Connected

The allure of instant information is as addictive as any drug or drink I’ve ever taken. With a upward thumb swipe I can unlock my droid, press no more than two icons, and know more about the world quicker than it would take my grandparents to read an entire newspaper or watch the nightly news. I can also connect with like-minded people, that I swore didn’t exist when I was growing up, and alleviate the pressure of mental illness, being different, and intellectual loneliness (on certain issues and habits) in seconds. To call this sexy is way too weird so I’ll choose the word - attractive. But the downside is the people who are most important to me, my wife and three daughters, get gipped of their connection from me.

Sometimes I’m stupid. You’re shaking your head up and down and saying “yeah, dude, there’s 700 other posts on this blog that make that fact loud and clear.” But sometimes I’ve really really stupid away from this blog.

Last Saturday my wife, Deana, aka The Bobina, was specific in what she wanted for her birthday. Every year, I know how important the celebration of her birth is to her. She parties for at least a week and that’s okay. I love her self-confidence and bold display of Bobinaness. I’d give anything if I had her gumption and rock star attitude. She wanted to go eat our favorite food, sushi, then walk around a local mall, ostensibly to buy new clothes for her upcoming Florida vacation with a girlfriend. I don’t toss around the word hate a lot. But I HATE shopping. She knows this, but that’s what she wanted. She doesn’t like watching football games or listening to punk music. But when my birthday comes around September 10th (cash in lieu of gifts, please), she knows buzzing guitars, screaming vocals and games by the Jets and Falcons will be filling our house for 24 hours. Marriage is awesome like that, isn’t it? The problem was, I couldn’t deliver my end of the bargain because after dinner, while she tried on everything in the zillion square foot mall that is Sugarloaf Mills, I couldn’t stay off my phone.

I’m not going to defend myself. Yeah, I’m an Indie author with a book out, thus making me a small business dependent of social media and email. Sure, I get a lot of my news and information from the Twitter and blogs, where I’m active as a writer. You betcha that most of my Internet activity is innocent updating and mild entertainment. But this was her night. She deserved my full attention and fake smile as she pulled on another pair of shorts. But I screwed up.

I didn’t realize my grevious error until the next day when it was mentioned by her. I honestly thought she was ignoring me because Burlington Coat Factory had a stuff on sale.

*side note* shouldn’t that place be called Burlington Clothes Factory? I mean coats make up less than half their inventory.

But she wasn’t ignoring me. She saw every thumb swipe, each chuckle at a decent tweet, and all the finger shuffles as I answered replies, emails, and blog comments. I sucked that night. I don’t think I’m as bad as my teenage daughter who has burned many plates of brownies because she wouldn’t stop texting. I’ve seen her run into furniture and people because her friends just had to send her something so random that it needed to be checked immediately. But last Saturday was special for the Bobina and I blew it.

My dear writer friend Andra Watkins wrote about being unable to enjoy a spa experience because of similar dooshy behavior by those around her http://andrawatkins.com/2013/04/03/he-took-it-out/  . It’s bad when you relate to the antagonists in your friends’ stories.

I like Twitter, the book o face doesn’t bother me some of the times, and  I dig blogging the mostest; but I love my family, especially The Bobina. This isn’t a “cell phones are the devil” post nor is it “social media friggin rules, get over it people” one, either. But I need to find a balance between family time and self-expressionism that blogging that the media that is social emulates. It’s great to be connected. But I need to make sure I’m connected the right way.

Here’s the Stereo MCs. Feel free to dance.

Same Love

People get hung up on the wrong reasons why there’s such political and cultural division in our country. They like to focus on things that have ”versus” in the middle of them. Progressive versus liberal, Republican versus Democrat, for versus against. What they should do is look at the documents our founding fathers wrote and see a phrase that touts our strengths as a country and a people and exposes our weaknesses.

From the Declaration of Independence, written by Thomas Jefferson and edited by Benjamin Franklin:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed;^[

Yet, today, two-hundred and forty-one years after those 55 words plus one-thousand-two-hundred-eighty-two more were sent to England, the United States of America still can’t get away from hypocrisy. Because in front of the Supreme Court, arguments will be heard on California’s Proposition 8 ban on same-sex marriages. People have been waiting in line for four days for the chance at being in the room while the two sides try to sway the court. I wish I could be there. Because according to our own Declaration of Independence, we’re denying our citizens’ rights to equality.

Lawyers representing one lesbian and one gay couple from California will try  to persuade the nine Supreme Court justices Tuesday to strike down the state’s  voter-approved ban on same-sex marriages and to declare that gay couples can marry nationwide.

I don’t mind if you disagree with me. But this is my blog. It’s like my living room. So have the common decency to keep your shoes on the floor and use a coaster for your drinks I provide you. Please don’t come at me that gay folks getting married makes a mockery of the institution. Our parents’ generation did that when they skyrocketed the divorce rate from 27% to 52% in less than twenty years. Also, my first marriage was a joke. I’m hanging onto my second. If we were gay, that would still be the case. Plus, Jesse James, that scumbag who remodels motorcycles, just got married for the 4th time.

I’m a Christian. I also live in the southeastern United States where ignorance, prejudice and homophobia run wild, like Hulkamania but with worse clothes and haircuts. I support equal rights for everyone in my town, county, state, and country.

Arguing for same-sex marriage rights are Ted Olson and David Bois. If you’re a political geek or read more than People magazine, you’ll remember them as the dudes who faced off against each other during the 2000 Bush versus Gore election fiasco. That’s when two men tied for the Presidency and Olson argued that Bush led by 537 votes in Florida giving him the electoral college. Bois countered that Gore won the popular vote and the Florida count was flawed. The Supreme Court sided with Olson, 5-4, and you know what happened next - the Dubya years. Now, these two men will sit on the same side of the room and advocate for paying attention to those 55 words from 241 years ago. That says a lot. Two former foes can agree on this but 41 states (9 states currently allow gay marriage) can not?

I’ll be in Washington D.C. during the first few days of June. The decision on the arguments presented today should come down on the 4th or 5th of that month. I’m hoping that me, my wife, and three daughters will be in town so that we can dance in the streets to the song I’m about to play with our brothers and sisters of same sexes who want to have their love recognized.

100 Word Song – Galileo

There are so many positive aspects to hosting 100 word song. One of them is getting to know people who have terrific tastes in music. Fellow music freak and proud Jersey girl, Kath from http://katstheoryofmusic.blogspot.com/ wrote a terrific 100 word entry full of twisted darkness then picked this week’s tune, Galileo by Indigo Girls. The IGs got huge the year I graduated high school, 1988, and were local legends in the Atlanta suburbs where I lived. I saw them 3 times, in their prime, live between 1988 and 1990. Thanks to t for last week’s Clash. Can’t to see what y’all do with Galileo and who gets to pick next week’s.

For my 100 we stay with grieving Jake, Violet and Augusta and try to get them past the dust up in the living room of my short story Soul To Body.

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2013/03/19/until-she-comes/

Violet’s revelation broke down all of Jake’s parental defenses. He and Camille had kept a lot of their checkered pasts from her. He’d quit being a full-time musician to be a father and a husband. Now some truth, while uncomfortable, seemed right. He pulled Violet in front of him, stroked her long blonde hair, glanced at his sister-in-law, Augusta, then exploded his fears amidst crying

“It’s more than missing your mom, Vi. And it’s more than wanting another woman as a distraction. My soul hurts from what I didn’t get right with your mom and Gus’ sister before she died.”

As always, you have 7 days from NOW to write 100 words inspired by the Indigo Girls Galileo. Please use the Mr. Linky below to post your 100, then tweet, book o face, google +, smoke signal, morse code, and text a friend or 50 your new work of audio austered art.

Here’s the dynamic dup from Decatur, Georgia with Galileo.

Jarfly Station

Many times I’d driven past an antique store called Jarfly Station. I wasn’t its clientele, but I stopped. I walked in. The elderly lady behind the counter smiled and said, “welcome home, son.”

*****blogger’s note****

This is my 33 word response to this week’s Trifecta Challenge – http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ For the weekend challenge we’re asking for exactly thirty-three words written in
first person narrative. I challenged myself, here. I’ve always wanted to use Pearl Jam’s “Elderly Lady Behind The Counter In A Smalltown” because it’s a short story song about finding home and yourself in weird situation. There really is an antique shop in a small town near where I live called Jarfly Station. It’s adorable and I’m stopping next time I go by there. You have my word.

Here’s PJ:

Nine Minutes Of Me

I made a vlog in my bathroom where I talk about me, my new book The Ballad of Helene Troy, and some thank yous.

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/288604

Amazon/Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/The-Ballad-Helene-Troy-ebook/dp/B00BJOMM84/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1361667874&sr=8-1&keywords=lance+burson

Thank you

100 Word Song – I Won’t Back Down

I’m approaching a maximum overdrive with my robot sensors and other parts this week concerning the blog. I apologize for being a day late and a few dollars short with 100 word song but a writing deadline and the release of my novel, The Ballad of Helene Troy have overwhelmed me. I can’t believe I wrote almost every day this week. Deb aka @debIsee aka Ms. Wyoming wrote more of her fantastic serial, Vivid Black this week with her 100 word song entry. It was an excellent interpretation of Rene’s choice, Billy idol’s John Wayne. I’m the last cowboy in the meme/prompt world that loves when my writing pardners serialize. It’s harder to write that way. I appreciate the talent. Leeroy asked Deb to choose this week’s tune. She went with Tom Petty’s I Won’t Back Down, from his finest CD, in my opinion, Full Moon Fever. It’s also perfect for my 100 words this week as we head back to Jake, Augusta, Violet, and Mallory in my short story, Soul To Body.

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2013/02/13/100-wordsong-john-wayne/

Violet and Augusta stood side-by-side in the center of the living room. Violet chewed on her upper lip. Augusta crossed her arms. Their faces burned rage that Jake had seen in his late wife, Camille. He kept his eyes on the women while addressing the controversy standing quiet in the kitchen.

“Mallory, I’d like to call rain check on tonight. I’m not feeling well and I have some things to talk about with my family. I’m sorry.”

His gaze stayed on the two sets of angry blue eyes lasered back. Mallory caressed Jake’s arm as she whispered “goodbye for now”.

As always you have one week to write 100 words inspired by the song chosen, I Won’t Back Down, by Tom Petty and Deb. Please tell a friend or fifty and link up your excellent response on the Mr. Linky provided by Leeory, below. We didn’t have a lot of responses last week. Let’s get back on track with many more. Thank you for being patient with my neuroses with the book.

Misbehaviour

The midlife crisis concept is absurd because I don’t know when I’m going to die.

Fourteen years ago, two movies, Fight Club and American Beauty, promoted themes of living more meaningful lives before “it was too late”. I identified with “Narrator/Tyler Durden” in Club and ”Lester” in Beauty.

Seven years later, while following through on my Project Mayhem/New Lester adventures, maturity busted me into being self-aware and realistic.

Not going gently into that good night can happen without punching people in the face or buying a 1970 Firebird. I have to figure out how to misbehave while being a good man.

******blogger’s******

I went personal for my friend Velvet Verbosity’s 100 word challenge http://www.velvetverbosity.com/  for the word “BUSTED”. I went through a divorce in 2006 and tried the midlife crisis thing. It didn’t work, because it really doesn’t exist. If I drop dead at 72 or 86, then you can call me out on your blogs or holograms or whatever we have, then.

Here’s a band I wish my teenager would listen to. As long as I have music like The Vaccines, I’m neither old nor in crisis.

100 Word Song – Beautiful Disaster

After a very special 100 word song last week, hanging with the dudes at Dudewrite.com, we’re back to whatever passes for normal around here. This means Jake getting pulled in different direction in his living room and kitchen by Gus and Mallory, is back, too. Before we get to his 100 words of drama, I’d like to introduce a new 100 word playa – Donetta Sifford. She tracked us down a couple of weeks ago and wrote a great piece last week. Leeroy has a new friend and asked her to pick this week’s tune. I like new writers. I hope she sticks around. You can find the cool named Donetta on the twitter @donettasifford and at her well-written blog : http://myconstantthought.blogspot.com/2012/12/this-could-be-fun.html   . She chose Beautiful Disaster by 311.

Here’s my 100:

Last time: http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/100-word-song-soul-love/

Augusta’s scowl was identical to her sister’s. Royal blue eyes, small, flared nostrils, and teeth gnashed. Jake didn’t back down. He turned his back to Mallory, still standing in the kitchen, clenched his jaw and leaned into his sister-in-law.

“She let me go that day in the hospital, Gus. I never stopped loving her, but she….”

Augusta put her index finger into Jake’s chest. Tears danced with her eyeliner. She whispered with malice.

“Shut your damn mouth. Camille never stopped loving you. And in her kitchen, where she made you dinner is a disaster not nearly as beautiful as her.”

As always, you have seven days from…now….to write 100 words inspired by 311′s Beautiful Disaster. Please link up with Mr. Linky below and use the twitter, the book o face, or whatever you want to tell a friend or 50 about your entry.

Barely Breathing

I know what you’re doing
I’ve played your game before
I only lose by telling
My secret song I adore

There’s not much more to say
There’s nothing left to hide
Yeah, i’m being serious
But I’m not revealing why

‘Cause I love Barely Breathing
by Duncan Sheik
No, I’m not kidding
I just showed my freak

*****blogger’s note*****

http://accordingtomags.blogspot.com/2013/01/ketchup-with-us-prompt-11.html Melissa and Michele are good friends with me and my wife, Bobina. They do a bi-weekly prompt where Melissa dresses up like Ketchup and ask for 57 words on a topic. You’d think they’duse Heinz 57, but you know, chicks, This time it was 57 words on something you’re embarrassed to love. I own Duncan Sheik’s self-titled 1996 album. For a music snob, this is am embarrassing fact. But I dig this song a lot. I rewrote it to fit the prompt. The real lyrics are in this video. I can play some of it on guitar. Here’s the Sheik of Sensitivity.

Here Comes A Regular

One of the things I learned from 2 1/2 years of therapy, besides an hour means 50 minutes, is to never hide who you really are because people will figure you out anyway. I don’t know if this is true all the time. Writing online for three years straight and on and off for another three years prior, I’ve revealed a lot about myself, good and bad, but I don’t think people have figured me out. They probably never will. Because in my offline life, or what some people would call “real life”, few people have any idea the whack job they deal with on a daily basis. This is certainly true with my family and my day job has no clue who and what I am. I write a lot about my anxiety and depression. I call myself “regular crazy” to make people feel more comfortable about it all.

When I met my wife a friend asked me “Has she shown you her crazy?ore importantly, has she seen yours? Because if she’s with you, she has to have a little, because you have a lot!” I laughed it off then found a corner to curl up in the fetal position because I knew that this would have to happen soon since my wife, then my girlfriend, had children and I did too. So I showed her my crazy. Like tweets, Facebook stati, blog posts, and book chapters, my  crazy came at her in pieces. By the time we married she was ready for the full on whackadoo me. And she got it. Why we’re still together is a volatile mix of modern medicine and blind, dumb luck, I mean love.

My good situation at home and my writing experience have made me more transparent at work. On a conference call, during a brief intermission while we waited for someone to join, I was talking about a previous project that everyone on the call had worked with me. It was infamous because of problems so when I said “yeah, that project was as much fun as a Kafka novel” I thought someone might chuckle. When silence happened, I realized what normal people were like and I waited for someone to drag me from the freezing cold ocean of dumb I’d fallen into.

I’m reading a lot of people who talk about cutting back on blogging and social media to “spend more time with real life” and I always say aloud ”well, what will they do with their crazy?” This is why we blog and tweet, right? Eventually that crazy, or different or alternative thinking, however you wish to label, has to come out. Sure, you get off the computer for a while, but when you’re in line at the grocery store and the person in front of you shows every racist, homophobic, annoying coupon hoarding personality tick where do you express your frustration? Those books you download, those websites you visit, that music that none of your friends or family like; where do you talk about that stuff?

Therapy, whether it’s clinical or something as artistically tangible as writing, is supposed to teach you that what’s inside of you can be harnessed into fuel to make your engines – the mind and body – run better over time. Facebook shows me, and it should show everyone who reads this post, that while normal and conventional is good for those who possess those traits, those who feel outside of the white picket fence life need their outlets of expression. This is why My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, @TLanceB, and my columns for SprocketInk.com exist.

Being different, offbeat, or my own label – regular crazy- is okay so don’t be afraid to reveal it. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

Paul Westerberg is one of my heroes and he knows what I’m talking about. He writes about ir perfectly in this song from his Replacements days. Here’s Here Comes A Regular. It’s brilliant.