I participated in my first Business Professionals of America State Conference yesterday and it was a blast!
I was definitely a theater kid in high school (ahem, drama club president here) so, between that and always having a job, I didn’t really have time for any other clubs or organizations. When I went back to school this time around, I made a conscious decision to participate in the kind of groups I didn’t get to when I was younger. That part of my adult educational experience has been magical.
I was president of the Creative Arts & Writing Club for almost two years, I’m a member of Phi Theta Kappa and my friend Erika suggested BPA as a relatively low time investment but highly rewarding and so fun. And she was right!
I ended up getting first place in two of my competitions and third place in another, which is pretty good for my debut! I got some solid feedback and it was all an excellent learning opportunity. I qualified for the National Conference in May, which takes place in Nashville this year, so I might take a little trip after graduation!
I totally recommend BPA for anyone who is curious about it. It’s a good place to network and the event itself was well-run and so enjoyable. I am not sure, however, how much more professional I am; my mischievous stripes just won’t seem to wash off.
This is my second year in a row going to the Loons home opener (yes, Allianz Field is an outdoor stadium; yes, our season currently begins in February). Last year, I wore normal ass socks inside normal ass shoes and I hung on to dear life like poor Jack Dawson; this year, I wore two pairs of socks inside winter boots that housed warming insoles and I have never been happier outside in 20° weather.
For the past few years, Minnesota United FC games have been my happy place. The world has been real dark and heavy and my personal life has been chaotic and ridiculously busy, but at a match I can genuinely achieve two halves worth of peace. I love the space and the people and the food and the sport itself and the phenomenal vibe all these parts combine to create, like a soccer Megazord.
I’m not saying that there’s no toxicity to be found here; I’m sure there is, somewhere. But, far and wide, I find Loons fans to be the most inclusive, intelligent and kind fans in sports. (Check out that massive Rebel Loon banner with the classic Andor quote: “We have friends everywhere.”)
Anyway, what an opener: our team looks fiesty as hell this year and we walked away with a 1-0 win and three more points on the board. I already have tickets to another game in May and am always looking to go to more. (This is my not-so-subtle way of letting everyone know that I’m your guy if you got an extra ticket. I’ll even buy you my favorite beignets.)
Also: I finally ran into PK at Allianz. Kids, dreams really do come true. Let’s have a hell of season.
It feels impossible to believe that in just about two months, I’ll be graduating from school with my AAS in Graphic Design. This unexpected and wildly rewarding part of my journey is coming to end.
That being said: I am currently and actively weighing my future. I’m bookmarking jobs and workplaces of interest while fine-tuning my resume and portfolio.
This post is an inquiry to my social circle: is anybody here looking for someone like me? I’m proficient with Adobe software, Microsoft Office, basic web building and CMS, with a ton of copy/writing skill and social media experience.
I’m a big believer in service and have over two decades worth of refined soft skills from the restaurant business. I care a lot. Some of my co-workers would probably say I’m pretty neat to work with. (They’ve never actually said this to me but I can tell.)
If you or your workplace is looking for these aforementioned qualities: drop me a line! Send me a message here or text or call at 507-210-1591. Even if ends up not being a fit, I’d love to see what is outside the traditional job sites and LinkedIn.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some homework to do. I haven’t graduated quite yet.
Am I about to write an essay about Hilary Duff and her new album, “luck… or something”? You betcha. But I feel like it’ll be worth your time, especially if you’re an elder millennial and thinking deeply about this era of your life.
Let’s make my musical roots clear: I love all genres of music, with no exceptions. Truly. Even country and rap, as the cliché goes. I have exposed myself to everything, and have an appreciation for it all.
When push comes to shove, though, I’m a rock guy; however, my whole heart belongs to pop, particularly of the bubblegum flavor. My first concert was *NSYNC at Target Center. I can still recite the lyrics to Mandy Moore’s “Candy,” a song I used to wake up to in high school. There is just something about these processed, sugary confections that rot my teeth but fill my soul.
Enter Hilary Duff’s comeback (can I call it that?). She released a new album this morning with a tour to follow (of course I got my ticket). And it is nothing less than revolutionary, and I want to talk about why.
When artists create publicly over several decades, there is often a (subjective!) decline in their work, for any number of reasons; one of the most frequently cited is a definite feeling of repetition, like an artist has been here before.
The rejection of this is what makes Hilary’s album so compelling. She doesn’t write these songs like nothing ever happened, which is common for pop stars in her position, who may hold tight to a desire to project their image as timeless. No, instead she leans into middle age, with all its messiness, melancholy and loneliness. She digs into family, friendship and partnerships with an adult spade, and expresses the unique wants and needs we discover as we get older.
One of those wants really resonates with me and I’ve written about it several times before: novelty. Or: the concept of new.
So many midlife crises come from this particular obsession. New cars, new homes, new friends, new lovers. But the problem isn’t the same old world around us; it’s how we look at it. It is possible to look at a street or a tree or a face you’ve seen ten thousand times with brand new eyes, if only you let yourself.
You don’t need to blow up your life, burn all your bridges, move-ah to Italy. You can apply a beginner’s mind to everything you do, every single day. A beginner’s mind is one that never forgets the first question we ever ask ourselves: who and what am I? The answer will change; it’s evergreen, always new.
And on this album, it’s all Hilary wants: to be seen as perpetually new. Not to be new, not to lose her age and lore and wisdom, but to be appreciated for her middle-aged, messy self every moment she’s alive. To want like it’s new and be wanted like it’s new. She shares these very real feelings on top of fairly derivative, ultra-produced pop but, personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Welcome back, Hilary. Thank you for keeping it real for those of us with deepening wrinkles, fading grays and increasing existential dread.
As a writer and an artist (and enrolled student) I get asked about my opinion on A.I. every single day. I want to share a slice of how I feel about it with you, but I have to start with a shameful admission: I recently missed a deadline.
If you know me, especially the me of today, the me who doesn’t drown his sorrows with wrung rags of wine, you know that I really try to do what I say. If I say I’m going to be there or answer the phone, it’s a safe bet that I’ll show up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed or pick it up. If I announce a project or commit to a contribution, you will likely see it or receive it with few exceptions (I promise there is still another volume of Brushfire coming and I could still make my musical film The Visiter! any day now).
For the past two years, I’ve been part of an amazing collection of short stories with some of my favorite writers. I was working on a story for the upcoming collection and I… just could not finish it by the submission date, at least not in a way that was satisfying to me. It killed me, but I had to admit to my failure and commit to try, trying again in the uncertain future.
Between the overwhelming pace and chaos of my personal life and the extraordinary weight and violence of what’s happening in my state, I just haven’t been able to write outside of my immediate self; I was also missing the only ingredient that matters.
Though my books and essays and stories that I’ve shared with you are all over the place as far as feeling and genre and plot go, there is at least one thing they absolutely all have in common: I find joy in writing them.
Not just joy, of course. I find despair and anguish and beauty and hope in writing, too. But I love to write and it’s how I stay in touch with myself, how I know what I really think and feel, and the more honest I am, the more writing loves me back.
Can you see how I’m going to connect this to A.I.?
I was having a conversation with a coworker last weekend and she wants to start her own business. Immediately, someone in her life, an A.I. obsessive, enthusiastically explained how much A.I. could do for her. It could develop a business plan. It could draw up a logo. It could even name her business for her.
But I want to do those things, she said.
We only get this one life, you guys.
We outsource our writing and wonder why so many of us lack a true foundation of sense and morality; when we don’t tend to our own gardens and sharpen our own blades, we wilt and get dull.
We outsource our communication and we wonder why we can’t hold deep or meaningful conversations, or engage in thoughtful and productive debate, or are able to just tell a good story.
We outsource our friction and we outsource our discomfort and we wonder why we’re bored and lonely and stupid.
They want us bored and lonely and stupid.
There is so much more I could (and do) say about A.I. but this is the most important. We are losing our humanity and it’s nothing like the movies warned; the robots don’t want to take over the world and kill us. The robots don’t want anything at all. They lack context and motivation.
The people who built them, however, just want us to not care at all. About anything. Not each other, not the planet we share, and especially not them.
When’s the last time you read the Declaration of Independence?
This isn’t a flex or a question of condescension; I don’t actually know if I had ever read it and our Constitution front-to-back in my life until this week. (I found this cute pocket version at my local Barnes & Noble.)
It is an elegantly styled and brilliantly written document, meant to be amended and to grow with the people and the times. But its core principles, the ideals that we have come to know as American ideals, are all there: Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. Human rights have been a part of the document (if not the country itself) since nearly the beginning. (The Bill of Rights is actually just the first ten Amendments.)
I didn’t know there was a “second half” to the Declaration, but I love it; it’s just a laundry list of complaints the people had against Great Britain, a giant “eff you” to King George III.
And wouldn’t you know it: the list of grievances is almost identical to the landscape we find ourselves in today.
The Declaration of Independence also has a really helpful reminder: when the government becomes destructive to its people, it is our right to alter or abolish it. And here’s another reminder: anyone on United States soil has the same rights that everyone does. Being a criminal doesn’t diminish your human rights, either; what a concept! If anyone loses their rights in America, so do you.
I attended an ICE Watch training class tonight. I learned so much; I want to be a better neighbor and this is a step in the right direction. The class I took was well-attended and, by all accounts, gave us the same information that everyone who participates in an ICE Watch class gets.
They repeatedly stress things that I think it’s important for the public to know. For example: they tell us to not interfere with enforcement, to keep our distance from officers, to remain calm, and to de-escalate at all times. Those are actually among the most important rules to follow.
Is ICE getting the same training?
Anyway, I was so proud listening to these organizers, most of all because their love for their neighbors and of community was so full and real. Authoritarians use fear; they want us disconnected from our neighbors, locked away in our homes and behind our fences, doomscrolling for infinity. We have forgotten irl community.
But once you get face-to-face, lend a hand, see a smile, share a meal: you remember. You know what is to be human again.
Pick up a copy of the Constitution. Know your rights. Get excited about community and the American Dream again. I’m about to (try to) read We The People by Jill Lepore, a 600-page tome about the creation of our founding documents. What can I say? I’m a nerd. A nerd who loves you all and wants you to stay safe out there.
I barely sleep, I’m stressed out all the time and I’m not sure how any of us can be expected to function in any capacity; never mind that the constant need to feel functional is just a side effect of the late stage capitalism.
First of all: hi to all the new people. If I randomly came across your feed this week (sorry about that) and you have no idea who I am, my name is Dennis. I’m a Minnesotan, I’m a writer and artist and musician, I’m sober, and I’m super annoying on social media because I talk about my feelings and stuff like empathy and kindness. It’s all very cringe and millennial-coded. Welcome!
My last post went locally viral and, to be honest, it was kind of a nightmare, until I figured out my comment settings. I dealt with a stack of hate from mostly bots and fake accounts; I knew which were fake because I’d click on one and it would have like 37 friends and their profile picture was Shrek and we all know Shrek doesn’t have 37 friends.
But: I also got messages from people who were grateful and relieved that there are so many speaking up and standing up and trying to do the right thing among the fog of fear and hatred and uncertainty.
I went to public school. I was born in Minneapolis and moved to Faribault in the third grade. In middle school, we had an amazing teacher named Mrs. Bisping and I remember her being obsessed with the Holocaust; not just teaching us history, but really having us empathize with the people who went through such inhumane cruelty.
This is how I learned about fascism, from a passionate teacher; it wasn’t the only way.
I also loved comic books, and Star Wars, and Harry Potter, and it didn’t take long to make the real world connection to my many pop culture obsessions: fascism is the opposite of humanity and freedom and love, and we should do everything we can to fight against it.
I’ve been seeing the phrase “both sides of the coin” a lot lately and I have something to say about that, namely that a coin reflects two equal sides. I think people use “both sides of the coin” because they want to appear to be fair and balanced and they’re afraid of offending someone; thankfully, I have no such problem. There are situations where there are not two equal, reasonable, compassionate sides and you fucking know it.
Do people watch World War II documentaries and, after they’re over, say something like, “Man, don’t get me wrong, I totally do think those Nazis did some bad stuff, but I also kind of get it, you know?” True crime is hot: are there a lot of Ted Bundy sympathizers out there? Not people who find him interesting; people who are sympathetic to who he was and what he did. Or how about 9/11? Would any of you like to “both sides of the coin” the terrorists who hijacked our planes that day?
Anybody?
Everyone is biased; not everyone is equally biased, and to pretend that they are is to flatten important differences.
I’ve seen and heard some truly inhumane takes lately, from people I know, from people I really cared about, and they hurt but maybe not for the reason you think.
When I see someone say something like “Well, if they weren’t stupid, if they weren’t out there in the streets, then they wouldn’t have gotten killed.” That isn’t objectively false; you can’t get in a car accident if you don’t drive a car. But it also sadly suggests that there is nobody in their life that they care enough about to get out of their house to fight for.
They don’t understand how someone could risk their own life for another; how they could sacrifice their own safety to help somebody else they care deeply about, like a spouse or a partner or a friend or a neighbor.
What a miserable and tragic way to spend this one and only existence.
Fascism is alive and thriving in America, and especially in my home state. I see a lot of people typing things like “if you support this, then unfollow me” and, with all due respect, I won’t be saying that. Because I’m already doing it for you. I’m ending my online relationships without saying a word because this is my line; humanity is where I draw it.
I remind people of this all the time but, generally, the artists and writers and musicians throughout history are right. This isn’t my way of dismissing arguments or making myself right by default; it’s to tell you that if you’re not an artist, you’re probably in the weeds. You’re thinking about rules and laws and beliefs you did not choose and all the shit that human beings make up to distract ourselves from the fact that we’re all gonna die.
Meanwhile, we spend all of our time thinking about our humanity; about what makes us human, about our most complex emotions and our simplest and most powerful, about what makes us happy and sad and angry, about what’s in our hearts.
We think more than anybody else about our souls.
Anyway, I’m a mess but Costco got a small shipment of my favorite frozen pizza of all time, and it’s the only thing that is preventing me from having a full physical and mental breakdown. I bought 15 of them. Lord help us when they’re gone.
Be safe out there. Love you all. I hope I see you soon, and I hope ICE is gone sooner.
This sign was posted at their Burnsville location today, on a Saturday, one of the busiest days of the restaurant week.
They’re closed.
I have found over the years that it’s impossible to reach some folks through their hearts because there are those who suffer from an affliction not unlike the Tin Man (tl;dr he didn’t have one).
So let’s try a different approach: this is going to decimate the local economy.
Because, for some reason (I’d venture educational or through willful ignorance), there is a significant amount of people who don’t know how America actually works; a country built on the backs of people that some of you choose to hate and fear, who keep this thing running and always have, since day one of this societal experiment.
We are going to lose so many businesses if this continues, and it’s not only going to have a significant economic impact, but a cultural one.
For some people, their whole experience of community and the outside world is through their local watering hole; they are invaluable third places, spaces outside home and work, where we gather and connect and nourish ourselves in more ways than one. They also employ millions of Americans, including me.
This will be worse than the pandemic on several levels; at least at that time, we were all trying to follow the same rules, and there was some (though arguably not enough) relief available for people who needed it. There was also a plan of action, which included updated guidelines and a vaccine timeline.
This, however, is a free-for-all, absolute chaos; the stories coming from our cities are heartbreaking and disgusting and tragic and there appears to be no end in sight. This cruelty seems to be the point. And we are all suffering from it, and will continue to until ICE and the federal goverment leave.
Whereas the pandemic affected the entire world, this is a targeted attack on Minnesota; we are being hurt by this administration on purpose.
I’ve worked in my restaurants my whole life and we tend to be very pro-immigrant, for good reason: we work closely with immigrants, and they’re our acquaintances and friends and for some our families and we know how important they are to our economic and cultural ecosystems. I spend at least a few minutes every day learning Spanish on my phone so I can connect a little bit better, though I feel it’s still not enough, especially now.
I watched someone yesterday try to justify why it might be reasonable, in some situations, to tear gas a six-month-old, and that’s one of the reasons why I won’t stop writing and speaking up.
Once again, I love you all; once again, stay safe out there (the world outside your door) and in there (your head and heart).
What’s crazy to me is that Jesus Christ was killed by the state for embodying and promoting such traitorous and terroristic behaviors as loving thy neighbor, no matter who that neighbor is.
What’s crazy to me is I have spent my whole life listening to people tell me that they needed their guns over our children’s safety in order to fight the government if need be and they are nowhere to be found.
What’s crazy to me is that we’re expected to keep living some version of a normal life when the federal government has all but declared war on us and our state in particular.
What’s crazy to me is that this is probably what life in Germany was like in the forties: unaffected people generally lived their normal lives while the Gestapo knocked on doors and hurt their neighbors and tore families apart and murdered people.
What’s crazy to me is that the same people who defied federal orders during the height of the pandemic because they felt they were unconstitutional are now telling us to just comply to unconstitutional federal orders and everything will be okay.
What’s crazy to me is that people think the United States can do something about Iran, when it’s clear that Iran is in the position it’s in because of the United States, and if the situation in Venezuela has reminded us of anything, it’s that the United States government does and takes whatever it wants and isn’t that interested in freedom or democracy, here or abroad.
What’s crazy to me is how many people have abandoned morality and continue to twist themselves into cognitive knots to justify any of this.
But what isn’t crazy to me is how many sane, kind, brilliant, courageous, beautiful people have stood up to say something, do something, be something.
What isn’t crazy to me is how easy it’s been to quietly cut online ties with people in my life. If you think that’s harsh, I’ll just have to disagree with you and declare: this is my line.
What isn’t crazy to me is that we’re not being quiet about our descent into fascism, and that art, past and present, has been a light that refuses to dim.
I don’t know what else to do but to keep aiming the light of my words on what’s happening here. It’s not too late, by the way: to change your heart or mind or direction. Love you all; stay connected and stay safe.
Like, the kind of essay that could cost me my job, lose me hundreds of followers, inspire wellness checks.
It was unhinged, full of rage and despair, my words as vindictive and cutting as a pair of scissors laced with cyanide.
It was actually pretty fucking rad.
I wrote it because I felt it, because I couldn’t stop feeling it, because I couldn’t stuff down deep how I was feeling, because writing and art is how I deal with life. And then I went to bed and woke up in the morning and decided that I didn’t need to share those words with the world.
Because that is actually one of the very few things only humans can do.
We are eminently capable of hurting others and also have the ability to choose not to.
Everyone has an opinion on what the teams are. Obviously, it’s us versus them, but how do we decide? Is it red versus blue? Rich versus poor? Up versus down versus sideways?
I want to make it clear that none of what is happening in this country is political anymore. The last decade has decimated the ideas of decorum and policy and that old-fashioned game is over. Instead, we have watched every person around us reveal who they are morally: through their posts and arguments and alignments and actions and what they actually stand for.
And it turns out that there are a fair number of people whose only ideology is agreeing with what Donald J. Trump and his authoritarian administration said today.
That’s it. They have no ethical legs of their own to stand on; their moral framework is unrefrigerated Jell-O, transparent and eager to fill any available mold.
And I see their words daily and their actions daily and I am reminded: a human being can choose to not hurt others.
And that’s when I figured out what the real teams are.
It’s human beings versus the inhumane.
That’s it.
Those are the teams.
And this is why so many of us are heartbroken and furious, crying and screaming into notebooks and laptops and cell phones and pillows. We’re human beings on the side of human beings, unable to accept the inhumanity of the world that is.
I wrote something insane yesterday because I feel insane, and I didn’t share it because I don’t want to hurt anybody.
That means something.
Honestly, today, that means everything.
And I have come to the conclusion that I could lose my job and hundreds of followers and be subjected to countless wellness checks but, as long as I’m on the side of human beings, as long as I retain my compassion and kindness and humanity, I’m totally cool with that.
I could die well with that.
Anyway, no human being is illegal on stolen land and America needs to deal with the shadows of its past, as well as its Constitution-shredding present. I could not be more proud of Minnesota and my community here; keep up the good fight and I’ll do everything I can to support you. All my love.
The Den 