Today I read an online news article about the recent, massive peanut butter recall and found an excerpt to be of particular interest:

"Peanut butter lover Adam Leidhecker checked online to make sure his food is safe. He combed through his cupboard and found a few peanut butter cookies and crackers and threw them away if those companies hadn't released a statement stating their products were safe.

"The companies not affected need to take an extra step to say that they're on top of it," said Leidhecker, a Williamsport, Pennsylvania, resident.

He said he'll continue to eat his daily creamy peanut butter sandwich and slather peanut butter on a treat for his 2-year-old dog, Lola, after checking the products online.

"I'm not going to go without peanut butter," he said."

OK, kudos to Adam for ensuring every tablespoon of his PB intake was safe and salmonella-free. Good job. But, the nugget of fascination within this article was Adam's final statement, "I'm not going to go without peanut butter."

You see, this subtle statement reflects just one of the many attitude problems us Americans have and often overlook as just that--a problem: an unwillingness (or perhaps an all-out refusal) to go without. America is a land of have, not have not. We get what we want. We do what we want. And we don't take no for an answer. We're also completely dependent upon things to make us safe, happy, or healthy, rather than ourselves. We've seen this throughout our lifetimes, both on a social level and personal level.

Take for instance, Katrina. All were warned that the magnitude of the storm would be devastating and fatal for residents in its path. Some left their earthly possessions and escaped with their hides still attached. Others did not; some didn't want to leave their homes and belongings, some didn't care enough as they've braved other storms in the past, while some simply refused to leave on the basis that "they didn't want to." After all, they wanted to ride out the storm's fury in their own home, in the comfort of their familiarity.

Some residents did not have the means to leave, yes, I know.

For some victims of Katrina, they simply could not go without their stuff; therefore they stayed, and they paid. It's extremely unfortunate.

I've heard others say that "they could not go a day without their cell phone!" They'd simply die. Really? No you wouldn't. You'd be just fine. You'd still have a pulse, wouldn't you? Yes, your BFF wouldn't be able to hear about what you did last night, but you'd still be breathing. You'd be A-OK.

OMG, the internet is down. Now what!? It's practically equated to not having electricity. But I can't go without internet access!? How am I supposed to update my Facebook status message to alert my friends that I have no internet access, no cell phone, and no peanut butter?!

Pretty sure Native Americans were always without the internet, cell phones, and PB (and Facebook). And they did alright for themselves. Some even have bamboo flooring in their casino bar lounges. Fancy.

But Adam doesn't want to go without peanut butter, and neither does Lola. Well, Adam, I hope you continue to do your recall research since, life is simply not worth living if that PB sandwich doesn't hit your lips every day, as well as Lola's snout. You idiot. Yes, PB makers and distributors are putting the word on the street that their PB is indeed safe for consumption therefore we all can safely buy up their products with no fret whatsoever. As they should. But, you know what else is important? Your health. Don't be so ignorant and stubborn to say that you won't go without peanut butter, despite the iffy circumstances (I wanted to say Jiffy circumstances, but refrained). It's peanut butter. It's not a life-sustaining need, by any means. If there was a pacemaker recall, yeah, I'd say keep that pacemaker in your body until you officially hear otherwise. Don't stop using it.

But, again, this is about peanut butter. If you really, really tried, I bet you could go a couple of weeks without peanut butter. I swear! It probably wouldn't be that hard or harmful. You so could do it, Adam, I know it. And Lola would be just fine with the temporary withdrawal, too. Sure she might piss on your bedsheets or chew on your Old Navy flip flops in retaliation, but she'll eventually get over it. Slip her a Beggin' Strip to cool her jets in the meantime.

My point: don't take your life for granted. Life is precious. It's a gift. It should last for a long, long time. And as long as you have your health (and your dignity) you have everything you need. You can go without the rest.

My best to you during this difficult time.

I feel like I have to say this, just to get it out of my head:

OK, America. Barack is now President. Get over it and get down to business.

:)

Seriously. I know we're all happy, patriotic, life-loving citizens right now as we anticipate our hopes for prosperity, peace in the Middle East, economic stability, and unending tax breaks and refunds (booya!) to come true, but let's step back to reality. The party is over.

Yes, we have a new Prez. A good one, too. But, let him do his job. Get out of his way. Get over it. The world hasn't stopped for him, so neither should we.

Accordingly, no more commentary on how absolutely wonderful Barack is. He's not just a celebritized, political figure anymore. He's our President. He has a job to do. A real job. He's in charge of the free world...and what a mess it is. Let him get started. There's no more time for autographs.

While we're at it, don't expect him to endlessly say cheese! with Asian tourists or clap along to Mary J. Blige performances. No more US Weekly covers and interviews. No more scrutinizing everything Michelle Obama wears. No more chanting yes we can! (if you persist on the YWC! chants, just watch Bob the Builder, I believe he coined it first.)

I mean, you can just tell from the look on Obama's face that he's completely over the media love affair, over all of his celebrity BFFs, over seeing endless stockpiles of Obama memorabilia for sale (and probably slightly embarrassed that people spend their dwindling dollars on it), and more than likely over the massive Barack-themed orgies amongst our citizens. You can just tell he is ready to get to work. If you look closely, you can see in his eyes an immense passion to fix this country's woes...if only you could get past how gentle and friendly they are.

He wants you to hold him accountable for his promises, his lure, his beliefs, his ethics. He's ready to put all of that talk into reality. Make it happen. Make it more than just a hope.

Make him make it happen. He wants you to. He wants to do his job.

Turn off your ga-ga face and put on your game face. Get over your immense love affair for our now President and start monitoring the situation; what needs to be done, what he's doing, what he's not doing, and what he could do better. It's time to get to work. And he works for us.

Let's be real for five seconds: The US has a shit-ton of problems. Real ones. Most of which affect YOU. Or were started by YOU, in some respect. After all, it's YOU that bought a house you couldn't afford, it's YOU that didn't have a savings account in case you lost your job, it's YOU that can't pay your bills because your credit cards are maxed out and you're fronting your whole paycheck just to pay off the interest. It's YOU that pollutes the world by driving your car everywhere and then some, yet you blame Bush for global warming and the situation of those poor, poor polar bears. No, no...don't pass the buck--that's all on YOU, too.

So instead, let's focus on what needs to happen, what you need to do, what Barack needs to do, and let's end the celebrity fantasy obsession we have with our new administration.

They are elected citizens with crucial jobs to do. Hold them to their purpose. Closely.

And don't forget to do your job, too.

Sleepless gliding
Over the city lights
Watch us flying
Over the streets tonight.

And I say
There’s a way,
there’s a way, I know.
I know that someday we will surely find it.

Sunday morning
Watching the city sleep
Dreams are shining
Finely they’re within reach.

And I say
There’s a way,
there’s a way, I know.
Someday, there’s a way
Someday, there’s a way
I know it.

There’s a way,
there’s a way, I know.

4 AM
Kaskade

Let's go...

What are you looking at?

I've gotten quite a few emails concerning the fact that I no longer have the comment feature available on my blog, nor do I have commenting allowed on any V-Logs via YouTube.

And my collective answer to these emails is: Yes, you are correct, no commenting.

You want to know why? It's quite simple:

1) Comments really aren't necessary for me to do what I do, whatever that is.
2) People have access to my personal email as well as my YouTube messaging service if they feel compelled enough to comment on a blog or V-Log post, respectively. Use it, if you dare. If not, thanks for stopping by.

As soon as I stepped off the bus, I braced for the worst.
The snow, the wind, the cold;
It chapped my skin.
It stole my breath.
It hurt my heart.

I hurried down the sidewalk, my shoes slipping in the salty slush.
Any place on Earth, I'd rather be.
But here.
The gray snow sickened my core.
Ruined my mood.
Stopped my life.

But then I heard a shout.
I heard a laugh.
I saw two kids. One pulling the other in a sled.
He smiled as he pulled her. She laughed as she flew.
She leaned back and looked at the sky.
The snow, the snow fell softly on her face. Her smile widened.
His laugh grew.
The two noticed no cold, felt no misery.

My own childhood flashed before my eyes,
My sister and I flying so fast down that hill,
The snow crunching beneath.
Hour upon hour,
Up hill and down.
Our fingers numb, our feet wet, our bodies tired.
But our souls lighter than ever, our happiness full.

The two children went on.
Their smiles unyielding.

I went on, too.

As I turned back around, the cold took my breath again,
but this time, I let it.

And smiled.

Six month experiment: sobriety.

Yep, no more drinking. I'm ready for it, I think. It can only bring about a change that can do nothing but make me feel better, inside and out.

I'm tired of looking at lemons and limes, I'm tired of having to be in a different state of mind in order to have fun, I'm tired of seeing photos of blurry, watered eyes.

I'm tired of bars. I'm tired of booze. I'm tired.

Over it.

Sober Ryan.

There's some expression that says something to the effect of: even bad pizza is kind of good.

Well, here's the thing. So, I'm considering not drinking anymore because it's just not beneficial to my mental or physical health. But that's beside the point, sort of. I went out last night and had some drinks with John and apparently had too much because I've been hungover all day on top of having a slight cold. I laid in bed until 3:36 today. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes staring at the ceiling, sometimes staring at the glass of water on my nightstand, wishing it would refill itself somehow magically.

That is sort of beside the point, too.

Eventually I mustered up the energy to go to the convenient store in my building in order to buy something to eat. I wanted to get a pizza since it's just the easiest option. Well, all of the pizzas they offered were WEIRDO pizza. Not a single one was a recognizable brand name. EXCEPT Mystic Pizza. Yes, like the movie. Frozen Mystic Pizza. Weird. I've never seen the movie so the pizza didn't impress me on a first name basis. Also, the pizza pictured on the box looked mildly disgusting and pathetic, so I passed it up real quick.

The other frozen pizza was called Romano's. Yes, there were only 2 options. Mystic or Romano's. Whatever. No box for Romano's, just clear saran wrap, realllll ghetto-like. But at least it allowed me to see the pizza in order for me to make snap judgements more easily. There was no ego with this pizza, unlike the Mystic. Just from looks alone of the Romano's pizza itself, I knew it was going to suck. The cheese was very sparsely placed, the pepperonis looked all raggedy, and the crust looked extra stupid. Just one, big, stupid-looking pizza.

So I purchased it. And it sucked. It sucked bad.

But what was weird though, out of the eight slices, I managed to eat 6.

Without blinking.