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I just bought my third Tough iPhone case here on pixels.com.

The main reason I chose this rather than buying a blank case like an Otter box is my appreciation of art, and pride in my own creations.

Is that ego? Possibly. It just makes me feel good to have people ask me about where I got the case.

I also love the process of making the original oil paintings and then have them printed on usable things.

Above is a photo of the three (3) tough iPhone cases that I’ve ordered so far from my own pixel.com gallery and art store.

The first one (on the left) is my newest painting, 'City Exposed'. I just bought it for my brand new iPhone 8.

The second one (in the middle) belongs to my wife and has been on her iPhone 6. It is of a painting I call, ‘The City and the Sea’.

I had my older iPhone 5s and the case with my painting, ’Pop!’ (on the right) for about 7 years and my wife has had hers for a couple years.

Together, these cases have saved our phones from breaking when we've dropped them at least a hundred times collectively. Maybe were just klutzes, I don't know. The phone seems to fly out of my hands sometimes, I swear! They seem to have a death wish.

I've even accidentally dropped my phone off the second story of my last house onto our painted concrete floor... and it still survived!

These cases are amazing and worth every penny!

Well, funny story, I just brought a new iPhone 8 last week, and while I was setting it up without having a case on there it dropped off the arm of my couch onto tile floor and broke the screen!

Shattered on the very same day I bought it!!!

About $140 later I had my brand new phone fixed, so I put it back in the box and didn't take it out until the tough case arrived.

Live and learn I guess.

~Alan Schwartz

There are moments in each of our lives which define us, and yet they do not usually occur when we think they will. These emotionally packed instances are not always our moments of reward for achievement, like we might expect or hope. The moments that truly build character and possibly even change the direction of our lives are sometimes hidden around a shadowy corner at rock bottom. In case you haven't heard, what happens at rock bottom does not always stay at rock bottom.

I created this painting during one of these pivotal stages in my life, and it happened to be made right when the metaphorical shit had hit the proverbial fan.

They say that when it rains, it pours. Well, back in my early twenties, a storm of love passed through my life and left me a different person. There are those who say they have never been fortunate enough to have felt love, well I have been blessed by several loves. It was one of these love stories that would shape my next several years. This adventure lasted a couple of years and yet felt timeless in its essence and was both magical and free. After things began to get more serious, within the framework of only a week, my life as I had known it had fallen to pieces.

On a Monday, this young woman left me with nothing but a broken heart and our pet turtles. On the following Wednesday, from falling asleep behind the wheel on Sunset Boulevard in the middle of rush hour traffic, I rear ended a car which hit another car. My car was wrecked and a complete loss, but everyone was okay, thank God.

Since I worked as a traveling art salesman and broke hundreds of dollars of worth of artwork and had no means of getting around, I lost my job. Immediately, I ran out of all of my money and almost all my food. I was living in Chatsworth in my first apartment which I had just rented with my former lover, and with her gone suddenly and no car, I could no longer afford to live there and I truly had no idea what to do. With a few baby turtles in a tank of scummy water and a freshly broken heart, I did the only thing I could think which comforted me, I took out my paints and brushes and got ready to express. What feelings of pain did I allow myself to experience, explore and express at that moment in time?

Anger; as I splatted black paint over a previous painting. I was angry at myself for my weakness and regrettable behavior. I was angry at her for not loving me back anymore, and I was angry at the other man who seemed to have what I didn't.

Sadness; as the paint slowly dripped down the canvas. Sadness turned on a dime every time I tried to change my thoughts. Sadness rolled over ever inch of the picture until it looked like starless midnight.

Hurt; as I tilted the canvas to redirect the streams of black tears. Hurt was in the underpainting as well. My hurt was undeniable and rooted deeper in my past than I could possible remember or fathom.

Jealousy; as I dripped and spurted clear medium in the shapes of mystical symbols from beyond over the newly blackened canvas. I could remember hearing the two of them singing 'Where the Streets Have No Name' together, and I wanted that song to disappear forever.

Guilt; I tried to clear up some of what I had done to the old painting, padding up the medium with a dirty towel in the hopes that some of the once vivid colors would show through the lonely darkness.

Loneliness; I realized that I grew up too quick during that time with her and her family. Life seemed to whisk me off to another reality in a twister of emotions and bizarre spiritual breakthroughs. I felt like I had crash landed with a bang in a world where everything was a different from what I knew before. I had too much pride to beg for mercy but no other option in my peripheral.

Emptiness; I had said everything I wanted to say yet not uttered a word of what I should have said. The truth was left as a mystery to her and yet hung around me like the scent of garlic in a purification ritual. What was I trying to purify? The answer repeatedly stung my heart like a trapped wasp. In a meaningful moment of sorrowful recollection, I realized that my pain was felt not only due to the breakup, but magnified by my guilty conscious and kept heavy on my heart due to the weight of my lies.

Sorrow; I heard the cry that day from my perfect inner child, who was sadly watching the older version of me through the looking glass of art. I watched myself crying on the carpet and on the kitchen floor as if life was over when she left me. The child in me peered out from the protected sanctuary of time as the semi-adult version of me opened the door to the Department of Water and Power and couldn't afford to pay the $71 to prevent the shut off of my electricity. I watched myself as I sat silently in the powerless apartment, hands blackened from paint and cheeks streaked with dried tears. I thought for sure that was one of the worst moments of my life.

Then, while I struggled to paint the face of the boy I once was, he was watching the sorry man I had become through this window in space and time that I opened. Well, I actually was referencing the boy's face from the cover of the April of 1974 National Geographic magazine which I had always been told looked like me. I couldn't quite get the painting to look like him or me, though. Instead, the face I painted looked strikingly like a boy named James from the 4th grade who had been my friend to my face but denied our friendship when confronted by other kids. That was the hardest year of my life to date, for I was being picked on by what felt like the whole class.

As I battled with my memories and tried to recreate this youthful face in blue tones, I realized...I was (am) still the same person as that little boy that I vaguely remembered being, even before my toughest year. I had a whole life to live and this was part of the ride. It was this realization that gave me the strength and humility to call my father for help. And my life changed once again.

It would take me years to get over that young woman and for that time my heart was closed to so many others who tried to find a home there. I did see this young woman again many years later, and it was in the presence of the lovely woman who would one day be my wife and the mother of our beautiful children. I knew in that moment that I was meant for my wife when, in the physical presence of this love from my past, both in the same house at the same time, I felt my heart caring more for the one I was (and am still) with then for the one that got away.

When was the last time in your life that you changed something major about who you are? Was everything going smoothly or were things at their worst ever?

It is my belief that people grow most in times of adversity, strife and pain. If you are alone, hurt and suffering, please know that the sun will rise on you again and life has more in store for you that you can imagine.

~Alan Schwartz

There are moments in each of our lives which define us, and yet they do not usually occur when we think they will. These emotionally packed instances are not always our moments of reward for achievement, like we might expect or hope. The moments that truly build character and possibly even change the direction of our lives are sometimes hidden around a shadowy corner at rock bottom. In case you haven't heard, what happens at rock bottom does not always stay at rock bottom.

I created this painting during one of these pivotal stages in my life, and it happened to be made right when the metaphorical shit had hit the proverbial fan.

They say that when it rains, it pours. Well, back in my early twenties, a storm of love passed through my life and left me a different person. There are those who say they have never been fortunate enough to have felt love, well I have been blessed by several loves. It was one of these love stories that would shape my next several years. This adventure lasted a couple of years and yet felt timeless in its essence and was both magical and free. After things began to get more serious, within the framework of only a week, my life as I had known it had fallen to pieces.

On a Monday, this young woman left me with nothing but a broken heart and our pet turtles. On the following Wednesday, from falling asleep behind the wheel on Sunset Boulevard in the middle of rush hour traffic, I rear ended a car which hit another car. My car was wrecked and a complete loss, but everyone was okay, thank God.

Since I worked as a traveling art salesman and broke hundreds of dollars of worth of artwork and had no means of getting around, I lost my job. Immediately, I ran out of all of my money and almost all my food. I was living in Chatsworth in my first apartment which I had just rented with my former lover, and with her gone suddenly and no car, I could no longer afford to live there and I truly had no idea what to do. With a few baby turtles in a tank of scummy water and a freshly broken heart, I did the only thing I could think which comforted me, I took out my paints and brushes and got ready to express. What feelings of pain did I allow myself to experience, explore and express at that moment in time?

Anger; as I splatted black paint over a previous painting. I was angry at myself for my weakness and regrettable behavior. I was angry at her for not loving me back anymore, and I was angry at the other man who seemed to have what I didn't.

Sadness; as the paint slowly dripped down the canvas. Sadness turned on a dime every time I tried to change my thoughts. Sadness rolled over ever inch of the picture until it looked like starless midnight.

Hurt; as I tilted the canvas to redirect the streams of black tears. Hurt was in the underpainting as well. My hurt was undeniable and rooted deeper in my past than I could possible remember or fathom.

Jealousy; as I dripped and spurted clear medium in the shapes of mystical symbols from beyond over the newly blackened canvas. I could remember hearing the two of them singing 'Where the Streets Have No Name' together, and I wanted that song to disappear forever.

Guilt; I tried to clear up some of what I had done to the old painting, padding up the medium with a dirty towel in the hopes that some of the once vivid colors would show through the lonely darkness.

Loneliness; I realized that I grew up too quick during that time with her and her family. Life seemed to whisk me off to another reality in a twister of emotions and bizarre spiritual breakthroughs. I felt like I had crash landed with a bang in a world where everything was a different from what I knew before. I had too much pride to beg for mercy but no other option in my peripheral.

Emptiness; I had said everything I wanted to say yet not uttered a word of what I should have said. The truth was left as a mystery to her and yet hung around me like the scent of garlic in a purification ritual. What was I trying to purify? The answer repeatedly stung my heart like a trapped wasp. In a meaningful moment of sorrowful recollection, I realized that my pain was felt not only due to the breakup, but magnified by my guilty conscious and kept heavy on my heart due to the weight of my lies.

Sorrow; I heard the cry that day from my perfect inner child, who was sadly watching the older version of me through the looking glass of art. I watched myself crying on the carpet and on the kitchen floor as if life was over when she left me. The child in me peered out from the protected sanctuary of time as the semi-adult version of me opened the door to the Department of Water and Power and couldn't afford to pay the $71 to prevent the shut off of my electricity. I watched myself as I sat silently in the powerless apartment, hands blackened from paint and cheeks streaked with dried tears. I thought for sure that was one of the worst moments of my life.

Then, while I struggled to paint the face of the boy I once was, he was watching the sorry man I had become through this window in space and time that I opened. Well, I actually was referencing the boy's face from the cover of the April of 1974 National Geographic magazine which I had always been told looked like me. I couldn't quite get the painting to look like him or me, though. Instead, the face I painted looked strikingly like a boy named James from the 4th grade who had been my friend to my face but denied our friendship when confronted by other kids. That was the hardest year of my life to date, for I was being picked on by what felt like the whole class.

As I battled with my memories and tried to recreate this youthful face in blue tones, I realized...I was (am) still the same person as that little boy that I vaguely remembered being, even before my toughest year. I had a whole life to live and this was part of the ride. It was this realization that gave me the strength and humility to call my father for help. And my life changed once again.

It would take me years to get over that young woman and for that time my heart was closed to so many others who tried to find a home there. I did see this young woman again many years later, and it was in the presence of the lovely woman who would one day be my wife and the mother of our beautiful children. I knew in that moment that I was meant for my wife when, in the physical presence of this love from my past, both in the same house at the same time, I felt my heart caring more for the one I was (and am still) with then for the one that got away.

When was the last time in your life that you changed something major about who you are? Was everything going smoothly or were things at their worst ever?

It is my belief that people grow most in times of adversity, strife and pain. If you are alone, hurt and suffering, please know that the sun will rise on you again and life has more in store for you that you can imagine.

~Alan Schwartz

I am not claiming to have achieved ultimate success or anything close to it, but I have learned that there is a recipe for my own happiness which I hope to impart. For me, success is not merely about setting goals then achieving them, it is also the friends you make, the lessons you learn and the love you give and take along the journey to achieving. If you are searching for a great recipe for success, here is what I’ve been working on.

An overflowing gallon of love (you can’t have too much)
A dash of inspiration
2 cups of focus
1 cup of fun
1 tablespoon of faith
1 cup of trust
1 heaping bowl of fresh kindness
1 teaspoon of tenacity
Stir it all up, starting with love and inspiration. While stirring, constantly mix in fun, focus, and faith. Add trust to taste. Save the tenacity for when the going gets rough. Top with freshly squeezed kindness. Served hot or cold, success is most delicious when shared with as many people as possible.

Prep Time: Weeks, months, maybe even years...

In the line of service, having a recipe (or plan) to create the life we want is a very good start, and knowing what value we bring to the table is essential. Having a plan without taking action is much like having ingredients but not cooking them. Ingredients lose their freshness and go bad without use. Make sure that all your ingredients are fresh, and get cooking because time waits for no one.

Alan Schwartz

Have you found your inner piece?

In the analogy of life as the game of chess, where do you stand?
Is your chess piece equivalent to a king, a queen, a bishop, knight, rook or a pawn?
What kind of stuff are you made of; hand carved from wood, finely chiseled into marble, maybe molded metal or plastic?

Thinking in terms of your daily decision making, do you tend to move in only one direction or pattern repeatedly or are you more flexible than most?
Do you tend to be direct and move straight ahead or are you always looking for an angle?
How many steps do you generally take at a time? If your answer is only one step, you may be a pawn or you may even be a king. How can you tell which one you'd be? Well, answer this, can the game go on without you?

Wouldn't you agree that chess is not just a great game, it's a great analogy for life? I know I'm not alone in feeling this, in fact there is a Chinese proverb that states, “Life is like a game of Chess, changing with each move”. Examine this idea for a moment...think about how your life has changed with each move that you've made. It certainly stands true for me, I have seen and felt the sting of instant karma when I've made bad decisions. I have lost friends for acting inappropriately, had romantic relationships crumble due to not prioritizing others needs, I've even been fired a couple of times in my life. My favorite firing was from my job as a waiter at TGIFridays for snapping the bartender in his rear with a towel. Although I've made what I've been told are countless mistakes in life, love, business, in general, I still feel everything in my life has happened for a reason, a master plan even, and I feel truly blessed and lucky to be where I am today. For example, even though I was canned from TGIFriday's, that is where I first met the woman who would become my wife, the mother of my children and the love of my life. So what is the point, exactly? Good question, let's take a look.

One take away is to be a good player, or in other words, to make wise decisions. I've been learning to be a bit wiser about my decision making, and the game of my life has truly been changing for the better fairly consistently, for decades. This life hasn't been perfect, although it's imperfections have always been just right. Whenever I've swayed or strayed from the path of peace, a strange guide of sorts, or a guiding force, has gently (or not so gently) nudged me to make a better move.

Another point of this analogy is to remind us to play to win. Winners listen to their inner voice of reason, and have a purpose behind every move. There is a reason behind every win, do you know what your key reason is to win? Speaking of winners, Bobby Fischer once said, “You have to have the fighting spirit. You have to force moves and take chances”. I see how this rule applies to all areas of the game of life.

Still, losers exist because there is in the game of chess, there are two results for every action, because each move makes an impact on both players. Not every action is created equal, some actions are moves for moving's own sake while others have the force of foresight behind them. The universe doesn't judge right move from wrong move, nor see anything loss as a mistake, but rather information which contains a potential playful lesson.

Just like everything from your computer to your relationships, chess has an operating system of rules, such as basic cause and effect. Thinking several moves ahead gives you the power to be a cause, and to affect your opponent. There is much to learn about mastering this OS, and believe me, my game has plenty of room for improvement. Once these rules and powerful habits of thought are assimilated though practice and repetition, mastery can be attained. I believe that if we study greatness and repeat good moves and patterns, the more games we can and will win.

One thing that is for sure, there has always been winners and losers. In chess, as in life, the winners are the one's that can see several steps ahead in their minds. The winners adjust their direction if they have to, but always have a target in mind. Maybe that target is to win, or maybe it is to become the best at what you do. Either way, the best players begin with the end in mind and essentially go backwards from there to find the winning steps to follow.

Maybe it's because I have been beat by far better players so many times, but sometimes I'd like to change the rules. What if we could make it so that we'll all win, together! I'll tell you, it wouldn't be a coincidence if we all won simultaneously, it would mean that either we had all mastered the system as one unified whole, or that we will have agreed to changed the rules, maybe even mid-game.

Check.

Are the rules in your mind, your work and your home conducive to every party winning? Does everyone get their fair share of the pie? Are you, and everyone, at peace with your piece?

Check.

Proposed new rules in the game of life:
1. You can be any piece, white or black, anytime, for any reason.
2. You can move in any direction you choose.
3. You can move any character as many spaces as you'd like.
4. You can change your course mid turn as many times as you'd like, although it's really annoying to everyone else.
5. Opposite colors are now best mates, not foes, and can share squares.
6. No one ever dies (accept for natural chess piece causes such as baby or dog attacks).
7. The more squares you share, the better, but there is no scoring system. Be an assertive sharer, just because it's the right thing to do!
8. Both parties win while playing if they are having fun.
9. The game is officially over when both parties agree that you are done playing.


Check, mate!

Naw, forget it, you win.

It's almost useless to try to change the rules... just to make the game easier for the weaker players. I should just focus on building the skills and thought patterns necessary to become a better player.

Peace,
Alan

P.S. Original painting by me, Alan Schwartz

Since I bought my house five years ago I have been envisioning ways of beautifying the landscape and creating a garden. The previous owners, whose art form was restoring classic cars and installing new engines (such as putting a Corvette Motor in a Model T Ford, but I digress), had left with the house an arched PVC canopy with a tarp for shade over the concrete on the south side yard of the house.

For couple of years I regularly enjoyed relaxing outdoors on my wooden bench in the shade of that tarp, either by myself or with friends and family. In time the tarp's color had faded and the sun had damaged the material so much that I was compelled one afternoon to tear it down and throw it the recycler. Now when I sat on my bench I'd be blasted by the sun, surrounded the stark white frame, by concrete, a stucco exterior and a tan brick wall. and a but I also had a vision. This ugly white frame would become the home of a vertical garden.

Maybe this is due to my years studying Landscape Design, or maybe I have an active imagination. Sitting on my bench on my side yard I have repeatedly envisioned this structure covered in hanging vines, drooping with grapes and wisteria, I picture walls of passion fruit and passiflora. I can almost smell the freshness of the herbs growing in the long pots that will line the frame along the side. I can imagine feeling soothing relief from the desert sun under the shade of vine leaves and the cool mist that irrigates.

Well, as the saying goes, ask and ye shall receive! This last weekend I acquired all of the parts that I'll need to complete my garden, for free from my neighbor no less.

Well, that was a blessing from above, and now it's time for me to plant! Have a wonderful spring!

We live at a time when those with the shortest attention spans have become the target audience for most forms of mass media. One of our biggest challenges as Artists is to maintain focus regardless of life's barrage of important responsibilities, time-sucking tasks and mindless distractions. If one of our goals is to achieve greatness in our heartfelt endeavors then we will need to be vigilant in building and refining the skills, tools and habits that serve to protect our persistent practice.

A message to the makers; we are the ones that rearrange the present to design the future. We frequently question the status quo and are ever diligent in our pursuits to improve...sometimes to a fault. Let us not forget who we are nor the difference that artists have made throughout history. I am writing this to myself and all those who are driven to create. We are capable of making important differences in people's lives. Art has and will continue to define our world.

Actors and Builders, Choreographers and Directors, Fighters, Inventors, Musicians and Painters, Salespeople and Sculptors...whatever your art form, every age must have it's masters.

Who has inspired you?

For me, I have my own artistic heroes; Alex Grey, M.C.Escher, George Lucas, Jim Henson, Ang Lee, Bruce Lee and Stan Lee just to name a few (that's a lot of Lee's). These artisans have each redefined their genre, or created new ones. By focusing intently and following through on their personal commitments to honest expression, hard work and artistic integrity, they have each achieved great heights as artists and humans. They have each created countless shining examples of works which have touched the hearts, minds and lives of millions upon millions of human beings. Not that they worked alone, they collaborated with and made jobs for hundreds, maybe thousands of creative and talented movers and makers. As innovators, they have each group-birthed seamlessly virtual universes...within which many generations of minds and bodies have dove into, fully experienced, learned from, and even incorporated into their deep psyches and dominant thoughts.

I can envision a day when I, too, will make a positive, lasting difference in the world using art of some sort . Like you, I aspire to use my own artistic skills to make an impact on the times and to affect others' lives in a positive way.

It is my belief that finding, taking or making the time to regularly manifest your own art is an essential ingredient to live a full life. Complete artistic immersion is always an ideal state yet rarely easy state to obtain. I find myself on the go all day long, go...go...go...and then I find it all too easy to be lazy at night.

As a father of two young boys I naturally prioritize my parental and provider-type responsibilities. For my sanity or my ego or maybe just to fulfill my sense of purpose I need to keep a bit at play and regularly enter into artistic endeavors of any type. My love of creating visual art has never faded, although not only in the form of painting and drawing. together, my family will make crafts together, or my boys and I will record and edit a video. I find myself making Mindcraft 3D paper models and Thomas the Tank Engine drawings almost every night, one for each boy. It has become habitual for both Avery and Wylder to request very specific drawings at the end of their bedtime routine. Every...single...night. I know that I'm setting unreasonable expectations which will be tough to continuously live up to. Still, I find myself awake, well past midnight, drawing characters that my kids love and talk about when they wake up every morning. I haven't yet changed the world , at least not like my heroes have. I've made only a small difference so far, but little drawings and letters with breakfast seem to mean the world to my little guys.

Now, our art may be anything, any type activity or creation, anything that we love to do or be or make with all of our emotions invested in it. Your art may be as a medic or a mechanic, a programmer or a plummer, even a garbage collector. I have found that artistry is in one's mindset. I hope you know what your art is, I've found that mine can be a way of being, a way of working, a way of thinking even. Where there is a possibility for improvement and you actual take on that challenge, you can achieve a higher level of expertise in your field. If you love what you do, while you improve, it is your art. Give it your all.

We may chose to do it (whatever it is for you) for it's own sake, or we may be fulfilling a destiny...only the ripples of time will tell. All we can do is focus on what we are doing, while we are doing it, and do it completely. It is only with our entire attention, focused singularly, like a laser beam, that we can achieve mastery and change the world. Every industry is open for more artistic heroes, those who continuously master their own style of it and change the course of history.

I love painting. I love playing golf. Is that so strange?

The two have many similarities, and yet I believe there is a common belief that Artists don't play golf and Golfers aren't artistic. I'm writing this to challenge that assumption and hopefully inspire a healthy crossover betwixt the two.

So here it is, both golf and art require skill, patience, precision and focus. Both can be forms of meditation and yet both can be highly competitive. Both have a serious learning curve (I never said I was any good at golf). And, most importantly, both art and golf seem to be deeply powerful in raising money for charities!

On the golf course, it's very important to get the feel for each of the different clubs. When the clubs begin to feel like an extension of your arms, that's when you can really use them to connect with the ball. The challenge is to master the stroke so that you can later simply adjust the size tool that you are using the get the job done right. So, too, with painting, it is important to have a wide assortment of sizes of brushes, and that they too become like an extension of your hand or the entire artist even. It is kind of funny that the term strokes is used in both painting and golf.

I know that golf is often associated to business, and it can be a way to socialize, that is for sure. Similarly, art openings are also social events.

I hope this little blog inspires you to think differently about either golf or art. I hope you allow this to challenge your preconceived notions about what type of person would be interested in either activity, and maybe even try something new.

My Mom runs Tri-Vally Investigations, a full service investigative agency in Santa Clarita Valley, California.

She wasn't always P.I. Cookie Diaz, although she was at least an unofficial investigator. In my childhood, that wasn't such a good thing (at least not as far as I was concerned). I couldn't seem to get away with much of anything without her somehow finding out about it. Even in the incidents when I thought I had covered all of my tracks, she still seemed to be one step ahead of me, possibly tracking my every move. Many of my friends, at one point or another, commented to me about how protective they thought my mother was toward me.

As a teenager, I was literally convinced that my mother had hidden bugs and cameras around my house...yeah, she's just that good. In retrospect she probably did have me bugged, or at least watched by her secret network of ninja-parent spies. When I would go out with my friends, I often thought I saw her car following me around town. I was in a permanent state of being on the lookout for her distinctive custom license plates...and not necessarily because I was up to anything that I shouldn't have been. Okay, let's be real, I was probably up to no good.

Well, I am an adult now, and I have a couple kids of my own. Ironically, I chose to marry a woman who is probably as protective of our boys as my Mom always was toward me and my two brothers. What seemed to haunt me as a child turned out to be a bit of a blessing in disguise. I made it through my young adulthood alive, no thanks to the circumstances I often found myself in, and I am sure I owe part of that to my mother for closely looking out for my safety, and spying on me and my friends when we were up to no good. Also, part of my 'luck' in life comes from that investigators instinct which I learned or inherited from my Mom as well.

I love my Mom, and not just because she is my Mom. She has always cared greatly about my safety, well-being and my overall best interest. It just so happens that she has some very well-honed skills of finding people and then keeping a close eye on them. Although I didn't appreciate that when I was younger, it kept me safe and has (almost) always made the world a better place.

I am happy to report that my Mom and I are very close these days, and my wife and I have made her a very happy Grandmother, twice. She is a fantastic Grandmother in that she makes herself available to help us out on a regular basis. Nana Cookie loves my boys as if they are her greatest treasure. She may be seriously addicted to buying gifts for my little guys, but I can think of many worse problems to have. As far as my own paranoia about my Mom watching my every move, that has settled down now, and I am also at ease about our government spying on us as well, thanks to the general familiarity of it.

Now, what's really interesting is that as my Mom's own hyper-protective nature has relaxed over the years while my own protective nature is now in full effect. I can truthfully say, for example, that my wife and I have the most child-proofed house that I've ever seen.

Isn't life funny?

The amount of content on the internet is absolutely unfathomable to me. So many people have so much to share, how does anybody ever really experience any of it?

The answer, I guess, is time.

We all have moments in our lives where all we do is look and listen inwards. Conversely, there are other times when we all search outside of ourselves for input in the form of other peoples' opinions, art, news, blogs, posts, updates, websites, etc.

It is all virtual reality, you know. We are but flies trapped in a chaotic web, rolling along the sticky matrix of coded creations, searching for a glimpse of truth. These codes may be simple or complex, I don't know because I am not a programmer. It doesn't even matter how many 0's or 1's we encounter in our quests through the online labyrinth, what matters is what our minds do with the data.

Isn't the most significant difference between this generation and the prior generations how highly technically assisted our lives have became?

One thing that hasn't changed at all is that there has always been unlimited psychological directions in which humans can perceive and utilize input. Take any work of art for instance...whether it be a song, painting, poem, video, story, etc., and think about the endless possibilities of perception. A poem can change the way we think in any number of ways. A poem could make a person feel less alone. Read by another person on the same words could insight an entirely new outlook on life, and a third person could glaze over the same words and be relatively unmoved.

No matter what you get from this, I hope you can take away an awareness of how you perceive things. What emotional filters stand in between you and the world around you? What do you look, listen and feel for? How does that serve you?

Alan