Won't you be my neighbor? Oh, okay, I don't blame you.

In the city, rural, or even countryside atmosphere of land ownership and the "neighborhoods" of the American suburban nuclear family, we have over centuries become accustomed to others living around us. Now there are two sides to this coin. Or maybe it's more complex than this, like 20 sided dice. Let's assume there are good neighbors, and there are bad neighbors, for the sake of brevity. We get a 007, Spy Vs. Spy glimpse into the lives of the people we live around, and vice versa, whether we care to acknowledge this or not. We are always somewhat aware that just maybe someone is watching and formulating opinions about you when you aren't quite anticipating that you are indeed parading in front of a panel of judges.

The reason I bring this up in the first place is what I think my neighbor thinks of me. It all started the first day we moved into our duplex.......I was "dressed up" for the evening, wearing my finest "I'm gonna drink until I face plant into something harder than my skull" outfit. I like to wear "many hats" so to speak, I dress nicely for work and try to look professional, I dress like an angry teenager when I'm going drinking, and I dress very Family Ties if I'm trying to look like a mature adult. Maybe I'm just too paranoid about what others think, but I gauged this situation ahead of time as I was first introduced to my neighbor that same evening. She's a very sweet, mid to late thirties single woman who has two dogs, and I couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a very, very Jesus-y shirt. Now I'm not against organized religion or the people who embrace it until it is crammed down your throat mercilessly, and I didn't get the impression that she was one of these people, and to this day has been nothing but friendly as hell. But part of me knew that my heavy metal, black shirt, house party bound ass was gonna be critiqued.

As of late, I've been too trusting of my puppies when I take them outside, and we normally run into the neighbor and her dogs when they are outside as well, creating a multitude of issues. I would love to trust my dogs without a leash when I take them out for two reasons. It's less work for me, and sometimes I just don't know when the three extra seconds it takes to put one on will be three seconds too long, and I get a steamy hot loaf dropped on me or the carpet. Just about the last ten times I've been out with them, it turns into me yelling like a redneck hillbilly dumb ass at my dogs who just refuse to do their business and take off on me over to her house. I'm sure all the neighbors love this. Here is the conversation I picture in any home around me. "Hey sweetie, that dickhead across the street is outside yelling at his dogs again. You would think he would have figured out to use a leash by now; he's obviously a very gifted young man. Does he ever wear anything besides pajama pants and a wife beater? We know how to pick the good neighborhoods, don't we."

So to my single middle aged friendly neighbor, I'd like to say I'm sorry for being a little retarded. I'm actually a talkative, mature adult, it's just been three months of showing you otherwise, so I'll work on it. To my neighbor across the street, I'd like to say something as well. Yes, I am outside yelling at my dogs again. Yes, I am wearing pajama pants and a wife beater, a lot. Maybe you wouldn't pick up on all the fine details of my daily activities if you would maybe try to find employment, or a gym and a salad.

The side effects of meeting an idol

There is a lot at work here, and I feel like there is great advice to be shared for the future "way too excited fan" that may prevent what happened in this photo from happening to anyone else who would like to look back on photo memories without cringing.

1. The nearly matching shirt. It's not like we called each other before the show, but you would think this at first glance. While we have never met in the past, one may choose to acknowledge that there would have been no way to know this would have happened. The best way to counteract "matching dude" issue is to always have a backup in your car, as you can't expect a rock star to care enough on his end to not match one of his fans. Take one for the team and help everyone else feel a little less awkward by taking the necessary steps.

2. Child predator/Serial Killer face. We all get excited when we meet someone who provides us with a great joy in our life. In this case, this is the singer from Karnivool, one of my idols, as I wish I could be a singer myself. This will never happen of course, because it would sound like what you might find Yoko Ono doing as of recent. You thought she was bad with John? You are in for a treat now. Regardless, you want to avoid this face for a multitude of reasons, as without a doubt it made Ian very uncomfortable, it made the person taking the photo uncomfortable because she knew it blew but would hate to ask to retake it, and now I have to look at my "I make furniture out of people" face every time I want to remember the show.

3. Bombarding the band in the alley after their show. Let's be honest, they were all sweaty and tired from over a full hour of kicking ass. More than likely, all any of them were interested in at that point would have been a clean shirt, some cash for the bar, some boobs thrown in their faces, and a little time to calm down before enjoying the evening. Imagine that you just walked off stage from a great show, and you're a little tired and uncomfortable, so you step out back to get some fresh air before you finish things up for the night. You open the door and feel the blast of cool, crisp fall air hit you as you step into the alley behind the venue downtown. Everything seems wonderful as you are on a large tour, making great money, and getting your name out there until you return to Australia to do your next album. You turn to your left and see some people near the street; they clearly know it's you and they are interested in talking. You reluctantly hold your ground and welcome these strangers, until you see matching shirt guy with child predator face walking way too Richard Simmons like towards you. This one encounter, without a doubt, derailed his entire evening, as instead of drinking Fosters that night like his native land would have preferred him to, he was drinking Blue Moon, and was more interested in going to a jazz club afterwards.

So consider this. Next time you are going to any event, whether it's a concert, movie premiere, book signing, what have you; take the time to prepare yourself ahead of time, focus on your photo face, and bring back up clothes. You don't want to end up looking like this, or worse yet, drinking Blue Moon and going to a jazz club on a Friday night.

Way to be current on trends, fella.

I think we can all admit that in one way or another, whether we would like to admit it or not, we're mostly creatures of social voyeurism. While we all have our own hot-button issues, opinions and feelings, an outlet of some sort is always a healthy or unhealthy way to vent and to be a sponge for others doing the same.

So here comes my old ass wandering into the fray of the social boxing ring, with the ever so self righteous, holier than thou "blog". I've never had anything I truly felt compelled to share with the binary masses or that I thought would even be interesting enough even for my family to read. I must admit I find great joy in reading what's on other peoples minds quite a bit, whether I agree with it or disagree, I appreciate people's willingness to divulge their souls for the world to devour, like an Aztec sacrifice to the gods. Honestly, at times these personal admissions are just as brutal. Before cell phones and the Internet, to get information required actual human interaction. How convenient would this be; you wake up in the morning, put on some crappy pair of comfy pants and pour some coffee, sit down at your computer and there are 35 other people in the room telling you what they are thinking about or what their plans are for the day. The whole room would smell like morning breath and sleep odor, and everyone would be crabby as hell because no one likes to be seen at their vulnerable "I don't honestly care about how I look right now" morning state. This is not new, or even relevant information to anyone. We all know we have the great "Big Brother" technological advantage at our fingertips whenever we feel so inclined to poke our heads into the lives of others, and I'm embracing this idea and returning the favor for all who have bared their souls unwillingly to me.

So this is it. The start of something that will be either some of the most horribly boring shit you have ever had the displeasure of reading, or possibly the Grand Canyon of too much information that will clearly be used against me as blackmail in the future. So the title pretty much sums up my rationale behind even starting a blog in the first place. "The Random Walk" is a term used in modern astronomy, to describe what photons do from creation to expulsion from the sun. At or near the core, they bounce violently at a very rapid pace being absorbed by atoms and spit back out, over and over again. As they near the surface, they are far less likely to collide, providing a stability in their path from the sun to us, in the end giving us all the much needed light that sustains us. Whether this can be viewed as a metaphor for our lives in any way, that's to be determined by someone who is light years in intelligence beyond my scope of understanding. But for the time being, it will be my own little tool of "expulsion" for all you social voyeurs.