Restart My Blart

There are so many things going on that I want to write about, things I can’t quite get all aligned and assigned in my head to get out through my hands. The past 6 months have been intense, busy, good, and fun, for the most part. Youth sports, work, product development, family, stress, illnesses, deaths… so, Life, basically.

We’re here in February (Feb-ya-wair-ee) already and sooner or later I should post something or get rid of this site. So I’ll get into the flow again soon and write. My attitude towards all of this has changed a lot because of social media and how I (mis)perceive other people’s perceptions of me. I have some outrage because I have been paying attention, to reword that bumper sticker I haven’t seen in a while. The other bumper sticker that makes me angry is the “STUDENT DRIVER – PLEASE BE PATIENT.” Oh gawd, come on. Student Driver in TESLA, eat farts. I had to learn in a 5-speed Datsun KingCab pickup truck, NO STICKER. Coddling the youth, yes, let’s continue… I think some people are just bad drivers and pasted a sticker on to throw people off the trail of their inability to navigate the roads.

ANYway, I have a lot more to get off my hands in the near future, but I’ll leave with this; if you have any sort of feelings about Education, Youth Sports, or Wanting To Throw Hatchets Into The Halls of Congress, stay tuned! Should be a good year!

Stay weird.

February 7, 2023 0

Stage Coaching

I got into coaching for the same reason a lot of parents do; because no one else would. I like sports, grew up playing them, did multiples (soccer, baseball, basketball, football, track & field) and even competed in college. I had great coaches, and I had some who were great examples of how not to coach. Now, as I volunteer as a coach on my kid’s teams I am always looking for ways to simplify a sport’s tasks for the kids so that they understand, improve, gain confidence, and most importantly, don’t embarrass their parents when they get in the game.

I had to learn how to coach, and that’s where I harkened back to the days of old and found some incredible stuff on YouTube. Right now I’m coaching 2 sports and one of them is soccer for a boys team, ages 10-12. Some kids are taking it as an opportunity to compete and improve. Some are outside and active and that’s enough for their parents to have paid >$150 to get on a team. And some have almost no idea why they’re out there. So I’m using a lot of various tactics to keep these kids interested and wanting to play. I’m not a great soccer coach, but with a bit more lead-up time this season might be going a bit more smoothly. The league I’m coaching in does the bare minimum for their coaches. I’m not alluding to a need for any sort of payment, but any organization should make it as easy as possible for their volunteers to want to coach and do so sober.

As can happen at any level and in any sport there was a near meltdown of all fundamentals in last night’s match. Even as we walked off with a 7-0 loss, I know it could have been worse. 5 games into the season the team looked like it was their first day on the pitch together as they played way out of position, crowded the ball, stole from each other, dribbled ahead of their speed, and had some of the worst attitudes they had displayed all season. Some of the most vocal griping about their positions or their teammates came from kids who performed the worst. This is an opportunity for me as their coach to address and correct it by reminding them of all the things they’ve done wrong for the past 8 weeks. Or ask them how they would correct it and guide from there. We have 2 games and no practices remaining so I guess we’ll see…

There’s a fine line in coaching kids that must be walked – on one side is “What the kid thinks they can do” and the other side is “Where their skills fit best.” Sometimes it’s a thin line, sometimes it’s a gaping, impassable maw of genetic reality. Coaching happens where you create scenarios for the kid to bridge or narrow that gap and gain confidence. As seen above, a lot of kids, in their minds, are ready for a shoe endorsement and developmental contract with their favorite team. In actuality…

As a parent with a kid on the team I want my kid to be having fun out there, but also competing. Not just “getting a win,” but learning that Intentional Effort leads to good outcomes. I can always tell a player what they need to work on to get better, but it’s up to their parents to remind them to go work on it 5 times before the kid decides they want to. YouTube is an under-utilized coaching tool, frankly. A simple search for “Basic Soccer Dribbling Skills” will get your kid, or you, a very solid foundation of the most basic skill in soccer. So I often send out links to kids and parents for them to check out. Then when they show up on the field I can ask “What did you get from the videos I sent your parents?” and they can say “You did?” and I can say “Ah, okay, I see now. Why are you wearing sandals to soccer?”

So it all goes in phases, sometimes every time out, to see who is ready to play, and who is just killing time before dinner. There will come a time in a sport where the kids get cut or don’t play enough or it’s far more serious and has a lot more implications than where these guys are at. The best you can do as a parent is to support your kid’s efforts, encourage goal setting, and remind them that good things come to those who work. Doing 5 minutes of focused skill work every day – since most leagues limit practice to 2 sessions or 2 hours a week – will help their coach not start replies to requests for playing time with “Seriously?”

May 14, 2021 0

The Brain Game

I have low-level, high-function (when I want to be) form of ADD. It’s been there most of my life, and when I look back on my years in school where I was taxing my physiological resources just to maintain a 3.0, I think I could have done more, or better, had I known – or accepted – that I had something different happening. The more I learn about how our brains work, the more I realize that ADD is not taboo or a sentence to a muddled, unfinished life.

tumblr_kqumrr0YW41qzpwi0o1_500 — *Accused of being a “Grammar Nazi,” I simply detest lazy writing, but I am in no way “anti-Semantic.”*

Here’s kind of what it’s like to have ADD when I’m not feeling great:

I recently lost an argument with my wife, which took place ENTIRELY IN MY HEAD. I didn’t want to go to a certain place for a home project, but I knew she’d want to, and every time I thought up a reason why we should NOT go, her voice kicked back why it was better to go there. I just agreed and, outloud, said “Fine, fine, we’ll do it your way.” I WAS ALONE IN THE KITCHEN AT 6:45AM, WAITING FOR COFFEE TO BREW.
I started to empty the dishwasher, which I hate doing but wanted to “get something done.” The top rack was a mish-mash of cups and smaller plates, and… plastic dishes with no tops. There were no tops in the dishwasher. And my brain put the brakes on, and started figuring out ways to wiggle out of this. “I can’t do THIS. There are no tops. I’ll have to dig through the cabinet for tops. Who the hell is using these as dishes? We have perfectly good dishes. We have small bowls. What if there are no tops for these, like we got them from somebody else? Who did we get these from? Was I there? Are these from a kid’s friend’s house? What play-date did they go on?”

That’s how an ADD brain works. Sometimes the smallest thing causes my Professional Crastination skills to fire up. I’m a ProCrastinator. When a task seems “too big,” I pump the brakes. I pretend, sometimes, that I’m “planning” or getting notes together to do it right. But we all know that you can’t eat an elephant in one bite. You have to own a national sandwich shop and have the money from that pay for your big-game excursion to hunt and kill it!

I heard about Dr. Robert Cooper, Ph. D. on a podcast a while ago, Bulletproof Radio with Dave Asprey. Dr. Cooper’s a neuroscientist who has studied not only How our minds work, but Why they do what they do. His insight into the natural programming of our brain’s commands (Find something that works, stick with it, avoid change so we don’t falter or die, etc.) and how to change (i.e. UpWire or “hack”) the command center via Conscious Awareness has changed a lot for my own life. I highly recommend his podcasts for insights for everybody’s better understanding of how our minds work, and how to be conscious of little things that could hinder our Best Selves.

Eventually I’ll have something pretty funny to enter here. I hope. Right now my comedy brain is inundated with some new material about our upcoming elections, voting, and using drugs. Pretty sure one thing leads to another there.

Please leave any comments or tips you have for getting focused for Life stuff. I know sleeping enough, getting some exercise, and eating well are three main components. What else? High-grade fish oils? The will to see your enemies drown in the wake of your success? Whatever’s good…

And as always, my deepest thanks for reading.

May 23, 2016 0

Are You Too Good of a Parent?

I have a term in my vocabulary for people who do little else than bupple-up negative stuff from around the world, things that perhaps aren’t in the brightest of lights, and they feel you really need to understand how this is hurting ~~you~~ them. The term is “ShamePolice.” These are people who were likely the kid in grade school raising their hand on a Friday afternoon to remind the teacher of that homework assignment she mentioned before recess. This is the person who drives 61 in the passing lane, because that ought to be “fast enough.”

Don’t let them pull you over, because if you do, it validates the life-time they ~~shit into the gaping abyss of their self-importance~~ spent discussing ideas and articles about it. And if nothing else, Misery loves Company. That being said, “philosophers” Adam Swift and Harry Brighouse are two of the biggest fucktard ShamePolice officers I’ve ever come across, and I have unlimited internet access. They call themselves philosophers because “part-time thinker, part-time Sandwich Artist” wouldn’t fit on their pocket protectors (unconfirmed).

In their “study” of familial structure, parental involvement, and nurturing a child’s life, they theorize that parents who are involved in their kid’s lives in thoughtful, loving, nurturing ways that are aimed at creating an environment in which to Parent a well-rounded, empathic, intelligent, world-friendly citizen are creating an “unfair disadvantage” in society. To whom is this an “unfair disadvantage?”

“‘What we realised we needed was a way of thinking about what it was we wanted to allow parents to do for their children, and what it was that we didn’t need to allow parents to do for their children, if allowing those activities would create unfairnesses for other people’s children’.”

To kids and families and parents who are NOT taking steps to create similar environments and/or children. The “advantaged” families are creating an “unlevel playing field” against kids who are NOT being nurtured.

I just pooped the OUTSIDE of my pants.
The article states, and I’m paraphrasing, that reading to your kids before bed is a stronger foundation builder than the ability to send the child to an elite private school. Bonding with the kids in any way possible, therefore, is more valuable than an education that may get a “ooh wooow!” from external people. If you’re kid loves to read about dinosaurs, and you’re building that interest with reading and movies and play, you’re way better off than the parent who ships the kid off to study geology and biology and natural selection.

I have the softest, tear-filled place in my soul for kids who are neglected in any way whatsoever. I can barely look at the words of a link about babies being left alone for 9 hours while “dad” played FarmSubsidy on facebook. I have met, coached, and played with kids who aren’t from the best family situations, and they have all been the first-in for a big hug or high-five when it’s time to go. Kids need attention from people who care.

This also assumes that children who aren’t read-to or aren’t in elite schools are being victimized by those who are. It starts at home, period. If a parent says their loud, rude, whiny 6 year-old is “just being 6”, I’m going to assume they are a shitty parent who doesn’t understand the term “Product of Environment.”

But this is what philosophers do, after all. They THINK about stuff, and imagine what it would be like if… Hypothesize Me! And this study brought forth just the most ridiculous aspect of how to raise, nurture, discipline, and foster the growth of a child into, at the least, a decent member of society.

And then there’s me, making my Citizen’s Citations against the ShamePolice. I should be above it, but I care too much about raising kids to see this horse-S and keep my fingers still.
“Do not train a child to learn by force or harshness; but direct them to it by what amuses their minds, so that you may be better able to discover with accuracy the peculiar bent of the genius of each.” – Plato

May 7, 2015 0

The Gig Files – No Mic

If y’all like this post, let me know in the comments or the LIKES! or send me a basket of gluten-free brownies shaped like Jessica Biel or Diane Lane (whatever your local bakery will do for you based on their politics). “The Gig Files” will be recaps of shows I recently did from the perspective of the performer. Yelp seems to be a sounding board for everybody’s gripes and very few KUDOS! which is too bad. Then again, I think people want to complain, and a bad dining/entertainment/hash oil-making-via-Groupon experience seems to resonate more than a great one. I’ve had so many dine-outs that could have been ruined because of something small that I just brush it off now. Same thing with gigs; it’s been a while since I had 3 in a row like these…

NO MIC
Saturday night show, crappy sportsbar/roadhouse about an hour North of Seattle. I’ve done 8 shows there and I’ve been happy with 4 of them. 2 were complete failures (back when I was about a year into comedy), 2 were “meh,” and this particular gig I actually rate under the Happy-Withs.

I brought a newer comic along as an opener, dude’s very funny, and is much more slowly-paced than I am. That’s good because I won’t have to really go all-out to get the crowd to pay attention. The bar holds about 80 people, speakers way up in the rafters, and you have to be eating the mic to be heard. I have no idea what the transfer rate of lip-herpes via shared mics is among comedians, but it’s gotta be higher than, say, motivational speakers.

15minutes into my 45minute set, the mic stops working. Cuts out. Dead. I wiggle the cable a bit, it comes back. Then blacks out. Then it’s back. 2minutes later it dies again. Staff kinda works on it, but then it dies again. Dead. Done. DOS(tage). And then they tell me, “Sorry. It did that the last couple shows, too.” Oh, okay then. Happy I’m not the WHAT?

So I shouted the rest of my set into the air. And it was work. I felt like I had to project even more, and subtlety was out the window without being able to whisper.

And it was in those 30-something, unplugged minutes I really felt like, hey, I’m gonna make this a great show for the people who are here. Nobody left, and it wasn’t THEIR fault the mic cut out, so it won’t be MY fault if the show sucks. I was friggin’ exhausted afterwards. It went fine. But honestly, that kinda sucked.

April 21, 2015 0

Death With Dignity, Instead of What Some People Deserve

Brittany Maynard recently ended her life at the age of 29, having battled aggressive brain tumors for years. As the tumors caused greater and more painful moments of being awake, and were found to be inoperable and terminal, Brittany called her own exit. The story has been well chronicled so I won’t cover it again here. However, a few years ago, this topic arose in Washington State, and it set my mind off into many different, somewhat dark regions. Having grievously watched my dad’s slow decline to a shell of a man from 2004-2009 due to dementia, the impact and effects on my family and his friends, I really began to wonder what I would do if my health came to a similar state.

The Death with Dignity act, or “physician-assisted suicide,” is available to people who have a terminal illness, incurable & excruciating pain, or have been talked into it by some family members. There’s a review process after applying to a few doctors, findable via Google and maybe Yelp? The applicant goes through a fair amount of testing to see what’s going on, and to make sure they’re not trying to get out of jury duty. Plus there’s the “less than 6 months to live” criteria. Seems subjective, but whatever…

So in all of this involvement of doctors and pharmacists and party planning and “affairs in order” and what-not, comes two main points I think must be addressed.

Is It Wrong? This is, by nature, a judgmental and personal-ethics statement within each person’s answer. Is choosing your own biological death’s date, based on a terrible illness, via the quiet undertow of a massive barbituate dosing, more acceptable than other forms of ending one’s life? Or is it in the days preceding your passing that keep it on the “light side,” being able to say Goodbye and take care of all the particulars and throw a party and cut the line at Starbucks every morning, Bucket List items and what-not?
What If It Doesn’t Work? You’ve said your “good-byes”, or “go F yourself”‘s, whatever the case called for. Your belongings are accounted for, donated, burned, repurposed, etc. And you gulp down the pills that are going to drop your blood-pressure to NIL, shut down your brain’s ability to fire off your heart muscles, and you’ll drift into the Great Other. Until BAMMO you wake up again barfing all over your Red & Gold Satin Burial robe, wondering why Heaven would welcome home a lost angel in such a horrific fashion, or maybe this isn’t Heaven, OH NO, IT’S WORSE… It’s your living room.
THEN what? I’d have a quick call to the prescribing doctor and see what the deal is. But at least you could start calling friends a few days later and freak them out. Your number comes up on their phone in the middle of their brunch, EEEEEE, creepy for them, FUN FOR YOOOU!

In a time when a fair number of people choose this route I wonder how much Brittany’s beauty played into it. Seriously, a young, beautiful person (by most standards) with a tragic illness chooses to die a few days after her husband’s birthday, and it’s national news for quite a while. What about the 78 year-old with colon cancer and carry-on colostomy bag, where’s their press?

I’m all-for the controlled slide to the Afterlife if your health is failing and you wake up to a painful existence every day. Sure, there might be a cure around the corner. There might be a pharmaceutical lottery win with your name on it. Or a natural cure right in your own back yard that somebody finds the day after you pass. But you should call your own shot if your body is taken over by cancer-caused agony. Can you be a role model of strength and endurance to those around you? For how long? Would you call a “deadline” (ha ha) to it, and if you’re not better by that date, Drop the Beats, DJ, this party’s starting?

In case you can’t go the quiet Rx route, involving doctors and lawmakers and news pundits, give me a call. I have access to a human catapult and some moonshine, we’ll go out like a hero in the parking lot of your workplace. As long as your insurance covers 80%.

November 11, 2014 0

Staph Meeting: The Small Bug That Bites Big

About 2 months ago I hit the busiest period of my life in the past 2 years. Work was humming along, coaching teeball one night a week (not for the money) working out 3 days a week, and preparing to move to a new home/sell a home/argue about moving and packing. Bizz. Eee. I wasn’t sleeping much but felt fine. I was eating healthy and not over-doin’ it with booze. OK, I suppose “over-doin’ ” is subjective, but for my standards, I was FINE, OK, I was fine…

Then I got hit with a bastard of a staph infection on my thigh. I think I got it from the mats at the gym, though I usually wipe ’em down before stretching on them.n I’ll never use mats again. The smallest cut and a latent response to the bugs and next thing I knew, a cyst the size of half a golfball was growing on my outer thigh. The part where you sit down and it hits a chair. Or you stand up and your pocketed-phone bumps the side of it. The area where you nudge it and cry a little. I couldn’t think of it without wincing.

After about 5 days from “implantation” to “it has a heartbeat,” I had a doc take a look at it. I thought it was MRSA due to my medical training (Thanks WebMD.com!) but it wasn’t. It was the non-MR staph aureus, which bode well for me. It was also a nice little scar about the size of a penny to remind me to not F around with that stuff.

Fast forward to 2 weeks ago; final weekend of moving into the new house. 90deg-F, in and out of trucks, sweating like a training montage in a 1980’s martial arts film. And I get the smallest cut on my back from whatever. 24 hours later, IT’S BACK. The warm, infectious feeling of spreading staph! Now, I thought MAYBE it was an ingrown hair and begged my wife to hot compress it and break out the big safety pin and go to work. NOPE. Too gross for her. Too much to ask. And in hindsight that could have spread the bug much further into my system.

The next day I’m begging to see the dermatologist because my other doc was a little too happy to dig in with a knife. The area on my back spread from a Quarter-sized area of heat and pain to about the size of an adult hand, tucked under my skin. And it hurt like somebody was pressing an iron into my back, but with a lovely little Vesuvius right there in the middle, a grotesque Ground Zero of bacterial bombardment. It had moved from a red to a deep purple spot about 1/4″ across, which was not a bruise. Instead, it’s necrosis; the bacteria and eaten and killed everything in that are and moved on.

My dermatologist took one look and said “OK… well… how much time do you have this morning?” 10min later, laying face-down on the table and lidocaine injected into the infected area. A slice, a push, and doc says “Yeah, this was getting bad. You had an abscess here that wasn’t gonna stop. We’re gonna drain this and see what we can do.”

That was 3 weeks ago now. I went through a round of Cephalexin to kill it. I had twice-daily “expressions” of the area to release any fluid built up under the left shoulder blade and in my back. I couldn’t sleep but in 1 position, and not even a fair dose of painkillers could lull it to rest. People used to die from this thing, and through the miracle of modern medicine, I have a quarter-sized hole in my back, packed with gauze, and draining only a slight amount of clear fluid and blood while it heals itself. My wife has become a field-nurse of heroic proportions. She saw my inner back-meat, and didn’t flinch.

The weird part of all this is… I had been telling myself, and been told by others, to gear-down. I had about 3 high-stress, low-sleep months where I powered through it and was ready to slow-down once we moved into the new house. Well, I did. I haven’t been to the gym for a serious lift in 4 weeks. I slept more. I drank less. My body revolted against my mind in order to preserve itself like a biologic Bastille Day; my body needed resources to stay healthy, which I was refusing it due to my own agenda. Your body seeks balance, HomeoStasis, a mid-point of reserve and expression. I guess this is part of getting older; shut-down for benefit, or be shut-down.

So hot-wash every bit of clothing, bedding, and toweling you have. Steam-clean the car seats. And remember that you should take it easy now and again. Life is not a sprint, nor a marathon. It’s a nice walk around town with a few stops for friends and meals and medically-approved THC-infused brownies.

September 5, 2014 0

CrowdFund Your Motivation

I’m still not sure if I like crowdfunding, the ability to ask friends or strangers for, and sometimes receive, financial backing for your pet projects. It’s not exactly on-line panhandling, but it’s not really fundraising. It IS, I mean, yeah, you’re raising funds for whatever it is you haven’t saved for, but do you really appreciate it and let it be YOUR baby? In this case, we’re talking fundage, financially, money. Mmkay?

Admittedly, I did use “GoFundMe.com” earlier this year to help a single mother get her car repaired. She had no money, was living in a church, and needed a new transmission in order to get her car running to get around for job interviews. The need was there, the means were there, so I cobbled together a few things and posted it and promoted it. We made our goal in a few days, and I can only thank the kind people who gave anywhere from $10 to $50 to $300. It was an inspiring influx of empathy and care, and very much appreciated. There’s always more to the story, of course…

Of course, like anything that goes online, it had its share of trolls asking why a transmission cost of $600-something (labor included) was the target, why she didn’t just get a better car, etc. By ignoring some of them or calling them out for being dipshits we were able to just focus on the goal. Don’t feed the trolls.

I’m not going to say this isn’t some sort of meta-trolling about the intent of using crowdfunding to fill a project’s financial gap. I’m not tearing a rotator cuff to pat myself on the butt for a job well done, either. Just stating what is possible when you present a need to people who want to help. It was really great to see it come together. Hell, what would YOU do with your pet project if you had another $1,043 laying around? Would you use it properly? Could you/I be THAT accountable? That’s why I wonder how much a person can appreciate the gifts they promote themselves to receive. Some people are making movies. Some people are trying to pay off medical bills. Who’s to say who’s right? The people with the money, that’s who’s.

The “more to the story” is that I had two situations where fundraising for a cause took very different turns. In one, I produced a comedy show to raise money for a family friend whose mom had been left with a mountain of medical bills after her husband passed away. I don’t know how much was raised, all I know is the place as packed with concerned friends and a lot of love. We did very well, and my friend’s mom was incredibly appreciative.
The other turn was that a person who I did something financially-beneficial for via fundraising really didn’t take advantage of the upturn. There was an option there to move ahead with what they had been asking for – and given, but they either moved at a glacial pace as to appear immobile, or just bided their time. Then kept hinting how they needed more of this, or didn’t have any of that. In a side-project we also provided a lot of resources to help them get back on their feet, but nothing in the form of straight-up cash. And pretty soon it seemd as if they’re just hoping to get more of something without putting out anything. As much as I want to see everybody doing better for themselves, I want to see people DOING, unless some sort of crippling disease has taken their ability to leave the house and interact with people or bring me homemade cookies and/or dark beers from around the world.

The Need exists for a little something more; schools, food banks, neighbors, drag show open mic nights, etc. People have needs that aren’t met because of – pick a reason. And if you can help meet their needs, do it. The 1% that made 95% of the income won’t. Our taxes aren’t going to make up for it. Gotta act locally.

Reminds me of a story my maternal grandfather told me. There was a bear who grew up near a campsite. Every Monday he would go to the dumpsters and pick through food and he grew strong and clever, but a little fatter than the other bears in the rivers eating salmon. One Monday morning a park ranger saw the bear and thought he may be a hazard, so he tried to scare him off. The bear didn’t understand the tactics; this was garbage, nobody wanted it, why can’t he have it? But the ranger didn’t want the bear coming into the park at other times, and didn’t understand the bear’s intent was simply to eat from a reliable source at a non-threatening time. In the end, the bear starved to death after getting his nose caught in a plastic holder from a 6-er of Miller tallboys.
The Lesson: You can always get garbage, the good stuff takes some effort, and park rangers are usually assholes.

October 30, 2013 0

Condo and Condon’t; What I’ve Learned As a Condo Association Board Member

… and how it pertains to real life.

You are part of a community, like it or not, big or small, populated or wooded, and you can either be a good part or a bad part.
Paying your dues to the association is part of being in the association’s budget so that your neighbor’s fence gets repaired with some of your money, and your backed-up sewer line gets fixed and your floors replaced with some of my money when the poop hits the Pergo.
Everybody wants a package of comfort that is packed with varying sizes of the same items: Security, Financial Stability, Quiet Hours, Nice Neighbors, Cleanliness, Rules.
Not everybody, in fact, most people, won’t do much to reinforce or model that behavior.
There is always, always, always a neighbor who everybody thinks is crazy and is probably legally crazy, but they always think everybody else is crazy.
I wish the people of the association were all doing so greatly that there were no issues financially or physically to deal with, but that will never ever be the case.
The amount of work to be done is inverse to the amount of money to pay for that work.
The priority of the work is perceived by whomever needs their walls to stop leaking.
The priority of the work is determined by whomever holds the checkbook.
Never never never ever buy a condominium older than 10 years.

July 19, 2013 0

American Microcosm: The Con-do Attitude

Condominium: (CON-doe-min-ee-um) n. From Latin for “domi” (home) and “con” (together). Also from English for “con-dom,” meaning a small space for an uncomfortable screwing.

I made a huge mistake years ago in buying a condo unit. Basically you get to own an apartment alongside people who want you to observe quiet hours and hate yardwork. And then you get to pay a fee to an association to take care of all the issues, which usually will be a backed-up main-out for the building’s sewer system or the damage from that not being caught in time.

I compounded my idiocy by agreeing to be on the Board of Directors for the Association, which is combined with a few apartment buildings for reasons nobody can figure out. Like many celebrity marriages, this coupling happened in the 1980’s probably around money and hidden agendas and has always been a lie about what’s really going on. The grouping of Condos and Apartments into one association is like having the Montagues and Capulets in the same roller rink. Sure, there’s rivalry and … No? Um… Hatfields and McCoys? Nothing, huh? Well we shouldn’t be linked the way we are into one association. And now I’m leading the effort to split the condos from the apartments to have a single association. New real estate rules, for most major lenders, state that they will not lend money for the purchase of a unit in an association that rents out >50% of its units. The apartments are 80 units, the condos are 50, so we’re over the 50% and can’t get lending for people who wanna sell. Refinancing is also rolled into this issue.

A few years ago when the market adjusted downwardly, which was actually a correction spurred by the predatory and Soul-committed-to-Hell lending practices of the fucking bank dicks. Can’t pay + foreclosures = Lowered property values w/high mortgages and APRs (Astronomic Percentage Rape). Again, people can’t get refinanced due the >50% rule. So we’re trying to get our own world established and help everybody along.

I then pulled together a Dipshit’s Double and agreed to a SECOND TERM on the Board to allow for consistency in the transition. It has been during this split that I have felt the most like a traditionally-defined American in my life.

I am part of the “government,” yet hate the way it’s being run and still have little power to change things.
Those who are not in the government dislike it and many believe it is poorly managed and has secrets.
Everybody has the answer to make a perfect nation. Nobody has any desire to put in any effort to see that world come to fruition. 2 hours a week is too much.
Every new person sees only what’s wrong and how to fix it. They speak before they ask.
Ex-patriates fling negative comments back over the border, and are usually met with some courtesy. Lately, however, I’ve taken to telling them how happy I am they are no longer part of the group. Get out. Stay out. Eat shit.
Everybody wants it to be better. We need far more money (taxes) and resources (workers) to make it better. Nobody wants to give any more money, because the money given in the past has been perceived to have been misspent. Still…
The perceived misspending has ended up in the form of repaired decks, fences, unit cleaning and restoration following sewer back-ups and water damage, and higher insurance claims due to all. A budget doesn’t dictate a course that needs corrections.
Everybody is more concerned with the impact of the Association’s operation within their own walls, while the Association cares mostly about making sure the walls are strong, quiet, and free of rodents and rot. What you do in your own hoarded filth is your business unless I can smell it.
Good fences make good neighbors. And when those neighbors invite friends over who don’t respect fences, the neighbors have to be told at 7am that their boyfriend’s 185-lb mastiff really should not be dropping plops on the sidewalk.
Nobody respects a financial fine without legal action. Give me a bill for $5 for “Lack of Communication,” I won’t pay it. Put a boot on my car with a $200 bill for having an ugly paintjob, I’ll pay it and then have to fight The Man about the $200 and who determines what “ugly” is.

Never buy a condo unless you’re over 45 and it is less than 10 years old.
If you care, serve on the board. It’s usually volunteer, but a great lesson in why people don’t volunteer. If you don’t, be helpful in your comments and feedback.
If you can’t say anything nice, at least be civil.
If you can’t be civil, eat shit.
Remember, always buy the nicest house on the crappiest block, or the near-crappiest house on the nicest block. Never buy the crappiest on the crappiest.

Ultimately we will end up splitting off and people can refi or sell. Lotta short sales coming. A few foreclosures, probably. Good time to buy a place. As long as it’s not a condo.

May 9, 2013 0

Tag: lessons