symphony, or opera with anyone now, and yet still watch pro wrestling like when I was 13.
I've come to accept that I have no natural athletic ability whatsoever, yet I have had some level of success in two different sports(Tennis and Martial Arts)
I've come to accept that we have generations of architects, contractors, business people, and engineers in our family, and I want to be an actor.
I've come to accept that I am tighter than under armor on T.O. with money, but yet I buy nothing but name brands, and sometimes even luxury items if the opportunity presents itself.
I've come to accept that I've never made more than $30,000 a year because of the path I have chosen to take, yet I've paid off all my debts, and bought a new car in 2009.
I've come to accept that my father was my hero. I adored him from beginning to end. But when he hinted at my coming home when college was over, I always said no. Just like he did years earlier, I just wanted to choose my own path in life.
So that's who I am. I never understood it for the longest time, but I do now. We're all just built differently, and that should be embraced. Some of us are 9-5ers, and some of us would rather have limited resources till we make our way in something we love.
So enjoy life, my friends. As an actor friend of mine said once.....we don't get a second take.
I'm a contradiction.
Maybe I was born this way. I can't really tell, although I doubt God puts "contradiction" under anyone's list of quirks(provided God would even give you quirks, or if it's just a part of you).
But I've come to accept it.
I've come to accept that I have a very old school mind, yet love to embrace the new school.
I've come to accept that I can watch football with a bunch of drunk goofs, yet be happy watching a tennis match from August 24th, 1978(My birthday, by the way. Don't forget to send a gift).
I've come to accept that I can go to a play, symphony, or opera with anyone now, and yet still watch pro wrestling like when I was 13.
I've come to accept that I have no natural athletic ability whatsoever, yet I have had some level of success in two different sports(Tennis and Martial Arts)
I've come to accept that we have generations of architects, contractors, business people, and engineers in our family, and I want to be an actor.
I've come to accept that I am tighter than under armor on T.O. with money, but yet I buy nothing but name brands, and sometimes even luxury items if the opportunity presents itself.
I've come to accept that I've never made more than $30,000 a year because of the path I have chosen to take, yet I've paid off all my debts, and bought a new car in 2009.
I've come to accept that my father was my hero. I adored him from beginning to end. But when he hinted at my coming home when college was over, I always said no. Just like he did years earlier, I just wanted to choose my own path in life.
So that's who I am. I never understood it for the longest time, but I do now. We're all just built differently, and that should be embraced. Some of us are 9-5ers, and some of us would rather have limited resources till we make our way in something we love.
So enjoy life, my friends. As an actor friend of mine said once.....we don't get a second take.
Monday, May 30, 2011
The true birth of an actor
Hulk Hogan recently said "The longer I've been in the wrestling business, the more I don't know about it".
After this weekend, that's how I felt about acting.
Let me explain.
This past weekend, I took an audition technique course with Crystal Carson, an acting coach out of Hollywood. Simply put, my agent(Jana Van Dyke), sent me a notice that Crystal was coming into town, and I had like one day to pay for the class. Now I'm not the richest actor in the world, but it didn't hurt that I invested in silver over the past six months. I ended up selling it off(Even made a little profit), and paid for the class.
Even signing up for the class, much less stepping foot in the class and meeting Crystal, reminded me how far I've come from the overzealous 27 year old with his first actor training(First teacher's name was Nick Conti, by the way). Being honest, I've never been overzealous when meeting celebrities, or even being in their presence(That comes from having a Dad that hammered that in my head. Story about that another time), but I have to admit that I was very excited to step into that room for the first time on Friday Night. Knowing the people she has worked with, you feel like you could be the next big thing, and she's the reason why. I wasn't nervous walking in, but the heart raced a hundred miles an hour. It felt like I was closer to my goal, even if I've still never been to L.A.
We had eleven in the seminar, and it was apparent that this wasn't going to be garden variety. First off, most acting classes have those three or four people that are as green as grass, and taking their first classes(as I was in 2005). In this one, the most green person still had a year of training. I'm now in a room with some top quality actors, so I felt I had to prove myself that I belonged in there.
Day 1 - I get a side for "The Hills", and I have to read for Spencer. I knew exactly where I was going with this, and asked to go first(ended up being second). Big mistake. I completely forgot cold reading 101 and ended up looking like a bobble head doll on tape. Still, my decisions did get complimented, and we pretty much overlooked my overzealous nature. By the way, the scene was Spencer blasting away on everyone in sight, per usual. Not a hard scene at all.
Day 2 - We work on "Franklin and Bash", and on a scale of 1-10, the scene was about a 5-6 in difficulty(Probably would've been a 3-4 if we had the main characters, but we had to read the bad guy, which is always fun. After my first day overzealousness, I told her I'd go last for the rest of the seminar so I could prepare. It worked on this day. After preparing by myself for a couple of hours, and getting in that moment, I end up going last, and knew I nailed that scene. Saw myself on tape and with the exception of a couple of mistakes, I really nailed it well. I was very happy, and was looking forward to the final day.
In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have been.
Day 3 - Final day, and what timing to lay a proverbial egg. We are reading "Necessary Roughness", and it's a pretty tough scene. Even offering to go last again, I was WAY OFF! Messed up lines, committed a cardinal sin and moved the script around, overacted at points, and completely sucked the rest of it. Saw the tape, and there was only one line of dialogue where I was really in that moment, which was probably three more than I was expecting anyway. I knew that it sucked, and I really didn't want to see myself. I was bummed out for the rest of class, knowing that I laid a huge egg on my last day. Even crazier, I had an open chance to not view it when Crystal asked if we've seen all the videos. I spoke up and said "there's still me". Hey, I may get pissed or discouraged, but I don't run away from anything.
When we finished watching it, Crystal saw the look on my face and reminded me that every actor goes through this. It's hard to remember that because I'm such a perfectionist, and hate making mistakes. She gave me a big hug and also reminded me I had some really good moments in those three days, and to learn from the mistakes.
Even with Crystal's encouragement, I wanted to kick a cat. I was so pissed off that I finished off that great seminar with a horrid performance. Then my girlfriend(Stephanie Santos' is her name.....SAG actress *hint hint*) reminded me of one important thing. She reminded me that we do not learn from having everything go perfectly. We learn from all the bad times we go through. It's funny that I'm the one that gives the people around me motivation, and she turned the tables on me there. After hearing that, it made me contemplate(also reminded me why I love her).
So in closing, I wrote Crystal an email today thanking her for the great class, and asked her to do one thing. When my time comes to hit it big, I want her to show that hideous performance to any and all of her students that ever get discouraged. I want to be the one that motivates someone to know that they can get there with a little luck, a lot of determination, and even more work.
I can say it now folks.......it's just the beginning.
After this weekend, that's how I felt about acting.
Let me explain.
This past weekend, I took an audition technique course with Crystal Carson, an acting coach out of Hollywood. Simply put, my agent(Jana Van Dyke), sent me a notice that Crystal was coming into town, and I had like one day to pay for the class. Now I'm not the richest actor in the world, but it didn't hurt that I invested in silver over the past six months. I ended up selling it off(Even made a little profit), and paid for the class.
Even signing up for the class, much less stepping foot in the class and meeting Crystal, reminded me how far I've come from the overzealous 27 year old with his first actor training(First teacher's name was Nick Conti, by the way). Being honest, I've never been overzealous when meeting celebrities, or even being in their presence(That comes from having a Dad that hammered that in my head. Story about that another time), but I have to admit that I was very excited to step into that room for the first time on Friday Night. Knowing the people she has worked with, you feel like you could be the next big thing, and she's the reason why. I wasn't nervous walking in, but the heart raced a hundred miles an hour. It felt like I was closer to my goal, even if I've still never been to L.A.
We had eleven in the seminar, and it was apparent that this wasn't going to be garden variety. First off, most acting classes have those three or four people that are as green as grass, and taking their first classes(as I was in 2005). In this one, the most green person still had a year of training. I'm now in a room with some top quality actors, so I felt I had to prove myself that I belonged in there.
Day 1 - I get a side for "The Hills", and I have to read for Spencer. I knew exactly where I was going with this, and asked to go first(ended up being second). Big mistake. I completely forgot cold reading 101 and ended up looking like a bobble head doll on tape. Still, my decisions did get complimented, and we pretty much overlooked my overzealous nature. By the way, the scene was Spencer blasting away on everyone in sight, per usual. Not a hard scene at all.
Day 2 - We work on "Franklin and Bash", and on a scale of 1-10, the scene was about a 5-6 in difficulty(Probably would've been a 3-4 if we had the main characters, but we had to read the bad guy, which is always fun. After my first day overzealousness, I told her I'd go last for the rest of the seminar so I could prepare. It worked on this day. After preparing by myself for a couple of hours, and getting in that moment, I end up going last, and knew I nailed that scene. Saw myself on tape and with the exception of a couple of mistakes, I really nailed it well. I was very happy, and was looking forward to the final day.
In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have been.
Day 3 - Final day, and what timing to lay a proverbial egg. We are reading "Necessary Roughness", and it's a pretty tough scene. Even offering to go last again, I was WAY OFF! Messed up lines, committed a cardinal sin and moved the script around, overacted at points, and completely sucked the rest of it. Saw the tape, and there was only one line of dialogue where I was really in that moment, which was probably three more than I was expecting anyway. I knew that it sucked, and I really didn't want to see myself. I was bummed out for the rest of class, knowing that I laid a huge egg on my last day. Even crazier, I had an open chance to not view it when Crystal asked if we've seen all the videos. I spoke up and said "there's still me". Hey, I may get pissed or discouraged, but I don't run away from anything.
When we finished watching it, Crystal saw the look on my face and reminded me that every actor goes through this. It's hard to remember that because I'm such a perfectionist, and hate making mistakes. She gave me a big hug and also reminded me I had some really good moments in those three days, and to learn from the mistakes.
Even with Crystal's encouragement, I wanted to kick a cat. I was so pissed off that I finished off that great seminar with a horrid performance. Then my girlfriend(Stephanie Santos' is her name.....SAG actress *hint hint*) reminded me of one important thing. She reminded me that we do not learn from having everything go perfectly. We learn from all the bad times we go through. It's funny that I'm the one that gives the people around me motivation, and she turned the tables on me there. After hearing that, it made me contemplate(also reminded me why I love her).
So in closing, I wrote Crystal an email today thanking her for the great class, and asked her to do one thing. When my time comes to hit it big, I want her to show that hideous performance to any and all of her students that ever get discouraged. I want to be the one that motivates someone to know that they can get there with a little luck, a lot of determination, and even more work.
I can say it now folks.......it's just the beginning.
Monday, May 23, 2011
32, and not a day over 21
I hear the excuses all the time.
"I'm too old"
"I'm too fat"
"I can't do that at my age"
And that's just from people my age.
I'm 32 years old. To place that number and the word "old" in the same sentence usually gets a chuckle out of people that are actually old, but I have to admit it crept up on me. I see a few more gray hairs on my head, and I get stiffer after tennis or basketball than I did at 17.
But that's where the "complaints" end.
When I was 17, I couldn't even touch the net on a basketball hoop. When I was 17, I was so awkward, I could twist my ankles eating cheerios. When I was 17, I was five years out of playing baseball because I couldn't hit anything over 50 mph.
Fifteen years later, I can run and touch the rim(eventually, I'd like to dunk the ball), I have a black belt, and I can hit a 90 mph fastball, and regularly. I also never acted in high school or college, yet ended up being a trained actor and director(Which is a sweet middle finger to the teacher that wouldn't put me in her acting class at Lee University because she thought I had no chance to succeed)
I'm admittedly tooting my own horn, but not for my own benefit. This is to show people that anything is possible. That's not saying that anyone that wants to start playing chess will be a guaranteed grandmaster, or that someone that starts piano is going to be at Carnegie Hall.
It just means that you can get as good at anything as your efforts take you. Watch any morbidly obese person that loses all that weight and ends up in marathons. Those stories are all over the internet.
So what are you waiting for? You aren't in a box yet, so go for it!
Life's too short to be mundane!
"I'm too old"
"I'm too fat"
"I can't do that at my age"
And that's just from people my age.
I'm 32 years old. To place that number and the word "old" in the same sentence usually gets a chuckle out of people that are actually old, but I have to admit it crept up on me. I see a few more gray hairs on my head, and I get stiffer after tennis or basketball than I did at 17.
But that's where the "complaints" end.
When I was 17, I couldn't even touch the net on a basketball hoop. When I was 17, I was so awkward, I could twist my ankles eating cheerios. When I was 17, I was five years out of playing baseball because I couldn't hit anything over 50 mph.
Fifteen years later, I can run and touch the rim(eventually, I'd like to dunk the ball), I have a black belt, and I can hit a 90 mph fastball, and regularly. I also never acted in high school or college, yet ended up being a trained actor and director(Which is a sweet middle finger to the teacher that wouldn't put me in her acting class at Lee University because she thought I had no chance to succeed)
I'm admittedly tooting my own horn, but not for my own benefit. This is to show people that anything is possible. That's not saying that anyone that wants to start playing chess will be a guaranteed grandmaster, or that someone that starts piano is going to be at Carnegie Hall.
It just means that you can get as good at anything as your efforts take you. Watch any morbidly obese person that loses all that weight and ends up in marathons. Those stories are all over the internet.
So what are you waiting for? You aren't in a box yet, so go for it!
Life's too short to be mundane!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Goodbye Dad
On March 6th, 2010, the patriarch of our family died.
It did take a while to really see this coming, although he was 82 years old. One minute, I'm working on my acting career, and also working as a suit salesman to supplement the income(Hell on earth story for another time), and the next the whole family is coming to grips with the whole situation. It all came in a blink of an eye.
It was February 28th. The night before, I was working on "The Graduate", a local stage play in Atlanta. I had become really really sick right in between acts, and was very feverish. I did survive the performance and went home. A phone call would come at 9 AM.
It was Mom. Dad had a fall at 5 AM that morning.
Now this was normally not a cause for concern, even at his age. The man was tougher than alligator skin, and he'd survived falls that would kill or incapacitate men 20-30 years younger. He'd never even broken a bone.
But this was different. While he did get up once again, and walked to his room, and got dressed, he was also in the hospital this time. Mom said she'd call back soon. While I was waiting for that call, I started packing up before she even told my brother and I to come home. Sometimes you just know.
People that know me hear me talk about how wimpy men have become, and how media makes men look emasculated, wimpy, and totally incapable of taking charge whatsoever. Having a Dad like Monte Christner makes you do that. Good looking guy(Hollywood good looks to boot), successful businessman(contractor for over 50 years), and as mentioned, tougher than boot leather. The man flat out took charge, and would not take shit from anyone. When I was a kid, watching TV Dads made me wretch because I knew how unrealistic they were. I had the real deal.
Mom called and said we had to come home. The doctor had originally given Dad five hours to live after he had a seizure. What was worse was that my brother and I had a 14 hour drive, and it would be a two day trip for both my brother and I(he and his wife had a toddler to deal with, and I was sicker than a dog). We'd call home by the hour, and Dad was still around each hour. All of us should've known better about him.
As I drove home, I started to think about life with him. About all the Saturday mornings we spent together, about the Sundays watching the Chicago Bears, Boston Celtics(I was a HUGE Larry Bird fan), and Chicago Cubs, about the times I rode on his shoulders as a little munchkin of four years old, and about the times he'd simply watch me play tennis on the garage door, or shoot hoops, and smile. While I was getting sicker and sicker in the hotel room, I was reminded of all the times he'd say "YOU'RE TOUGH, YOU CAN TAKE IT!"(Those would make for some comical faces when I would fall down and scrape my knee and I'd try to hold back the tears in front of him. I so wanted to be tough for him) while I'm throwing up and getting dizzy. I don't care what the kum by yas want to say about pushing kids. There was nothing that was more motivating than hearing that guy's voice telling you to tough it out, and push harder, and I heard it more than ever as I could barely stay on my feet.
I wake up the next day and drive on home. Mom said he was still around, which really shouldn't have been a surprise. You really couldn't tell him what to do. He was never conventional.
I get to the hospital at 2 PM Central time and there he was, laying there with an oxygen mask. Surprisingly, he was still lucid and was very surprised I made it home(he knew I was sick from a couple days before). My brother would make it shortly after I did, and that meant the whole family was around him now.
Remember when I brought up that my Dad had five hours to live? Yeah, that didn't happen. We got there on a Monday, and on Tuesday he recovered enough to sit up and play with my then two year old nephew, and even blew him a kiss, which I believe was his goodbye to everyone(Great as a father as he was, he never showed that kind of affection.....just wasn't him). After Tuesday, he really wouldn't be that lucid again.
Wednesday, he was taken off of fluids. It was thought his kidneys would fail, and he'd drift. Didn't happen. Thursday, they took away the heart monitor. Didn't even matter(at that point, his heart was beating at 150 beats a minute, and his core body temperature probably equaled a volcano). Between Friday and Saturday, they took the oxygen away, and we all thought that was the end. Again, we should have known better. I remembered that, on Tuesday, he told my mother that he wanted to go home. Since none of us knew how he would recover, or if we would, that was kind of out of the question at that time. Now, as he always did, he made his rules. He was going to go home to die, hell or high water.
I was home when I got the call. Mom said we're taking Dad home, and to get the barroom ready. As I'm getting the furniture moved, and things cleaned up, I remembered another time he was going to have things his way, hell or high water, and it involved me.
At my high school, our football coach was also our gym teacher, and he didn't like me at all for whatever reason(in fact, I don't think he liked anyone that didn't play for his 1 win football teams year after year). Anyway, there was an incident in gym class where I am messing around with another student. He said a stupid joke and I went "haw haw yank yank" in the way most teenagers would do that. The teacher would proceed to accuse me of sexually harassing the girls next to me, even though they never turned around, and didn't even know what I did. He'd send me to the office. Knowing that I was in the right, I thought I'd be out of there in a hurry.
What I forgot was that they were cracking down on sexual harassment, legit ones or not, and that the dean was a woman. They completely listened to the story and sent me to ISS. The Dean told me to call my mother and tell her what happened.
Considering it was about 11:00, and Dad would be in the office, the answer to that was "YEAH RIGHT". I'd call him.
Needless to say, I told him what happened, and since he knew that wasn't my personality, he would proceed to rip them completely apart on the phone. After that, he'd hang up and go to the school board and pick up the rules, then go to the office and ask them how this constituted sexual harassment.
"Ummm, sir"
"WHERE DOES THIS SAY SEXUAL HARASSMENT?!"
"Well sir, he's a troublemaker"
"IF HE'S A TROUBLEMAKER, THEN I'LL HANDLE IT! WHERE DOES THIS SAY SEXUAL HARASSMENT?!"
Needless to say, I was out of ISS in 20 minutes. The coach would be gone next year.
Thinking of that, it just made sense that Monte Christner was going to go home to die, instead of wasting away in the hospital. He was a relentless fighter all of his life, and there wasn't a thing you could ever make him do if he didn't want to do it. He wanted to go home to the house he built, paid for, raised kids in, and at the end, would semi-retire in with no regrets.
My brother and I would finish the room, then look through old pictures and old memorabilia from over the years. It was all there. All the accolades from his masonic years(He was a 32nd degree, and 60 year, Mason), memories from high school football and wrestling, and all his pictures from his youth(including one where he looked like a young Harry Truman at 13 years old). He truly did it all, but at the same time, he stayed so young because he looked forward, and never back. You never heard an Al Bundy "Four touchdowns in a football game" stories out of him. His best success was always his next success.
Dad would make it home, although the ambulance was breaking speed records to get him home before he'd pass. Considering how long he'd survive, I was 90% sure he'd make it home. He was going to do things his way. Anyway, he made it and they rolled the bed in the barroom he built. Mom told him that he was home and that he could relax. The hospice nurse(a guy I actually went to school with) brought his thirty-some year old radio out there and turned it to his favorite station. Long story short, they did this at 3:30 PM, and by 7:30, Dad passed away. He completely relaxed once he got home, and he went peacefully.
In the hospital, my brother picked a time to play "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. It was incredibly appropriate for this man, and when he was being rolled out for the last time, I played it too. I looked at him and realized something....Monte Christner did it all his way, from the beginning all the way to laying at home for the final time.
Jake McClain's going to be out in the public eye now, but there will always be Jacob Christner. There will always be those times walking with Dad on another job site, or watching Sunday basketball, or even simply doing yard work. There will always be the kid that turned his father into a modern day hero, someone who could do no wrong in his eyes. There will always be the family man who still has his brother, his Mom, his sister in law, and his three year old nephew. That will never ever change.
But Dad went 82 years, did it all his way, and had no regrets. Now it's my turn. I'm more focused than ever, and I will go full blast into where I want to go. I'm not a office guy, and I'm not a 9-5 guy. I don't like conventional, and I'm not into what the world thinks is normal. I believe bigger things are headed my way. Just like my father once told me about two years ago......."I trained you to be a STAR", and then smiled.
Goodbye Dad. Rest in peace.
You earned it.
It did take a while to really see this coming, although he was 82 years old. One minute, I'm working on my acting career, and also working as a suit salesman to supplement the income(Hell on earth story for another time), and the next the whole family is coming to grips with the whole situation. It all came in a blink of an eye.
It was February 28th. The night before, I was working on "The Graduate", a local stage play in Atlanta. I had become really really sick right in between acts, and was very feverish. I did survive the performance and went home. A phone call would come at 9 AM.
It was Mom. Dad had a fall at 5 AM that morning.
Now this was normally not a cause for concern, even at his age. The man was tougher than alligator skin, and he'd survived falls that would kill or incapacitate men 20-30 years younger. He'd never even broken a bone.
But this was different. While he did get up once again, and walked to his room, and got dressed, he was also in the hospital this time. Mom said she'd call back soon. While I was waiting for that call, I started packing up before she even told my brother and I to come home. Sometimes you just know.
People that know me hear me talk about how wimpy men have become, and how media makes men look emasculated, wimpy, and totally incapable of taking charge whatsoever. Having a Dad like Monte Christner makes you do that. Good looking guy(Hollywood good looks to boot), successful businessman(contractor for over 50 years), and as mentioned, tougher than boot leather. The man flat out took charge, and would not take shit from anyone. When I was a kid, watching TV Dads made me wretch because I knew how unrealistic they were. I had the real deal.
Mom called and said we had to come home. The doctor had originally given Dad five hours to live after he had a seizure. What was worse was that my brother and I had a 14 hour drive, and it would be a two day trip for both my brother and I(he and his wife had a toddler to deal with, and I was sicker than a dog). We'd call home by the hour, and Dad was still around each hour. All of us should've known better about him.
As I drove home, I started to think about life with him. About all the Saturday mornings we spent together, about the Sundays watching the Chicago Bears, Boston Celtics(I was a HUGE Larry Bird fan), and Chicago Cubs, about the times I rode on his shoulders as a little munchkin of four years old, and about the times he'd simply watch me play tennis on the garage door, or shoot hoops, and smile. While I was getting sicker and sicker in the hotel room, I was reminded of all the times he'd say "YOU'RE TOUGH, YOU CAN TAKE IT!"(Those would make for some comical faces when I would fall down and scrape my knee and I'd try to hold back the tears in front of him. I so wanted to be tough for him) while I'm throwing up and getting dizzy. I don't care what the kum by yas want to say about pushing kids. There was nothing that was more motivating than hearing that guy's voice telling you to tough it out, and push harder, and I heard it more than ever as I could barely stay on my feet.
I wake up the next day and drive on home. Mom said he was still around, which really shouldn't have been a surprise. You really couldn't tell him what to do. He was never conventional.
I get to the hospital at 2 PM Central time and there he was, laying there with an oxygen mask. Surprisingly, he was still lucid and was very surprised I made it home(he knew I was sick from a couple days before). My brother would make it shortly after I did, and that meant the whole family was around him now.
Remember when I brought up that my Dad had five hours to live? Yeah, that didn't happen. We got there on a Monday, and on Tuesday he recovered enough to sit up and play with my then two year old nephew, and even blew him a kiss, which I believe was his goodbye to everyone(Great as a father as he was, he never showed that kind of affection.....just wasn't him). After Tuesday, he really wouldn't be that lucid again.
Wednesday, he was taken off of fluids. It was thought his kidneys would fail, and he'd drift. Didn't happen. Thursday, they took away the heart monitor. Didn't even matter(at that point, his heart was beating at 150 beats a minute, and his core body temperature probably equaled a volcano). Between Friday and Saturday, they took the oxygen away, and we all thought that was the end. Again, we should have known better. I remembered that, on Tuesday, he told my mother that he wanted to go home. Since none of us knew how he would recover, or if we would, that was kind of out of the question at that time. Now, as he always did, he made his rules. He was going to go home to die, hell or high water.
I was home when I got the call. Mom said we're taking Dad home, and to get the barroom ready. As I'm getting the furniture moved, and things cleaned up, I remembered another time he was going to have things his way, hell or high water, and it involved me.
At my high school, our football coach was also our gym teacher, and he didn't like me at all for whatever reason(in fact, I don't think he liked anyone that didn't play for his 1 win football teams year after year). Anyway, there was an incident in gym class where I am messing around with another student. He said a stupid joke and I went "haw haw yank yank" in the way most teenagers would do that. The teacher would proceed to accuse me of sexually harassing the girls next to me, even though they never turned around, and didn't even know what I did. He'd send me to the office. Knowing that I was in the right, I thought I'd be out of there in a hurry.
What I forgot was that they were cracking down on sexual harassment, legit ones or not, and that the dean was a woman. They completely listened to the story and sent me to ISS. The Dean told me to call my mother and tell her what happened.
Considering it was about 11:00, and Dad would be in the office, the answer to that was "YEAH RIGHT". I'd call him.
Needless to say, I told him what happened, and since he knew that wasn't my personality, he would proceed to rip them completely apart on the phone. After that, he'd hang up and go to the school board and pick up the rules, then go to the office and ask them how this constituted sexual harassment.
"Ummm, sir"
"WHERE DOES THIS SAY SEXUAL HARASSMENT?!"
"Well sir, he's a troublemaker"
"IF HE'S A TROUBLEMAKER, THEN I'LL HANDLE IT! WHERE DOES THIS SAY SEXUAL HARASSMENT?!"
Needless to say, I was out of ISS in 20 minutes. The coach would be gone next year.
Thinking of that, it just made sense that Monte Christner was going to go home to die, instead of wasting away in the hospital. He was a relentless fighter all of his life, and there wasn't a thing you could ever make him do if he didn't want to do it. He wanted to go home to the house he built, paid for, raised kids in, and at the end, would semi-retire in with no regrets.
My brother and I would finish the room, then look through old pictures and old memorabilia from over the years. It was all there. All the accolades from his masonic years(He was a 32nd degree, and 60 year, Mason), memories from high school football and wrestling, and all his pictures from his youth(including one where he looked like a young Harry Truman at 13 years old). He truly did it all, but at the same time, he stayed so young because he looked forward, and never back. You never heard an Al Bundy "Four touchdowns in a football game" stories out of him. His best success was always his next success.
Dad would make it home, although the ambulance was breaking speed records to get him home before he'd pass. Considering how long he'd survive, I was 90% sure he'd make it home. He was going to do things his way. Anyway, he made it and they rolled the bed in the barroom he built. Mom told him that he was home and that he could relax. The hospice nurse(a guy I actually went to school with) brought his thirty-some year old radio out there and turned it to his favorite station. Long story short, they did this at 3:30 PM, and by 7:30, Dad passed away. He completely relaxed once he got home, and he went peacefully.
In the hospital, my brother picked a time to play "My Way" by Frank Sinatra. It was incredibly appropriate for this man, and when he was being rolled out for the last time, I played it too. I looked at him and realized something....Monte Christner did it all his way, from the beginning all the way to laying at home for the final time.
Jake McClain's going to be out in the public eye now, but there will always be Jacob Christner. There will always be those times walking with Dad on another job site, or watching Sunday basketball, or even simply doing yard work. There will always be the kid that turned his father into a modern day hero, someone who could do no wrong in his eyes. There will always be the family man who still has his brother, his Mom, his sister in law, and his three year old nephew. That will never ever change.
But Dad went 82 years, did it all his way, and had no regrets. Now it's my turn. I'm more focused than ever, and I will go full blast into where I want to go. I'm not a office guy, and I'm not a 9-5 guy. I don't like conventional, and I'm not into what the world thinks is normal. I believe bigger things are headed my way. Just like my father once told me about two years ago......."I trained you to be a STAR", and then smiled.
Goodbye Dad. Rest in peace.
You earned it.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Why society hates winners
You know it's true.
Society hates winners, they really do. Peyton Manning comes around, and he's overrated all of a sudden. He's called a choker and overhyped, even though he already has over 50,000 yards, and a Super Bowl ring.
Tom Brady's supposedly overrated too, and people accuse him of paying off referees.
In the 90s, the Bulls were the most hated team around. Six titles will do that.
Why do people hate winners so much? Simple. Most hate winners because they've never been one themselves. They've never had the fire and will to take it to the next level. They'd rather work a 40 hour job instead of taking that chance in life that winners end up taking.
And I'm not talking about WINNING, I'm talking WINNERS!
Winners don't hang with losers. An article in ESPN, before the Super Bowl, talked about how Peyton Manning doesn't hang with riff-raff. His friends are bankers, lawyers, doctors.....highly motivated individuals. He doesn't hang with the woe is me crowd.
Winners don't listen to naysayers. Danny DeVito had something like 72 auditions before getting a small speaking role. People said he was too short, and he wouldn't make it in the business. Arnold Schwarzenegger was told to change his last name and his accent.....people wouldn't accept him. Reginald VelJohnson(Carl from the Wonder Years) was living in his Mom's basement till he was 35, receiving the scorn of his family for not having a "real job".
The irony is funny though. People hate winners, and they supposedly love the underdog, but no matter where you find the underdog, it makes no money and it does no ratings. Look at any sport, any movie, any TV show, anything out there. The money is in the hate of the winner, not in the success of the underdog.
I just have one thing to say to these people. How about TRYING to be a winner yourself. How about TRY being a Peyton Manning or Tom Brady instead of hating them. That doesn't mean try being a QB, it just means try being the absolute best at what you do.
Wanna know what makes Tom Brady and Peyton Manning the best? It's not natural talent, or the successful sperm club(or cheating, like Brady haters will bring out). Both of those guys flat hate to lose. They are in the film rooms for hours, they are the first on the field and last off of it, they work harder in the weight room than most people do, and they give it their all in every single aspect.
Those two are just examples. I can bring out ten other names of winners, and the comparisons are the same. They just want it more than other people do, and they are willing to go the extra mile.
It's just jealousy. No reason for it, but it's jealousy.
Time to give that up folks. Time to be a winner yourselves, and that includes your attitude.
Because if not, you'll continue to hate, and that's one horrible way to live.
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