Ethan Holmes; Life in Sedona

I live in a town that is one of the world’s most popular tourist destinations. It’s not uncommon for people to spend thousands of dollars, (um…, I mean max out their credit cards,) and travel thousands of miles, often trapped in a car or plane with cranky, ill-tempered relatives, (um…, I mean loving family), to get here.

The Line Into Sedona

line into sedona

Sedona is a physically beautiful place, usually blessed with a deep blue and relatively clear sky, gorgeously peaceful Oak Creek, (unless the campers upstream are peeing in it and throwing trash,)  plenty of red rocks that the tourists haven’t stolen as souvenirs yet and at least twenty to thirty illegal immigrants, er…, I mean ‘local labor force’, standing on the main drag two blocks from city hall and the cop station.

You can mountain bike here, play golf or just hang out at any number of ‘resorts’ that will be happy to charge three hundred dollars a night, sometimes for a room no larger than the master bedroom closet back at your house. (By the way, don’t forget to get your hot-rock, aroma therapy, crystal vortex, chakra-aligning massage just before your complimentary breakfast of stale croissants and instant coffee. We’ll throw in a free ‘aura reading’ to tell you which trail you should be on today.)

You can hike here too. Everybody here does it. You know how I know that? Because you hear it everywhere you go. Just the other day I was sitting in my vehicle at one of the pedestrian crossings in uptown. Three women in flip-flops, cargo shorts and carrying at least two shopping bags apiece were crossing in front of me. All three of them were on their cell phones. The middle one was busy texting and was apparently being herded, seeing-eye dog style, across the street by the other two. The one closest to me spoke to her phone. “Oh, we’re hiking Sedona!

One of my favorite places to visit was always Slide Rock State Park. It used to look like this.

slide rock2

Now it looks like this on a slow day.

Slide-Rock-State-Park crowd

The tourism honchos here would not like me telling you that access to Slide Rock State Park is now very similar to getting on a ride at Disney World. (Bring provisions and make sure your car’s AC is in tip-top shape. We have found entire families mummified in their cars at the back of the line.) It’s not uncommon to see a long line of cars stretching a mile or more in both directions on 89A waiting just to get in the park. The hotter the day, the longer the line. And don’t forget, you cannot leave your vehicle anywhere on US Forestry land, including all the trailheads, without your vaunted Red Rock Pass, otherwise known as Sedona’s Parking Permit. If you do, the local meter maids, um…, I mean US Forestry rangers, will actually give you a parking ticket. (And to think they could be doing something useless like, I don’t know, stopping local contractors from dumping on Forest Land.)

Meanwhile, if you’re looking for the cops because the dingbat behind you slammed into you because he “thought you were moving”, this is where you’ll find them.

sedona copsWaiting for the old ladies who live in Sedona to wake up and make them some pie.

You may be fortunate enough to ‘run into’ one of the many locals here who like to drive,

Pick one of the following;

A: While talking/texting on their phone

B: Under the influence of alcohol, prescription meds or both

C: While trying to unwrap and eat their organic, gluten-free, dairy-free, meat-free, grain-free, bean sprout, baby spinach, no dressing, low fat, soy based, vegetarian taco.

D: All of the above.

This could easily happen on one of Sedona’s thoroughly antiquated side streets like this one.

sedona streetIf that happens, fourteen of ‘Sedona’s finest’ will suddenly appear out of nowhere, two of whom will ‘know the other driver’ and promptly collaborate with him/her to write up a report blaming you.

I like it here so much that I finally broke down and bought a house. My local real estate agent, who also works as a postal carrier, a part-time cashier at Basha’s and has a home-grown Ebay business, had been urging me for years to “buy something” while the market was hot. “You’re buyin’ the red dirt, not the house! That’s where the money is!” (That’s an actual quote.)

So here’s a shot of my new house.

ruins 1

It only cost me a half million and it’s a bit of a fixer-upper. All I have to do is get four more part-time jobs at eight bucks an hour and I can start throwing some money at this baby.

Why, in two or three centuries I’ll bet this sweet little place will double in value. And if it crumbles, well, just remember, it’s all about the ‘red dirt’.

I hope you all come visit sometime.

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books including his latest release, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone.

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Ethan Holmes Declares a Day of No Fear

I believe that fear is the single most influential factor in the choices we make in life. As a dyed-in-the-wool, true blue romantic, I want to say it’s love; but it’s not. It’s fear; fear that we will fail, fear that there are too many obstacles, fear that others won’t like or approve of our choices.

Ethan Holmes choices 1

What if we started out taking one single day, like today for example, and declaring that we will live the next twenty four hours with no fear? It’s not an easy thing considering the fact that nearly everything we deal with on a daily basis, including our entire environment, is saturated in fear.

Think about it for a moment. We often wake up and instantly choose to sit in a tub of fear. “Oh no, I’m going to be late for work!” “The kids forgot their homework.” “I’m out of coffee! I can’t live without my morning coffee!” I have a meeting at work today and I’m not prepared!” “There’s nothing in the freezer for dinner tonight!”

As we travel through our day fear continues to follow us around. “I’m not going to get all this work done by five, dammit.” “The boss wants to see me tomorrow morning.” “If I eat that cinnamon roll it’s going straight to my waistline right behind that cappuccino.” “I forgot my cell phone at home!” “The car was making a clunking noise on the way to work.”

Later when we get home the fear follows us right in the front door and we choose to let it. “How am I going to pay all these bills I just got?” “My twelve-year old has a toothache. How much is that going to cost?” “The A/C isn’t working again and it’s ninety five degrees in here!” “My back feels like it’s going out again.” “I don’t have time to take my child to practice!” “I forgot to pick up my prescription!”

Finally, many of us end the day with the single most detrimental thing we can do before we lie down at night and attempt to put the day, and ourselves, to rest. We choose to watch the evening news to end our day. Talk about fear; here’s thirty solid minutes of it. Media even manages to put fear into the weather; a natural process that humans have absolutely no control over! The funny thing is; they start warning you about the contents of the ten o’clock news during the six o’clock news; just in case you mistakenly thought something good was coming.

“Why you should be scared of escalators at the mall!” “Shootout downtown results in three deaths!” “Find out why you should be concerned about your Facebook account!” “Sinkholes, will they swallow your neighborhood next?!” “Five things you should know before you go to a gun show!”

And if that’s not enough, they have to vividly SHOW IT TO YOU to make sure you’re good and scared as you try to go to sleep; “FILM AT TEN! DON’T MISS IT! WE HAVE THE EXCLUSIVE!”

Ethan Holmes stormAnyone have a nice umbrella?

What if you chose to think only about things you had control over? You can’t do anything about the rest of it, therefore it’s useless to waste thought energy on it. What if you chose to think only about things you can do; not things you can’t do?

Ethan Holmes No Fear 2 Thomas-Edison-Quotes

Give it twenty four hours and see what happens. Spend the next day making choices that you wouldn’t normally make based on a complete lack of fear and the knowing that you can only act on this very moment. What happened sixty seconds ago is past, what will happen sixty seconds from now is future. What will you do RIGHT NOW without fear?

Ethan Holmes is the author of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone; a witty, humorous look at everyday, real life and the countless choices we make.

Follow Ethan Holmes’ Blog on the right side of this page.

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Ethan Holmes, Familiar Sayings

My name is Ethan Holmes and if you’ve ever read anything I wrote you already know I don’t have an ordinary or ‘normal’ viewpoint about many things. Personally I think ‘normal’ is overrated. I’d like to have a talk with whomever is responsible for the definition of ‘normal’.

Here are a few familiar sayings and my take on them.

outside-the-box

Think outside the box? What if there is no box?

box1

I don’t want a bucket list. If I had one, do you know what the first item on it would be?

Get rid of the damn bucket.

imagesMy theory is, if it isn’t there, I can’t kick it.

“We have nothing to fear but fear itself!” Roosevelt

facing-fear“Fear is the basis for every poor choice we ever made in our life.”

From, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone, by Ethan Holmes.

He’s a square peg in a round hole.

Square-Peg-Round-Hole I don’t want to be a perfect fit for any hole, square, round, triangle. I’d rather be malleable.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

h-armstrong-roberts-silhouette-back-view-of-three-upland-bird-huntersReally? Ask the bird about that.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

filepicker_nwxcvhmfqksovuayhbod_pills-3734b1Unless you’re on prescription medications. “Sometimes the remedy is worse than the disease.” Francis Bacon

Let sleeping dogs lie.

pitbullEspecially if it’s this one.

Don’t cry over spilled milk.

spilled_milk_thumbUnless you paid $5.99 a gallon for it.

Don’t burn your bridges behind you.

burningbridgeIt means you would consider returning to a place you shouldn’t have been in the first place. That’s why you moved on.

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books. If you like what you read please follow his blog on the right side of this page.

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Ethan Holmes, Rambling Man

I was thinking the other day. I do that on occasion. Then I seem to take a few days off.

Does an onion cry when you cut it?

Does broccoli scream when you put it in the steamer?

Are you torturing apples when you put them in the blender and make applesauce?

What would happen if you just got in a roundabout and just kept going around and around?

I live life on the edge. Just the other day I deliberately crossed the double yellow line.

My toothbrush has the same size motor in it as my motorcycle but uses less gas.

I recently dyed my hair red and it turned my teeth pink.

I played tennis this morning but it only lasted five minutes. Repeatedly jumping over the net is exhausting.

I looked in the mirror this morning and there was someone staring at me.

I was going to do laundry today but my rock broke.

I’m looking for the girl of my dreams and keep getting nightmares.

I’m addicted to self-help books. I just can’t help myself.

You may be a hoarder if the only way out of your house is the bathroom window.

I can remember getting a camera when I was ten but I can’t remember where I set the car keys ten minutes ago.

A few weeks ago I hurt both feet and couldn’t figure out which one to limp on.

My left hand is stronger than my right eye. Does that make me ambidextrous?

What would happen if you snatched someone’s cell phone at the mall, threw it in the fountain and yelled, “It’s an emergency!”?

With the planet’s sea levels rising, it won’t be long before I’ll finally get to use my snorkeling equipment here in Arizona.

If it’s all about global warming, why was my last heating bill $156.00?

Searching for the girl of my dreams is like looking through the window at my car keys sitting on the seat of my locked car.

Dating is like eating Jelly Belly’s; they’re expensive and you have no idea what flavor you’re going to get.

If I look at you through the bottom of my wine glass it looks like you lost twenty pounds.

Sometimes you just have to stop and listen to the voices in your head.

Ethan Holmes is the author of Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, Shorts and Other Laundry, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes and his latest release,

crap amazon

Ethan Holmes takes a humorous look at the many choices presented to us in life and the paths those choices set us upon. (Available in Paperback!)

Become a follower of Ethan Holmes’ blog and win a chance at a FREE PDF copy of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. Use the follow widget on the right side menu. (Followers only.)

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Social Networking and Ethan Holmes

Social Networking means you should ‘like’ me, ‘friend’ me, ‘pin’ me, ‘connect’ with me, ‘follow’ me and then let’s ‘twitter’ about it.

I want you to go to my Facebook page right now and ‘Like’ me dammit! Or better yet, ‘Friend’ me. Do this in spite of the fact that we don’t know each other, we’ve never met, probably will never meet and the second you do it, you’ll forget all about me.

Two weeks later you’ll be scratching your head and saying, “Ethan who?”

After you’re finished doing that I want you to go to my Twitter, (I don’t twitter), and ‘Follow’ me. Just keep your distance when I go to the restroom or I’m out on a date. (Yeah, that’s going to happen.)

I’m not sure why you’re supposed to ‘follow’ me or how closely; I just know that the more people there are ‘following’ me, the better off I am and the more successful I am. Hey, at least I won’t be lonely anymore if I have 356, 945 stalkers…, I mean, followers.

Exactly why are you supposed to ‘follow’ me? Are you supposed to hang on my every word, (read Twitter)? Are you supposed to be really that interested in my rather mundane existence? I mean, sure, I’m an author with five books out there and working on a sixth but how often can, (or should), I ‘twitter’ about them without annoying the crap out of my stalkers, er, I mean ‘followers’? Will you care that I stepped in dog poop today or that something fell on my foot and I’ve been limping for three weeks?

What’s with the ‘liking’ and ‘friending’ bit on Facebook? Right now my first grade teacher, Mrs. Peiri, is frantically attempting to dig her way out of the grave with her 12 inch wooden ruler. When she gets out, and she will, she is going to rap everyone on the head who uses the words text, texting, friend and friending as verbs. Then she is going to hunt down everyone who uses Twitter, one by one.

13068025-aged-woman-teacher-in-rage-holding-two-halves-of-broken-rulerFor the record, as I remember it, Mrs. Peiri was much larger than this.

“Twittering is for birds, you knucklehead. Humans converse, face to face if possible.”

This will be accompanied by a sharp bonk on your forehead and then she will throw your cellphone into the top drawer of her desk. This drawer can only be opened by correctly reciting multiple incantations of Shakespeare and writing an essay explaining why learning four other languages besides English will someday be beneficial.

All that aside, I cannot help wondering if anyone else feels the same way I do about social networking. I wonder what good it does and whether it’s a waste of my time. It hasn’t done a thing to change my status as an author and I’m not sure it’s supposed to do that.

Personally, I often feel uneasy about getting a message from my pages on Facebook or LinkedIn that contain a request to go ‘like’ or ‘friend’ a complete stranger. Maybe I’m just old fashioned; maybe I’m just old. How am I supposed to ‘like’ you if I don’t even know your name, what you do, or who you really are? And what am I supposed to do if I go to your page and I, (god forbid,) don’t ‘like’ you? (I will say that I have never solicited ‘likes’ from anyone. Can’t bring myself to ask people to go ‘like me on Facebook’.)

Recently I received a message on my LinkedIn page from a ‘fellow author’. He wanted to ‘connect’ with me, as they say on that site. So I clicked on his profile and scanned the page. His writing was horrendous, even in his profile. His writing samples and excerpts were worse. I had no idea why this fellow wanted to connect with me and, truth be told, I did not want to hit the ‘connect’ button. (I did anyway to avoid being rude.)

Are we morally and socially obligated to ‘like’ you or ‘friend’ you if request it? Actually, now that I think of it, most businesses and individuals don’t ask; they tell, they demand. Many commercials and printed ads now end with, “Go Like Us On Facebook!” Individual people virtually scream at you, “Go ‘like’ me on Facebook and I’ll ‘like’ you back!” What, are we all in third grade?

I’ve been arguing about social networking with myself lately. (You do that a lot when you’re as lonely as I am and you can’t find your medication.) I finally caved in and did the Facebook thing last year. Then I signed up with LinkedIn. Now everyone and every media outlet says I have to Twitter. I don’t want to Twitter. I’m with Mrs. Peiri; twittering is for the birds who are currently fighting it out over the four pounds of bird seed in the feeder outside. (Apparently four pounds isn’t enough for them.)

Twitter-funny-cartoon-birds-image

I actually read an article recently that insisted if I don’t twitter, I cannot possibly hope to be successful as an author. Huh?! Really? That’s all I have to do is accumulate thousands of followers on Twitter? So, rather than working on writing and being a writer who writes well, I should sharpen my social networking skills? I think I’d rather wait for that call from Oprah.

I really don’t think there are thousands of people out there who would be all that interested in the innocuous and often meaningless things going on in my life. Is that what you’re supposed to twitter about? How often are you supposed to twitter? How loudly should you twitter? Are there different types of twittering?

Social networking can cause you to entertain feelings of insecurity too. What if no one ‘follows’ me? What if no one ‘likes’ me? I spent a long time just existing on Facebook without seeking to do anything about ‘likes’ or ‘friends’. It didn’t seem to matter one bit. It still doesn’t. I used to joke that I had three friends on Facebook and two of them didn’t even ‘like’ me. I don’t want to be twittering and blogging to no one.

Why does society in general judge us by how many friends, followers and ‘likes’ we have? Why is social networking directly connected to our success or failure?

Questions, questions. I have more but right now I have to go ‘like’ myself.

 

You Have Already Voted For This Poll!!

To Twitter or Not to Twitter, That is the Question

You, the voting public, get to decide whether Ethan Holmes should glue some feathers on, open his beak and start twittering.
 Twitter and I'll follow you anywhere.  Twitter but I won't follow.  No. Keep your beak shut.  YES! Twitter away!

Total voters: 1

Ethan Holmes should twitter like a bird.

          100%      

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books. Feel free to visit and learn more about author Ethan Holmes.  ‘Follow’ his blog/podcast at http://podcast.ethanholmes.com

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Ethan Holmes and The Death of Customer Service

Please press one if you’d like to continue reading this blog.

Please press two if you’d like someone to read it to you.

Please press three if you forgot why you’re here.

Please press four if you are never going to buy our product again.

Please press five if you have nothing better to do with your time.

Please press six if you’d like to order an anti-depressant.

Please press seven if you’d like to talk to a representative from Thailand.

Please press eight if you’d like to hear these same inane, useless menu items again.

Please press nine if you now understand that we are never, ever going to pick up the phone and help you!

We’ve all been there, done that; encountered those nightmare customer service menus from hell that seem to be particularly designed to surreptitiously cause you to become so frustrated with the process that you actually, willingly hang up. It’s my theory that these torturous, merry-go-round menus are deliberately and ingeniously designed to make you GO AWAY!

Why else would you often end up right back where you started from when you first called?

Better yet, raise your hand if you’ve ever spent ten minutes on this merry-go-round and never spoke to a real human!

Did you ever take note of the fact that, despite having accessed this magic menu which has been known to contain as many as a dozen options, for some mysterious reason, none of them has anything to do with whatever you are calling about? Mark my words; it’s designed that way.

In this so-called modern age of everything converting to digital, customer service has died a slow and painful death. Today, millions of people actually believe that email, texting and instant messaging are viable and valid forms of communication. (Don’t believe me? Take a look out your car window the next time you’re in traffic.) Unfortunately this includes the vast majority of businesses out there, large and small.

When was the last time you can recall walking into a business and getting a warm greeting from an employee or the owner? When was the last time somebody said, “How may I help you?”, and meant it?

More often than not I get one of the following; a blank stare, a grunt, an employee walking right by me without a word or two employees too busy hitting on each other to notice you.

My favorite development in the new digital world of “we don’t have customer service; we just want your money,” is the fact that many businesses now hide behind email. (An interesting fact I will insert here; I recently had a business owner EMAIL ME BACK saying he didn’t know what that meant! SAY WHAT?)

I am a fairly intelligent guy, self-taught, self-educated and no paper hanging on the wall; nevertheless pretty damn smart…, at least most of time when I’m not making life-changing decisions. (But that’s another story or two.) When I need customer service, it’s usually because I have already taken care of what I fondly call “the stupid stuff”. In other words, if there is something, anything that can be done on my end to solve the problem, it’s usually been done before I reach for the phone or sit down to write an email.

Usually something is broken, the object is defective or the instructions appear to have been written by a rhesus monkey who got hold of a meth pipe. For instance, recently, a piece of writing software I had been trying out wiped out an entire work-in-progress novel. (Thank the great author gods I had sent a Word copy to a friend.)

Now when something like that happens, or any similar scenario comes up that obviously requires immediate attention, (like perhaps you stick your brand new, motorized toothbrush in your mouth and it shorts out, causing your teeth to turn charcoal black and smoke to come out of your ears,) you don’t want to run over to your computer and write an email. You need help now; well, right after you call for an ambulance.

See, that’s my problem with supposed ‘email customer service’. By the time I need help, I need it now, not ‘within forty eight hours’, not next week. In addition, I surely do not need to receive a message that tells me you’ve received my message. I need answers, solutions!

I’ve worked in jobs where customer service is a vital and integral part of the job. I used to sell computers and software for a major retail chain. I could write a book about that alone. Good customer service required that I tell the little, old lady that the CD tray is NOT a “cute, little cup holder”. It also required telling Dad that he didn’t need to return the $1800 computer he just bought his daughter “because it won’t come on”. (Yes, you really do need to plug it in sir, and no, there are not three gerbils, a conveyor belt with peanuts and a generator in the machine.)

I could go on and on. There was a customer who thought their brand new machine would simply “jump on the Internet all by itself” without the need to procure INTERNET SERVICE. Then there was the guy who bought a computer and then brought four of his buddies into the store to do the same so they “could all email each other” despite the fact that they all lived on the same block. I digress.

The point is, when people need customer service, they usually need it NOW. Not tomorrow, not next week, not next month. Email does not provide that and I wonder what went through that business owner’s mind when they implemented that. (Well, what am I saying? Of course, I know darn well what went through their mind; cost-cutting, money-savings, fewer employees, fewer customer problems you have to directly and promptly deal with.)

Email, because it is inherently automated and highly impersonal, often has the same disease as those merry-go-round menus; an inability to address the specific problem you have. How many times have you gone to the email menu that asks you to “select a problem” and none of them is your problem? It gets even funnier when you select a problem and it simply directs you to their “HELP” forum. There you can join  1,435 other beleaguered, frustrated ‘customers’ all floating around this cyber room desperately seeking answers to questions the business won’t answer. Now you get to ask each other if anyone has come up with a solution. HUH?

I miss the days when the word customer meant something; when businesses understood that we, the customer, are the lifeblood of your business.

I once made the mistake of telling a prospective employer that the saying, “the customer is always right” was completely wrong. “The customer,” I said, “is usually wrong and completely uneducated. But that is why we are here; to educate them. An educated customer is a buying customer and a happy customer.”

No, I didn’t get that job. What a surprise! The point is I know what the customer wants, I know what they need and I know how to take care of them, before and after the sale. I wonder why most businesses today either don’t get that or they don’t care.

My partial solution to all of this is really quite simple; own less crap. Take a moment to look around and think for a moment. How much crap do you own? How much time do you spend in your life taking care of some issue regarding that crap. You’ve got maintenance, warranties, gas and time to return the item to the store, shipping charges to return the item to the vendor, hundreds of dollars in batteries of all sizes and shapes, serial and registration numbers to be kept, receipts to be filed, updates to be performed and, of course, customer service to dance with.

Good grief, it’s a wonder we have time to do anything else except, in some way, take care of our crap. My partial solution for the moment; less crap, less need for customer service. I’m still working on a whole solution.

Ethan Holmes is the author of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. Ethan Holmes is also the author of Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, Shorts and Other Laundry and A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes

Become a follower of Ethan Holmes’ blog and get a chance to win a FREE paperback copy of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone.

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Scared is Scared of Things You Like

It is amazing to me how things come into my life every once in a while if I just ‘allow’ them.  Remember the old saying; “out of the mouths of babes”?

I finished and published my latest book recently, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. While I wrote the book with a humorous and witty twist, there’s a whole chapter in it about fear; an emotion and thought process which I believe has the single most profound influence on our lives and the decisions we make.

About a week ago I came across an amazing video by Bianca Gaiever. In it she ‘interviews’ a six-year old boy and the child, perhaps unknowingly, imparts some wisdom we would all do well to listen to and use.

Fear stops people from doing a lot of things in life; everything from entering into a new and perhaps life-changing relationship with an awesome guy like me, to never ‘being‘ what you were supposed to ‘be’ in life. Fear is so pervasive in our lives that people, as I said in my book, are even more than willing to express it in countless forms every day.

“I’m afraid we can’t help you with that.”

“I’m afraid if I do that I’ll get hurt.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

“I’m afraid if I go out with you I might really like you.”

“I’m afraid if I try to do ‘this’, (insert life-long dream), I might lose my job.”

“Be careful out there; it’s snowing.”

“Have a safe trip.”

You get the picture. How many of us have heard phrases like these all our lives? Fear will stop us in our tracks. Fear will make us back away. Fear will cause us to choose anything but what we really want.

I have a whole chapter about Advertising and Media in Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. Ironically, they prey on fear too; fear of what you don’t have, fear of not having the latest and greatest, fear of not keeping up, fear of inadequacy and lack.

It’s amazing how pervasive it is and what an influence this single word has on our lives. Yet here is a six-year old boy telling you how to get over that.

“Scared is scared of things you like.” He tells her this and it is a great response to her expression of fear that “it feels like her school is closing” because she is about to graduate. (Fear of change.)

Think of things you like, “pizza and cookies”, and fear goes away. Fear cannot live in an atmosphere deprived of fear. If you eliminate the fear in your life you would be amazed at what you can do and the different choices you can make. That is why I wrote Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone. It’s a humorous, witty look at real life and choices.

Ethan Holmes is the author of five books; Earth’s Blood, The Keystone, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes, Shorts and Other Laundry and Live Your Life In  A Crap Free Zone.

Follow Ethan Holmes Blog Podcast and for a chance to get a free book.

fear and pizza.Watch Scared is Scared here! Scared is Scared by Bianca Gaievers

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Ethan Holmes, The Paperman and Valentine’s Day

Paperman

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching. I’ve always had a problem with a holiday that, thanks to media and advertising, contains strong implications that my love for a person is directly proportional to how much of the following I will buy them; chocolate, flowers and jewelry. (It should be noted that may not be the proper order of importance depending on whom you’re with.)

Did you know that the deepest origins of Valentine’s Day are tied to an ancient Roman three-day festival that involved killing animals, flailing celestial virgins with the stripped hides and hooking them up, lottery-style, with a group of men, both hoping that the flailing made the women fertile? Kind of puts a damper on that box of chocolates; doesn’t it?

But I digress. I found a video on openculture.com, (see the Paperman link above or click here), that reminded me that I have always been and always will be a full-blooded, dyed-in-the-wool romantic. Never mind that, by the time I find the girl, I am going to be ninety-six years old and too old to do anything about it except invite her to Wednesday Rice Pudding Night at the nursing home.

Unlike the video, I have no paper airplanes to help me. In fact, where I live, there is very little help of any kind. The tourists who make up the vast majority of people walking the streets and inhabiting the coffee shops, grocery stores, Main Street gift shops and hiking trails are necessarily short-term transient; here today, gone next week.

The rest of the population, according to all recent census records, is overwhelmingly senior citizens and gay people. There’s nothing wrong with that; we all have to live somewhere. I just don’t date either one of those two groups; not yet anyway. Give me another few years in what I call single man’s hell.

Somewhere in my mind, years ago while I was evidently still lucent and hopeful, I was sure I was going to marry the girl of my dreams and live happily ever after. Let’s just say that I have only run into the women of my nightmares and through various and many poor choices I find myself, years later, pondering Wednesday Rice Pudding Night at the nursing home which suddenly seems like it’s not too far off in the distant future. It would be really great and save me some money if that would just happen to fall on Valentine’s Day.

I can see it now. My glassy, red-rimmed eyes meet hers, cloudy, glaucoma-stricken, peering at me from six feet away over a pair of the largest, most cumbersome set of bifocals I’ve ever seen. Her eighteen remaining blue hairs glisten in the soft, dust-filled sunlight filtering in past the yellowed lace curtains on the nursing home windows. I note a sexy bit of unidentifiable drool slowly making its way down the corner of her thin, pale lips and the way she playfully picks the broccoli off her plate and throws it at the nurse. She turns to me again and says something. I can’t hear her so I anxiously turn up my hearing aid, all the while eagerly anticipating hearing her say how handsome I look in my flannel pajamas complete with a pocket protector full of pens and pencils. I lean forward, eager to hear the first words I’ll remember for the rest of my short life. Ah, I have found her at last!

She points a bony, um, I mean, soft, slender finger at me and says, “Where the hell is the god-damn bathroom in this place?!”

Ethan Holmes is the author of Earth’s Blood (now available in paperback), The Keystone, A Multi-Pack of Brain Flakes, Shorts and Other Laundry, and his latest release now available in both paperback and Ebook, Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone.\

Visit Ethan Holmes at his website to learn more about the author.

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An Aversion to Shopping

Ever since I wrote Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone I’ve discovered I have an aversion to shopping. I know that women who own 127 pair of shoes and men who own every Ipod ever made won’t readily understand this, yet there it is.

I’ve always thought walking into a place like Sam’s Club or Costco must be the closest we ‘normal’ people will come to running onto the playing field of a major league stadium. These places are a cavernous, monumental testimony to the American culture of want, need and must have. The only thing lacking is a double line of sixty-year-old cheerleader/checkout people to cheer you on and a ten by ten feet stack of Budweiser cans to come bursting through with your shopping cart to the thunderous applause of your fellow shoppers. (Most valuable player would be the first person to get to the checkout counter and max out their American Express card.)

I think they should put you in a golf cart when you go to these places, not push a shopping cart at you. After all, you can already push around those eight foot flatbed carts. Why not hitch one onto the back of a golf cart? I also believe their should be an eight, nine and pitching iron in the back so you can get the attention of the store employee you caught a fleeting glimpse of between the dog food palettes half a store away. (What does that look like to you Pete; maybe about 110 yards? Hand my pitching wedge, will ya?)

Before “the economy” became something we whisper about in subdued terms as though we were pointing at a mutual friend who just got herpes, I used to go hunting through Costco looking for crap to buy. I felt as though if I didn’t own it I was somehow deprived. Little did I realize at the time that it was more like depraved. I would buy a newer, shinier, bigger set of stainless steel kitchen utensils despite the fact that I already owned a plastic set and a wooden set, (my favorite). Apparently at some point I was preparing to cook for a very large group of friends when I actually only have about two.

To this day I still own fourteen LED flashlights which I now must go to Costco and buy $480 worth of batteries for about every three months.

Advertising media had done their jobs well. I wanted. I thought I needed. I was fairly certain I had to have. Then “the economy” reached up and smacked me back to reality just as it did for many of my readers. I lost it all. Well, maybe I shouldn’t say ‘lost’ since that makes it sound as though I was carrying it all around and it fell out of my pockets in my travels. No, I had to sell much of it to pay bills when income dribbled to nothing, usually at far below market value and garage sale prices. That’s one of the reasons I said in Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone that the only person your stuff is worth anything to is you. If you don’t believe me gather your kids together and ask them what they would do with your stuff if you kicked the proverbial bucket tomorrow.

Have you ever seen the difference between really old grocery stores and the new ones. It’s stark, rather like the difference between photographs of me from thirty years ago and now. (Good thing I burned them all.) I recently had occasion to visit an ancient looking Safeway in a small town in southern Oregon. Now I know what it must have felt like when archaeologists first walked into King Tut’s tomb. (I wonder if they looked around and said, “Gee, it’s really small in here.”) That’s what I said when I walked into this place. It looked like it had four aisles instead of the usual twenty-four today’s stores have. It looked and smelled quaintly old with large black and white linoleum tiles on the floor that appeared to have boot prints from pre-Civil War days. Unlike modern stores, the cereal was five steps from the milk and the cleaning supplies were just adjacent to Wednesday Only Special End-Cap Sale of a Free Bottle of Aspirin With Every Four Boxes of Pantie Liners you purchase. (What a deal!)

I couldn’t find any statistics concerning the amount of grocery store items in a typical chain grocery from the mid 1950′s but I did find one source that said the average amount of grocery store items in a 1980′s era store was about fifteen thousand. Today that number is fifty thousand. All I can say to that is they haven’t been in a Fred Meyer store. Again, we’re back in southern Oregon and I walk into this place that makes the local Walmart Supercenter look like a master bedroom closet. Somebody named Fred really, really gets it about one-stop shopping! If this thing had apartments you could live here! There’s nothing you can’t find at this Fred Meyer. I went in there one morning at around 10 a.m. and looked at everything from snow chains to banana pudding. I could have rented a four bedroom apartment, (and I’ll bet they have them; I just couldn’t find them,) and outfitted/furnished the entire thing right there in the store. I could have topped it all off rather nicely with my very own Oregon Ducks key-chain and license plate.

Let’s just say that by the time I found my way out of that massive consumer nightmare it was 8:30 p.m., I was exhausted and it took me another four hours to find my vehicle. Next time I’m bringing a backpack and a GPS. (Never mind; you can buy them there.)

I find myself just going in for what old people call ‘the basics’. Even with that as a goal you can still spend a hefty chunk of income. Last week I was in Costco. I walked out with butter, eggs, coffee and pasta and I was $75 lighter than when I went in. I also came out with one less gadget/device/machine that was going to mysteriously implode just after the warranty ran out, ‘needed some assembly’, was broken already, required a call to a robotic call center in India or was taped back together with duct tape, re-packaged, (sort of), and put back on the store shelf to be sold to a sucker like me.

Ethan Holmes is the author of Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone now available in Digital Ebook and in Paperback.

Ethan Holmes has authored five books all of which may be previewed at his website.

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Did You Get What You Wanted?

Christmas of 2012 is come and gone; another season of want, desire, need, must have, should have, deserve to have. Did you get what you wanted?

I ddn’t. The fat guy never brings me what I want and it probably helps that I don’t have a chimney to shove her, …er, I mean it down. I’m entertaining the idea that perhaps it would be a good idea to stop ‘wanting’ anything.

There is a theory out there that coming from a position of want is coming from a position of lack. Many of us don’t realize that we really don’t ‘lack’ anything. Everything we need at this very moment is right there and if we don’t have it, we don’t need it. That sounds like a real good theory until you get to that spot where you really need a 9 mm deep socket to put that “some assembly required” gas barbecue together. Translation; another Christmas present that will go directly to the over-stuffed garage until you can get around to it.

A good reason to stop wanting is the simple yet relatively unpublicized fact that most people are really poor gift buyers; and I mean that both ways. I like quality, well-made products and I would sooner wait a year for a better something than buy a cheaper, crappier something now. This immediately makes me an expensive guy to buy things for and it’s one of the reasons I never ask anyone for anything or tell anyone what I really want.

Every year at Christmas you are suddenly required to purchase gifts for people you rarely speak to, hardly know and haven’t seen since last year. Combine that with the fact that you don’t really have much money so it all has to go on the credit cards. This explains the disgruntled, scowling, frustrated shoppers that pack the local Walmart. It also explains why you got a kitchen utensil set despite the fact that you hate cooking, why Uncle Harry got a Red Ryder BB gun even though he’s eighty-six and can’t see the TV and why I got a mini donut maker from someone who really likes donuts.

People are no good at buying presents and ‘the fat guy’ is no good at delivering them. So I’m writing him a final letter.

Dear Santa,

I know we don’t talk much despite the proliferation of cell phones. After my thirteenth faulty phone exchange with Verizon your contact finally disappeared from my list no matter how many times I backed it up. Anyway, I never received the Hummer/Lamborghini/Silver Shadow I asked for last year. Nor did I receive the three story grass hut mansion in Bali complete with high speed Wi-Fi service to stay in touch with the literary world and send my books out from the comfort of my island home. (I hope that volcano is still inactive.)

I looked all around the house trying to find the gorgeous girl from the local health food store. All I found was some moldy spelt bread, a box of turbinado sugar I forgot I had and some yogurt that expired three months ago. I also opened my laptop bag hoping that a brand new, extremely over-priced Macbook Pro would be gleaming in there. Apparently, like me, you didn’t have the three thousand bucks to get one. (I wonder if Steve Jobs will re-incarnate as a Chinese slave-labor child making three dollars a week working in a factory assembling Apple products.)

I think I have finally figured out that you’re just a figment of some bad Norwegian ale and three not-so-wise men sitting around a camp fire trying to come up with three good reasons why they adopted the life of sheepherders when they could have been oil traders.

So what I’m saying here is that I’m not going to ask you for anything anymore. You don’t produce and it’s getting to be like dating someone who won’t stop cheating on you.

To show there are no hard feelings I’m enclosing a couple of things I know you will really like:

One free seven day pass to Curves

Three business cards I found in my truck for local car dealerships so you can get rid of that stupid old sleigh. (What’s it got on it anyway; seven bazillion miles?)

One Guest Pass to Sam’s Club

One Guest Pass to Costco

A list of all the agents/publishers who rejected my works and told me no one would want to read them. I don’t want you to put coal in their stockings; I want you to put hot coals in their underwear while handing them a note that says, “People are buying my books.”

Well that’s enough. If I put anything else in there the TSA will want to investigate and the Postal Service will charge me $487.52 to mail it. ($9,238,96 if I want it to go priority.)

For more of the twisted humor of author Ethan Holmes read Live Your Life In A Crap Free Zone, now available in digital Ebook and paperback.

 

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