Michael Paul Schneider

I’m not ready to go yet.

I haven’t been the best to myself. Sometimes I drink too much whiskey and coffee is a bigger part of my daily routine than working out. My mom told me about a young man at her church who had a heart attack at 25, and my childhood friend who had too much drink and lost control of his car, and when the prescriptions didn’t go together and C didn’t wake up. I think about these things a lot.

I think about the families, the friends, the spouses, the sons and daughters and the moments that can’t happen ever again. I suppose it’s morbid from some perspectives, but I’m more certain that it’s formidable…because it has allowed me to recognize that I’m not ready to go yet. 

You see, I love. I love and I hurt and I hope and I move. There’s no disease or pain that is haunting me, and I am thankful for that…because I’m not ready to go yet. 

I get to have these moments that remind me to seek inspiration when I am tired, to give when I have means, to hope when it seems futile. We are part of a story where superheroes wear hearing aids and the darkest hearts live second chances. You see, I’m just not ready to let go of that yet. 

I want to see redemption, to live the life that proves when you don’t give up, when you do your best, the rest will come. There’s just too much I still want to do here, so I hope I don’t get that cue, cause I don’t think I’ll never be ready to go. 

Note: Thanks to Family Force 5 for sharing this part of their story that inspired this blog. “He said he couldn’t look over to his left and not see me there because I’ve always been there.” 

To Hurt Less.

“Is he creepy…or are you just not interested?”

I remember that question so well because the girl I asked looked like a deer in the headlights. She just wasn’t interested, and no one was truly upset about that. Sometimes, you just aren’t. The only thing I asked of her after this was to just tell the guy how she felt. 

With the addition of so many networks, mediums, and the decline of the formerly popular methods- it seems as though the world of communication is changing drastically, and the scale is widening as to what forms ‘normal’ ways to interact.

Do I text? Do I call? Should I like that photo so quickly? Did I follow him too soon? Why did she friend request me? What did he mean by come over and watch a movie? What the klout is path and why did someone give it to me?

In the instances of dating, communication is probably the most complicated it has ever been. I don’t have planned a list of “best practices” nor much of a goal with this blog other than to say…communicate directly and honestly. It’s the least that we owe each other, because regardless of our intentions or efforts, at some point, it hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts because we care, because we put our minds and our hearts on the line for something that in retrospect may seem small, but in the same way that small victories win wars, small defeats crush confidence.

But if you communicate clearly, it hurts less. It hurts less when you hear it from the source than through someone else. It hurts less to know a clear answer than to be left wondering. It hurts less to hear a voice than to read letters on a small screen. It hurts less to be asked permission that to be owed forgiveness.

It’ll still hurt sometimes. You’ll still feel it, and you’ll still cause it - but because neither of us like feeling the hurt, can we just agree to try? If we fail, we fail, but right now, I just want to hurt less, inside and out.

Seasons.

“You and I, we’re both seasons you know?” she said. I looked at the crack in the sidewalk, fully understanding what the concrete was feeling as the divide grew. I replied softly, “what do you mean?” I traced the trail of weeds back and forth as I rested my weight on my right leg. “Well, we both have purpose here, we both make the world beautiful in our own way. I always have felt you were a lot like fall.”

Autumn is my favorite time, the leaves turning always make me feel at home.

“Well, I think you’re like spring.” I don’t think she expected me to respond like that…maybe she had a bit more to say but I’ve never been good at thinking before speaking.

“You’re spring because, ever since we met you’ve been a place that brings me new life…and I feel like I wouldn’t be me if you hadn’t happened first.” She looked surprised, almost flattered. Her eyes were watering and I thought for once that maybe I had said something that made the happy tears moms get at weddings when the bride walks down the aisle.

My optimistic thoughts were, as always, short lived. “You don’t know…you don’t know what I’ve done.” She was balling now, she wiped the mascara on her index finger till she found a kleenex in her purse. “What I’ve been through…you don’t know how broken I am. I’m like winter, Michael, I put the world to sleep.”

We, men, aren’t so good with these types of situations. I was panicking… I felt like throwing up. The crack in the ground had become a canyon and I’m terrified of heights. I didn’t mean for her to hurt from what I said…she is every kind of lovely I’ve ever known…and I just didn’t know how to say it, but I tried anyway,

“I apologize if it’s not my place to say…but I am in love with who you are, and though I don’t know all of you yet, I’d say you look a lot like me. I’d say you’ve been a lot of places I’ve never been before, but I’m not afraid of that and you don’t get to tell me that I can’t be in awe of you. You’re spring, you’ll always be spring, and I’ll wait through every winter till it’s your turn to wake.”

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This is the story that plays in my head. I don’t have the guts to add a name to the it…but I wrote this for you.

And I think it applies to a lot of us. We spend our time dwelling on our brokenness, hiding behind sadness, playing the role of the unchangeable, the unforgiven. I’ve become so comfortable in a place that’s low. Sometimes, I don’t even count myself as capable of the best things, but there’s a melody in my heart, and I think I’m finally ready to sing.

We may be mistake makers…we may hurt like we’ve been hurt, but when you’re ready, I want you to see what you look like to me. You’re a Texas sunset in a march evening sky (I’d know, I just saw one last night), and I guess, well, I guess I just wanted you to know.

What will they say?

“A can of worms” is what I would guess you could call it whenever anyone in this new city asks what I studied in college. Being on the artist relations team at a music/tech co, the assumption is always communications, business development, or engineering (?), but when I tell someone my degree, it often comes with what feels like at the ground level, judgment. 

The truth is…anyone with a degree in any ministry field should welcome judgment, especially from someone who has received similar treatment from what they were told represented ‘the church.’ 

In San Francisco, some of those who have felt marginalized are a part of the LGBT community. Take a few minutes, and look through history. Anita Bryant’s actions alone warrant a lifetime of disgust with ‘Christianity’ and sadly, she wasn’t the only one championing such awful ideas. 

The truth is…the way some ‘Christians’ believe they are representing ‘Christ’ is entirely wrong. Without even addressing the outliers like the Westboro Baptist Church, it’s unbelievable what passes for ‘Biblical.’ I often wonder, have you even read what’s in the Bible? Do you know what Jesus did? 

The New Testament mentions HUNDREDS of times to care for the poor, the widow and the orphan. How many times does it even mention homosexuality? 

Jesus FLIPPED TABLES, he spent time with prostitutes and the homeless, and at no point did he ever tell a parable about the difficulty of entering God’s Kingdom while in love with someone of the same gender. 

He DID tell parables about spreading the kingdom, selling your possessions, loving the unloved, being a voice for the voiceless. 

I’m at a loss when I hear ‘Christians’ condemn, and judge others for what they believe and feel. One of the beautiful things about Scripture is that it is continually relevant to where we are in present day - and in this case, we may not know a widow or an orphan, but we may know someone else who is marginalized for a completely different reason. In this case, we have one option: Love. 

One may say, ‘it’s not that simple, how can I support something I believe is wrong.’ To that, I will ask, why do you believe it’s wrong? Let’s talk about it: 

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Lastly, I’m proud of both of my homes, California and Washington, for continuing to champion the restoration of equality in America. 

I’m not going to pay for your adventures.

When I was 13, I started a band with my friends. We would practice almost every day and eventually held shows in my yard, community centers, coffeehouses, garages, at school and anywhere else we could as our friends always came to see us play. A few years later, we decided to take the band to the next level and record with the best local producer, Casey Bates, at his studio. At that time, his rates were unbelievably fair, but not to a few high school students. Our parents always supported our music any way they could, but they couldn’t do it financially. Thank GOD Kickstarter wasn’t around back then. 

I can hear it now: “What? Why? Kickstarter is AWESOME!”

Why am I glad it wasn’t around? It’s simple. At 16, I wanted something so bad, I spent almost every day after school and band practice, and EVERY weekend working at a restaurant, and saving saving saving every dollar I could, till eventually I had my share of the money we needed to record. And record, we did.
We crafted three songs, probably still the thing in my life I’m the most proud of, artistically. Not only were they great songs, but they were the direct result of our own effort, we didn’t owe anyone anything, and so when the show offers, tour offers, features on music sites, and eventually, record label offers came, we had earned them. 

The summer after my freshman year of college brought a similar predicament- a mission trip to Costa Rica. I’m not sure what you may have experienced with mission trips - but they’re often funded by bake sales, car washes, begging, and guilt tripping. The trip started in late June, so from the day I got home in Seattle to the day I left, I worked two jobs. Landscaping from 6AM-2PM, and hosting tables at a restaurant all the way on the other side of Seattle from 4PM-11PM. I paid over 80% of the trip through this 6 weeks of exhaustion. Why am I talking about this? Simply to show that these were things that I wanted. 

When you want something, and it’s for personal gain, it is your adventure, and your responsibility. I keep seeing these posts/events on facebook, full websites, blogs, tweets about often times even really close personal friends wanting to do these vacationsdisguisedasphilanthropy/personalgrowth and I am the last person to stop someone from going on one. I’m also the last person that’s going to hand you even a dollar that I worked for, so you can go play. 

This ‘Kickstarter’ ‘mission trip’ entitled mindset we are all encouraging doesn’t teach responsibility, it doesn’t teach any remote sense of a work ethic, and it definitely doesn’t allow the opportunity to fully earn and appreciate the experiences we have as a result of it. If you want to be a missionary, be one. If you want to travel overseas, call it what it is- a vacation. Grow up, get a job and work for a few months. If I can do it, so can you. 

Disclaimer: If you are offended by this- sorry, not sorry. I give to causes that are deserving and truly are needs. If you would like a few opportunities to fund, please let me know and I’d be happy to point you in the right direction.

Stories.

When I was 19, I started working with a non-profit organization that addresses addiction, depression, self-injury and suicide. I left college and spent most of my time on the road, sharing hope and hearing stories. The road is not how you may think it would be, my friend calls it ‘the land of distraction’ and distracted I was. Every day in a new city, which is incredible, but I really got to know what lonely means. So I was lonely, and I was addicted, and I was learning, and for once in my life I had something to talk about. 

And there was the day I met Lauren and she handed me her knife and she told me about the scars on her arms and how Jon’s words had saved her. 

There was the day that Anita Rose spoke so slow about losing her daughter to CPS because of her mental illness, and I didn’t know what to say so I just wept. 

Then there was that day where we lost Casey, and Anthony sang, “They Looked Like Strong Hands” and for a whole week everyone drank themselves to sleep. Then we made a t-shirt to help Casey’s family and someone bought it and he said he lost his brother and since then everything was broken. 

There were so many times where I just felt like giving up. I’d settle for a cigarette and an awkward attempt at composure, go back inside, and try and make it through the rest of the night. My heart got so heavy and my hands began to shake. Then, it was just me, trying to go it alone.

That was a season in life, and I’m still failing, feeling, hurting, smiling, breaking, but now…now there’s You. 

You forgive. You Guide. You Love. I don’t think I’ll ever understand, but I’m thankful for redemption, that my story isn’t finished yet…that I may be meant for amazing things. 

Adopted: A Family Matter.

My mom and my dad are incredible people. They don’t have jobs that would make you want to be closer friends with me, they don’t drive fancy cars, they don’t even have a flat screen TV. Describing them based on the things that traditional Americans value wouldn’t really be too flattering, but that’s what makes them so amazing.

I don’t know the reason, and I’ll never ask, but what I do know is my parents are unable to have kids. I also don’t know what it’s like to be so deeply in love that you are ready to bring a child into this world together, but if it is anything like the love they show to me, it must be incredible. I can’t imagine the devastation they must’ve felt when they found out one of the things they desired wasn’t possible, and I can only fathom the joy they felt when they adopted their first child, Danny.

Danny had such a beautiful little smile. That’s just about all I know of Danny, as he passed away only a few months into his life due to SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome). The only word I know that even begins to explain what I might feel if I were my parents is helpless, and maybe even hopeless. I cried like a baby the first time I watched the intro to up alone because I just thought about my mom and my dad and what that was like for them to experience.  

Yet, September 1985 came around they were able to adopt again, this time a girl, Lindsey Nicole. June 1987 was my debut, two more years brought Kimberly Renee, and only 11 months more, Steven Patrick. Some of my friends have visited my parents house in Seattle. Whenever they do, I always get a few text messages with family photos because let’s face it…we were like any other family in the early 90s…super fly.  That’s our family, four kids within five years of each other.

Soccer practice, piano lessons, basketball practice, cub scouts, flute lessons, drum lessons, brownies, youth group, Sunday school, paper routes, guitar lessons…we were supported, and encouraged to be who we wanted to be. It didn’t matter if it was a rockstar, a pilot, or an interior designer…the point was that we could be what we wanted to be and our parents would be proud of us regardless. We struggled, we made bad decisions, we used words we shouldn’t have, but no matter what we were still loved.

Though 4, and not 5 of us, the reality of our family is that my parents chose all of us and gave us a chance at a life it’s likely we never would’ve had.

Ever since I left home after high school, I’ll stay up late some nights and think about where I might be if they didn’t adopt me…if my biological mom decided she could be a single mom of two in that little navy town. Where would I be right now? Would I still be filled with rage when I witness injustice? Would I still find myself struggling every day to build a better me? Would I be moved by someone’s story to the point that the tears don’t come anymore?

I wasn’t born with this heart. I wasn’t born passionate, or joyful, or caring, or even able to speak. I learned these things, from a family that said that I, though often undeserving, am loved. It is obvious to me how much energy and love goes into to being a good parent, because I’ve seen it for 24 years.

During the summers of 2009 & 2010, I was fortunate enough to get to work with the Living The Dream Foundation on the Warped Tour. I met some unbelievable people, and got to share their joy as they got away from the heartache and pain they encountered on a day to day basis due to illness, injury or other hardships. In Salt Lake City, UT I met Dustin, Shalee, and their daughter Kaiya.

Dustin and Shalee are unbelievable…in the time I’ve known them I’ve never met anyone who even comes close to rivaling their ability to be joyful. Their daughter Kaiya has Downs Syndrome, but has entirely developed her parents’ way of looking at the world. The day we met I’m sure we packed up at least an hour early so we could hang out with them. I was more excited to see them than literally anyone else on the entire 2010 summer (sorry tour friends), and I have gotten to see their family influence the lives of so many people, including mine. 

After having their second daughter in 2009, they have since realized that their family isn’t complete yet. Two months ago, they learned about the next chapter in their lives, adopting a beautiful girl named Vika who also has down syndrome. The road to seeing this happen isn’t an easy one, and unfortunately has a heavy financial burden for them. I always knew there would be a moment in my life where publicly sharing the story of my own adoption would be valuable, and I think this is it.

I am careful, often hesitant to ask for things, so If you are able to help financially, of course, that would be amazing…but please join in their journey with me and share this page. 

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VIKA for the Booker family — Farmington, UT

Meet Shalee and Dustin Booker. They live in Farmington Utah with their two beautiful daughters, Kaiya (7) and Ryan (20 months). Kaiya has Down Syndrome.  They would tell you that If you have never heard the Down Syndrome saying “Angels are made of 47 pieces” that you could take their word for it when they tell you it is a very true statement. She is an Angel. A very beautiful, loving and stubborn Angel  They are involved with the Utah Down Syndrome Foundation and participate in the Buddy Walk every year. The Buddy Walk is a one mile walk and a day full of festivities to raise awareness for DS and funds for the foundation. This year, September 10th to be exact, their lives changed in a very significant way. They discovered they were missing a member of their family. 

At the Buddy Walk Shalee noticed an Easy Up tent covered in balloons and full of tables that were covered in photographs. After this tent caught her eye for the hundredth time, she wondered over with her daughters to see what was so exciting. This is where she was introduced to Reece’s Rainbow. She was learning about how in other countries, when a child is born with special needs, most are placed in over populated orphanages. They are not always properly cared for and very rarely have anything (toys, clothes, etc.) that belong to them. Their heads are shaved and they are sometimes left in bed, often by force, when an orphanage is understaffed. These few things are the most minor problems these children face in this situation. When they reach a certain age, typically 5-7, they are removed from the orphanages and placed in adult metal institutions where 90% die within the first year of their transfer. After hearing all of this and looking over the dozens and dozens of photographs of “available” children, she and Dustin decided right then and there that they wanted to help. They excepted the fact that they can’t save them all… But that they can and will save one.

They are prepared for this long and emotional journey, and know  it will all be worth it to see Vika take her first step on American soil as a Booker.

To Donate: http://reecesrainbow.org/27646/sponsorbooker

The Ladder Theory & Friends WithOUT Benefits.

Preface: There is a lot of “explaining” in this post and it’s a lot less poetic than my last… I hope you can make it through because the ending is important. Also, research on the biology of this will be posted in the Facebook comment section below soon! 

When you first approach the ladder theory, it’s easy to write it off as crass, crude, too simplistic and just downright ridiculous. The ladder theory proposes that men have one ladder. When a man meets a woman, he immediately places her somewhere on this ladder, and it’s entirely based on how much he wants to sleep with her.

Women have two ladders, the friendship ladder, that is also known as the ‘friend zone’ and another that is potential for romance. I’m using vague terms here, because the original ladder theory was definitely developed without the worldview of someone with morals. Regardless, the idea is that when a woman meets a man, within minutes or maybe even seconds, he is placed on a ladder. It’s very easy to move yourself from the relationship ladder to the friendship ladder, it’s usually exceedingly difficult to jump from friendship to relationship ladder. 

Now, I don’t want you running to google and diving into this site because honestly, it’s kind of gross. It paints an image of men AND women that’s…well, carnal. Yet, within this strange proposal, I have seen years and years of evidence supporting the idea that men and women operate attraction very differently. In the large majority of instances, for men, friends of the opposite gender are almost always still potential relationships (assuming there is no barrier event that has happened). For women, a guy could be at the very top of the friendship ladder, and still be less likely than someone who rates as a 1 on the relationship ladder. 

Whether its a guy who gets lumped into the friend zone and keeps on trying, or a girl who is sought after and dropped after the guy gets what he wants…these differences, from my observation, are the source of a huge portion of problems men have with women and vice versa.  

There’s one more dynamic that’s important to mention here- and that’s the way that guys and girls process physical. The ladder theory helps, because it brings to light what is a “natural” male desire, whether morals are in play or not. Let’s be real here- all guys in the twilight of their adolescence are, well, horny. Men hit their physical sexual peak in their early twenties, some studies even show as early as 17- where women don’t until their late 20’s. The sooner we all admit this, the sooner we get to a place where we understand how to operate under this circumstance. 

This is really relevant because there’s a huge difference in the way (most) men and women respond, or even are interested in the physical (meaning any range of activities from holding hands to sex). Women often seek emotional connection, where as men can (and some continually do) leave that off the table. 

This is the heart of the ladder theory…it’s the core of why friends with benefits DOESN’T work, and it’s also why it’s up to the guy to make sure it doesn’t happen.  If men can have a physical relationship with women and not “feel” anything, then how are women supposed to know if a guy cares about her at all? It’s also been brought to my attention for some that the inverse of this actually happens as well. 

If you’re in a no-strings-attached situation and you employ the idea “when it’s everyone’s responsibility, it’s no one’s responsibility” you can avoid defining your relationship altogether.

This is more than just a “responsibility” though…

It’s someone’s heart.

This is why I believe the guy must take the lead in the relationship and recognize and define physical boundaries within the context of the emotional connection. It’s not that women are incapable of doing so, by all means, I applaud women who are assertive and know what they want.  

You can disagree with me, tell me your friendswithbenefits relationship works, that you’re a guy and you’d never like your friend ______ and honestly, there are exceptions to what I’ve said here. Yet, the reality is, these exceptions may just be underdeveloped and it very well may change in time. 

In closing, the ladder theory isn’t gospel, but a good framework for understanding some of the ways that the opposite gender processes romantic connection. It’s not a formula in that it will solve your problems. I also wanted to be objective, apart form the places it’s relevant to have an opinion, for clarity’s sake on this very sticky topic. 

Let the conversation begin!