Everybody and their ass has a web page now. I like to think that I was among the early ones. I have had some kind of a web page for about 5-6 years now, since I was in college. Only recently, however, have I realized just what a personal page is really for. Personal web pages are NOT for the visitors who read them. They are really for the person who writes them. Knowing that people visit your page and enjoy it or whatever is a good feeling, but at least for me, it is akin to virtual show and tell. It is a place to show off. One can show off what one owns, what or who one loves, share experiences, rant, exorcise demons, or whatever they want to manipulate pixels into. That is the power of the web, turning the largest grouping of information ever into a virtual, computerized, networked playground recess. This is what I brought in today. Wanna see?

To begin with, My name is Rob. I think I was supposed to be named something else, but there it is. I've never been particularly fond of that name, but whatever. It works as well as any other. I grew up in New Jersey, the much maligned garden state. I have a garden. It's mostly weeds. The area of New Jersey I am from is a pretty useful area. In 20 minutes I can be in the mountains, in 30 minutes I can be in New York City, in 45 minutes I can be in farmland, in 1 hour I can be at the shore. Lots of possibilities, but little motivation. Ironically, that pretty much describes my life...he he.

I have very little memory of my early childhood. I spent most of my time playing in the sandbox in my backyard, building tiny little roadways and tunnels for my toy cars to ride over and through. I rode my bike a lot. I went to a catholic grammar school, where my strange sense of humor, my larger than average size, and my ability to think independently hindered social interaction to some degree. So much of ones personality and confidence is either hindered or bolstered by what happens on the playgrounds and classrooms of the first couple of years of school. Even today I find that certain reactions, opinions and fears I have to situations are rooted in what happened there. "No shit...so what?" some might say. Screw off. Read another page.

See? I'm defensive. Call a kid a name or two and two decades later he's venting on the web. Now they come to school with heavy artillery.

So I moved on to high school, thankfully a regular one that involved no religious fervor. I had a tight knit group of friends who I spent a lot of time with, causing various sorts of trouble and music. I got little or nothing out of my years there, it was just passing time until life began. Given the chance to do it again, I would have approached the entire thing differently. I suppose everyone says that, but I could definitely had more fun there knowing what I know now. I didn't really know what I wanted to do at that time, I was just having fun hanging with my friends and making music. If you found me in high school, i was usually with a pair of sticks in my hand, mutilating some percussion instrument of some kind. I firmly believe that if everyone was issued a drum set at birth, the would would be a much more peaceful place. We all need something to beat on.

At one point, sometime in my senior year, the person I will ever consider closest to being a mentor to me told me I should be a music teacher. I thought that might be fun, so I spent a year in a closet surrounded by various drums and etceteras trying to master the classical and rudimentary forms of percussion so I could pass an audition to one of the most respected music schools in the country, Indiana University. To make a long story short, I got in not so much through my audition but through a network of  contacts, and before I knew it, I was packing my drums and clothes into a van and heading for the midwest.

I loved my time in Indiana. I learned how to study, how to be a master musician (which I'm not), how to live on my own, how to make new friends, and a few bad things too. I really love it out there. Everything I wanted to do was so close in reach..art, music, literature, my brain just soaked in so much that I still am trying to absorb it all. I left after a semester, and returned home to the vastly inferior local college systems. I joined a local band, played Eddie in a local Rocky Horror cast, went to local colleges, and just did very little of consequence with my life. If not for my good friends and the music I made with my band, I probably would have lost it. I had a variety of jobs, from record stores to selling electronics. I lived in Boston for awhile. One day I just pretty much quit everything but my band and gave into reality. I needed a real job.

So I finally gave in and got job with the phone company. Yes, I sell call waiting. I sell calling plans. I know way more about your phone bill than any reasonable human should. I make morons on welfare with thousand dollar phone bills get Caller ID. I listen to old ladies complain about eight cent calls to pharmacies they claim they never call. It's the worst job in history, but it pays surprisingly well. In addition, its one of the few companies you can work for that retirement is actually an option. I could do this for the rest of my life (hopefully in a different department), live comfortably, and retire with a pension. I have life insurance. I have stock options. I am what I always feared I would be...an adult.

There are upsides. I have enough money to do what I want to do. I can't fly off to Aspen, I can't buy a BMW M5, I won't be buying the house with the 4 car garage any time soon, but I own two pretty nice cars, I have all the gadgets I need (my other love besides music and cars) and I can be responsible for myself. How depressing...hee hee.

So here I am, 25 years old, single (you don't even want to hear about my love life) and doing OK. I have a strong mind, a strong body, an active imagination, the usual neuroses, and I have fun. I'm just as fucked up as the next guy, I don't hurt anybody, and I haven't put a gun in my mouth yet. I think that is as well as anyone can do these days.

It's not enough.

I have the desire to be extraordinary. I want to be memorable. I want to create. I want to see and do the things I don't have the confidence for. I have this gnawing feeling in the back of my head that tells me that I am meant for better things, for more than I do now. I want a real reason to get out of bed. I want someone to look into my eyes and wonder how they would ever live without me. I want to build a life that matters to me, my family, and to the people I love and who love me. And I want a Nissan Skyline R34 GTR Twin Turbo with a 800 watt stereo. Black. With Volk rims.

That's it. I bet you can't believe you read this far. I told you this would be show and tell. This is what I brought. I'll sit down now.

R.P.
04.01.00 2:16am.