Monday, October 12, 2015
THE ART OF SHUTTING UP AND LISTENING
First up to bat is a kitchen table made completely from a demolished Chicago back porch.
If you're from Chicago, you'll have fond memories of scurrying up and down these structures as a kid.
Most of them were structural death traps coated with layer after layer of shitty gray paint.
They were a Chicago standard until some frat boys had a party and a bunch of people plummeted to their death in the mid to late 90's.
That's when the city went ape shit and made everyone tear those monsters down.
Apparently Zacks neighbor managed to dodge the wrath of the city inspectors until very recently.
Zack loaded up his truck with as much of the porch as he could. It didn't sit in the shop for very long before we dug into it.
The result of inhaling a lot of lead paint dust and shaping a lot of rotted wood was a clients kitchen table.
The next challenge was turning a piano into a Dj booth.
The client didn't have much of a budget, but we took it on because....well, we've never turned a piano into a Dj booth...imagine that.
We had to make a steel cradle to get it to a workable height for a DJ as well as make it more mobile because the original piano wheels sucked.
We removed the top of the piano, flipped it, and re attached it as a shelf to hold records, cocaine, drinks, etc.
We cut out the front of the piano to expose it's inner workings, and framed that out with this giant silver picture frame material.
Lastly...a 1/2" thick piece of tempered glass to hold the turntables and mixer.
Friday, I was taking Max to see his grandma.
On our way, I stopped at a friends store.
I was chatting with my friend for a moment when he sprung on me that he had visited a doctor and was diagnosed with depression.
I was taken aback by this news and it's been festering in my head all weekend.
This guy has a successful business, surrounded by family, and from the outside seems perfectly happy.
I don't know depression.
I'm probably a great candidate for depression, but no matter how shitty things get for me, I always feel....I always feel pretty fuckin' good.
I'm in a constant state of struggle, but in my mind, that struggle is what keeps my blood pumping.
I feel as if shit got real easy, THAT'S when I'd be depressed.
I'm no doctor, but my friends news prompted me to utilize GOOGLE, and to my discovery depression isn't always situational, it's often chemical.
I hate doctors, and I only visit them if I'm facing imminent death. From my experiences with them, they mostly just offer up a battery of pills.
If I was diagnosed with depression, I'm the type to try everything under the sun before I take a happy pill.
Diet, exercise, yoga, vacation, skydiving, jerk off more...whatever.
It bothered my that my friend was depressed. I wanted to rattle off a bunch of Dr. Brian remedies for his ailment, but I just listened to him.
I listened because I care. Sometimes people need to speak to get things off their mind more then they're looking for you to rattle off a bunch of hypothetical solutions to their problem.
Shortly after my son was born, I learned from him that life is precious and short. I also discovered that if I'm positive and generally happy, those around me have a better shot at happiness.
I can't fix my friend. That probably bothers me more than anything.
I am glad that he took a step at correcting something he knew wasn't right about himself. That takes guts to do and is probably the hardest part for most people.
If you're not "chemically" depressed, you have the power to make the changes necessary to dig yourself out of a funk. Chemically...I got nothing. I don't know how that shit works, but if you're in that boat, it's up to you to figure out how to row that motherfucker.
I know this is a long post, but most of you lucky bastards have the day off. Not me. We have a long list of builds we're tackling one at a time, so HI-HO, HI-HO, it's off to work I go.
A special apology to my brother Kevin McQuaid, as I promised to try to work the word "butt-plug" into todays post, I'll make it up to you another time with something equally, if not more offensive.