{Originally published on John T. Unger Studio}

The best thing that ever happened to me was the night an angry, messed up cab driver pulled me into the back room of a 24 hour diner and held a huge handgun to my head for over ten minutes, all the while describing in intricately fetishistic detail exactly what would happen when he pulled the trigger.

Why? Because it changes you, staring down a nutjob holding a gun. After that, the small stuff just doesn’t get sweated. You either break, or break through to a mandatory satori of keeping things in proportion that most people never get to walk away from. It’s an ice calm I wouldn’t trade for anything.

The second best thing that ever happened to me was when the dot com crash of 2000 wiped out most of the design industry at the peak of my career as a freelance print designer. I went from turning away work every week to working exactly 7 days of the next year. I lost my girl. I lost my loft. I lost part of my thumb in an accident moving out of the loft. I pretty much lost it all.

Of course, the only reason I was working in offices was to fund the art career I wanted… materials, space, tools, etc. I worked eight hours in the office and ten in the studio, sleeping when I passed out involuntarily. I decided that if my industry had tanked, I was damned if I was gonna retrain to do something else I didn’t want to do. I chose to make the art be my sole means of support. I built some monumentally scaled commissions working out of borrowed shop space, with borrowed gear, sleeping on borrowed couches.

It worked. I’ve been making my living as an artist ever since, and these days I earn triple the income I ever did from the best corporate gigs.

The third best thing that ever happened was the day my studio building collapsed under a load of snow while I was standing on the roof shoveling. I rode that roof to the ground like a gut-shot rodeo pony. The building and some pricey tools were completely destroyed, but I was unharmed… until I spent the next three months (December, January and February) without heat, running water or a stove because the natural gas line into the house had been severed in the collapse. The gas company refused to fix the line until they could bury it in the spring. I lost a few brain cells, I’m sure, by running an unvented kerosene heater inside the house to stay alive.

{Originally published on Suburban Oblivion.}

What is it about the male ego? What is this inner drive they possess that makes them not just a normal person, but a sweat-soaked, testosterone-driven, strong as an ox, and hung like a bull, god-in-their-own-mind? And why do they turn into sniveling babies if anyone so much as hints they are anything less? And why are they so damn scared of skin care products??

I was in Target tonight when I happened to catch a glance at a new skin care line for men. I wouldn’t have even realized it was there had the words “Anti-Pale Skin Moisturizer” not jumped out at me. Anti-pale skin?? I’ve seen anti-redness creams, but never anti-pale stuff. Wtf? So I read further- “Provides gradual, natural looking color.” It took me a second to realize what I was actually looking at was sunless tanning lotion for men! Seems we have to be very careful with the wording, because I guess the male ego just could not handle using something with the words ‘tanning lotion’ in it? So now its not sunless tanning lotion, its anti-pale skin moisturizer. Riiiiiight. Anyone else find this funny? Just a little? Actually if you want a real good laugh, the directions further explain that you will see “maximum anti-pale, anti-pasty benefit within a week of twice-daily usage”. Gosh forbid ya just tell the guys they will start to see a little color on their face within a week. I checked my bottle of sunless tanning lotion, btw, and nowhere do the words “anti-pasty benefit” show up.

Naturally I had to check out this product line, and the madness continues. Men do not use things that make their skin fresh it seems, they use “Power Clean Anti-Dullness Face Wash”. (Sounds like something my husband would clean his car with.) Feeling dry? Try the “Hydrapower Invigorating Moisturizer”, or if you have combination skin, how about the “Oil Controller Anti-Oiliness Moisturizer”. And we must have our “Power Buff Anti-Ruffness Exfoliator”.

Is it just me or does all this stuff sound more like something you’d find in a garage than a medicine cabinet?

{Originally published on Dadomatic.}

My dad is a great dad. He indelibly shaped my personality, mores, and outlook in life. Now that I am a dad too, I appreciate what he did even more. It wasn’t easy to narrow them down, but these the top ten lessons that he taught me.

1. Don’t take any shiitake from anyone. My dad was a state senator for twenty years, and he never walked away from a confrontation with the local newspapers, labor unions, and government officials. He taught me not to kowtow to anyone just because they are in lofty positions. This is a very useful attitude because if people sense that you don’t take any shiitake, they won’t give you any.

2. Obey your teachers. My dad taught me that teachers knew more than I did so I should treat them with respect. This was a rare exception to the “don’t take shiitake from anyone” lesson. Come to find out, (a) teachers very seldom dish out shiitake, and (b) they truly change the world (and not for the money), so they (c) deserve truckloads of respect.

3. Don’t follow the crowd. Initially, I thought that he was saying that most people were stupid–and I agreed with him. But I now realize that he was telling me not to follow the crowd because the crowd “mentality” can make smart people do dumb things. This is why I don’t believe in the “wisdom of the crowd” to this day.

4. Show some noblesse oblige. My dad was very big on the concept that people who are fortunate (in terms of power, prestige, or money) have the moral obligation to be kind, help others, and even answer their emails. By far, this is the most difficult lesson to implement if lots of people want something from you, but as my father taught me, you just have to deal with it.

5. Read. My dad taught me to love to read. We had hundreds of books around our house, and he bought me any book that I wanted. With his encouragement, I also spent hundreds hours in the public library too. This love of reading led to a love of doing research (in those days, in the World Book Encyclopedia!) and eventually to a love of writing.