Author Archives: Robert

This morning I returned to work after a fabulous week in South Beach Miami.  The weather there was warm and balmy.  Ray and I were splashing in the water on the beach, riding bicycles all over town, donning t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops while eating at outdoor cafés and to top it all off, went sailing on my cousin’s fantastic sailboat.

I noticed that the rest of the country was having terrible weather — especially back home in Bisbee.  I found myself posting more and more updates and photos on Facebook about how much fun I was having in the warm weather.  Yes, I admit I was being a little bit, “Ha Ha” about my good weather experience — OK, I was being a lot “Ha Ha” — as evidenced by what I found in my office when I got in to work this morning…

My office filled with packing peanuts or, “snow”.

The email confirmation for 18 cubic feet of packing peanuts.

A printout of the past week’s weather report (including the blizzard warning — BLIZZARD warning in Bisbee). There were also printouts of  my myriad “Ha ha, I’m having such a great time!!” Facebook updates and photos.

The random peanuts in the ceiling tile over my office door indicating that my co-workers had indeed filled up my entire office with “snow”.

Fortunately, they had only taped up the window and filled that up with packing peanuts. (Kudos to my coworker, ‘topher for his great freakout effect with the peanuts lodged in the ceiling tile.  For a split second, I really thought I was going to be cleaning packing peanuts out of my office all day.)  Actually, my friends did such a good job that the Facilities director had a fit when he saw it.  He really thought they crawled over the ceiling and filled the whole office.

But the pièce de résistance was the fact that my coworkers rigged a device over the inside of the door that popped a bag of packing peanuts when the door opened so it “snowed” in my office upon my return.  This is what happens when you work in IT with technical people.

I had such a wonderful vacation and was dreading going back to work today.  To be honest, this little stunt is a nice reminder of how lucky I am to work with such a great bunch of people.  I feel loved.

I’m not even going to try to sugar coat it. A lot of 2009 sucked for me and I’m glad it’s over.

The highlight of my New Year’s Eve was watching the Blue Moon rise over the Mule Mountains just as the sun was setting in the West.

I was joyous to see the moon smiling down on us. It seemed to be a reminder that each new day will pass and the crap I just went through will soon be a fading memory.

I am thankful to see this year end. Here’s why:

• I had cancer removed from my face.
• I had precancerous polyps and hemorrhoids removed from my ass. You have no idea what the pain was like unless you’ve birthed an elephant — not to mention the scary “C” word TWICE in a year.
• One of my best friends died suddenly and they could not locate my number so I found out four months later. I miss her very much
• I was bitten by a black widow. Not. Fun.
• A friend of ours was killed in a terrible car accident.
• My father died.
• I spent New Year’s Eve sick as a dog with a head cold and a sinus infection.

And I couldn’t be happier. Seriously, I’m happy.

Happiness comes from within. It’s a choice. A lifestyle to live by. Sure, all these bad things happened to me over the past 12 months, bad things happened to everyone this year.  That being said, right now, in the present, I’m sitting here drinking coffee and blogging with a warm kitty on my lap. I have a head cold but the post morning NyQuil haze that makes everything all comfy is humming away in the background. It’s a beautiful sunny day and I am blessed — blessed by the life that I have.

Ray and I are thankful for our friends, community, jobs, and all the other creature comforts that make life here at Stolen Horseshoe so awesome. We stayed home this New Year’s Eve and sat by the fire with the kitty while toasting the new year with Maker’s Mark Manhattans. Naturally, Ray made a delicious meal. NyQuil knocked me out at the Ten O’ Clock hour but that’s OK. I woke up feeling better than I have for days and I don’t have a nasty hangover. It’s a new day –hell, a new year — a new DECADE! So to end on a high note, I want to express a few good things that happened this year.

• I was financially able to upgrade my multimedia equipment (camera, computer, software, new guitar).
• I ran and worked out regularly to the point where I physically changed my body (for the better).
• Ray and I got a lot of DIY projects done around the house.
• I challenged myself with the Bisbee Idol contest and won.
• I wrote and performed my own comedy routine (which got me an offer to play the lead in a show this Spring).
• I began writing music again and kept up with my blog as best I could.
• I was faced with the challenge of nursing my dying father and didn’t run away. I really took care of him and he taught me compassion.
• I met and got to know all sorts of new and old friends on Facebook and in person.

Actually, I could go on and on about the good stuff from this year. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Don’t get me wrong, there was some pretty icky things I had to face in 2009 but it’s over and the mere fact that I made a choice to remain happy no matter what is what got me through it — that and some great friends, family and several martinis.

My father had been ill for quite a while.  He managed to live with his cancer for several years.  Over the past few months, things took a turn for the worse.  I have been traveling back to DC to see him.  The last few trips ended up with me caring for him — like caring for him as a nurse.  Giving shots, changing bandages, managing the hospice people, etc.  Every time a new hospice nurse would stop by, they would want to chat with me privately to get an assesment of the patient before seeing him.  I would always start out with this statement:

“My dad is a shit kicker.  He’s going to tell you how to treat him and he’s going to have things his way.”  The nurse would always tense up with defensive body language that signaled she was ready for a fight causing me to put my hand out and say, “He’s also very charming and engaging.”  It never failed.  By the time the nurse was wrapping things up, my dad would have her eating out of his hand.

“Oh Mr. Barnett, it was so nice to meet you — and your son.”  She would chirp. “You just let us know if there’s anything else you need.”

His main hospice nurse would always kiss him on the forehead when she left the house.

I was on my way home on November 30th.  I had been there for a total of sixteen days, with a four-day break back in Bisbee.  I bent down and hugged my dad.  He kissed my cheek.  It was an obvious “good bye”.  As I was walking away, I stopped short of his bedroom door, turned around and put my palm out.  He returned the gesture.  Our eyes locked as our spirits acknowledged each other in a wordless gaze that reassured us both that we were indeed saying our final good bye without leaving anything unresolved.  We shared all that needed to be shared, said all that needed to be said and he let me know how thankful he was not only for me, but Ray as well.  (Ray, is and always will be a saint! I could not have done it without him.)

During my time with dad, I was able to thank him for adopting me.  I’m the only adopted child out of six.  My father (and mother) raised me with as much love and care as their five biological children — there’s something to be said about that. I put them through hell as a teenager with drugs, stealing, running away, getting in trouble with the police and being kicked out of school.  It took me a long time to grow up.  After thanking my dad, he smiled and told me I was a great addition to the Barnett family. It took every amount of effort and restraint I could muster up to say thanks and get the hell out of the room so he wouldn’t see me burst into tears. I absolutely broke down and sobbed over that because I had felt like a failure to him for so long because of my past.

Back in Early July, I started writing this all down as one blog post that kept getting longer and longer.  I have elected not to post my writings about my father.  Instead, I’m going to make an attempt to make it a book.  Novel?  Novella?  Short story?  I don’t know what it is, I just know that it’s too long to be a blog post and to good of a story to remain untold.  My father took me on an amazing journey that had me laughing and crying at the same time.  I just hope I can organize my thoughts and get it written down.  It was pretty amazing.

There is one thing I have to share about my dad:

As he was rapidly starting to fail, he was having a discussion with my sisters about who was coming to see him on what day (this is from memory over a phone call so I may be paraphrasing a bit). We had family lined up to visit all the way through Christmas.  He started to fall asleep so my sisters left him alone and went down stairs. A moment later my sister Anne went back upstairs and quietly said with a soft compassionate tone, “Dad, don’t feel like you have to hang around just because people are coming to see you. It’s OK if you don’t want to hang on just to see them.” My father opened his eyes and huffed, “Are you kidding? I’m trying to get out of here!” My family has quite the weird sense of humor.

Well, he finally did get out of here.  Last Saturday my father passed away.  After the ordeal I went through, I was more in “relief than grief” mode. Without going into extreme details, I have to say, from my perspective, my father had a slow lingering death.  Being at his side, at times, was unbearable.  He had developed a fistula on his abdomen and it had become very productive.  Basically, whatever went into his mouth came out of the hole near his navel.  He needed constant bandaging and was in a lot of pain.  He knew he was dying, he had this thing that constantly oozed and he was in a great deal of pain…and yet he never complained.

That’s my dad.  The shit kicker.

I’m kind of checking out this holiday season.  No parties, no tree, no decorations and no travel whatsoever.  I wept a little when I got the news.  I had already done all my crying when I was with him.  It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with in my life.  I’m proud to have been there for him and feel privileged that I got to have full closure and a solid “good bye” while he was still lucid.

All of my brothers and sisters are awesome. We all made it back to see him. Some of us managed to go twice.  I talk about how hard it was for me but I have to acknowledge that it was just as hard for them — if not harder.

I am blessed to have had that experience and thankful to my dad for inadvertently teaching me an amazing lesson of compassion.  My father and I were fortunate to share a long period together at a level of intimacy that is undescribeable to anyone who has never experienced it.

NOTE TO READERS: Don’t wait to patch things up with a loved one.  Don’t wait until they’re dying to clear the air.  I am so glad to have had the opportunity to make peace with myself and my relationship with my father.  I was not close to him as a child, he left when I was twelve (but continued to provide for the family).  I got to know him a little bit better as an adult.  I am so glad I got to know so much more about him during the last few months of his life.  He was is a great guy.  Huge thanks to my friends, relatives and whatever higher power there may be who were there for me at a time when I didn’t know where to find strength.

Goodbye dad.  I love you.

A few months ago, after blogging about meeting John Leguizamo and seeing him perform. I was inspired by the experience and was thrilled to be contacted by Bisbee’s Obscure Productions shortly thereafter. They asked for my participation in their annual comedy show. I decided to see if I could take blogging one step further by a performing an original monologue.  From page to stage!

The show wrapped up this weekend. I really did quite well and feel satisfied with myself for making the attempt and succeeding. The performance was taped but alas, it was the Sunday afternoon matinée and the small, very sober audience made the gig fall kind of flat — OK, smooshed is more like it. In lieu of an embedded video, I have decided to post my script. Sadly, the timing and facial expressions (as well as my physical antics) are missing from the performance.  Please use your imagination. I have to give a special nod to Doug for inspiring me with the story of his friend who shares the same disorder with me that is mentioned in the monologue.

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Ramblings From the High Desert

You ever notice these days everyone seems to have some sort of a disorder or dysfunction? ADD ADHD OCD ED.

I was visiting my mother a few weeks ago. She was sitting there in her rocking chair doing her needlepoint with the TV blasting away in the background and every other commercial was for Viagra. Here I am with my eighty-year-old mother, Eunice, and the Viagra guy comes walking down the street talking to his reflection in the window.

Going to the doctor?
Yeah.
You going to ask him this time?
About what?
Our erectile dysfunction!

What really creeps me out is the fact that all the people in Erectile Dysfunction land are oblivious about this guy talking to himself.  If I was walking along in Bisbee and saw some guy talking to his reflection in the window about his erectile dysfunction, I’d probably — actually in this town, I’m surprised I haven’t seen that yet…but it’s only a matter of time. Dog, Cat, Mouse guy…Erectile Dysfunction guy! He’s not so bad. He’s just a big old softie.

Then the announcer does that whole fast-talking thing about all the scary shit that may happen should you decide to try Viagra. Heart attack. Drop in blood pressure. Stroke!

…well I certainly hope so…it’s Viagra…

Then, my favorite part comes on with the announcer saying, “In the rare event of an erection lasting more than 4 hours, seek immediate medical help to avoid long-term injury.”

Oh my God! I’m sitting in a room with my mother while the man on TV is talking about a four-hour long boner!!!

ADD ADHD OCD LMNOPD — I don’t know… These are real conditions and millions of people have them. I’m not trying to poke fun but I often wonder; are that many people really developing all these conditions or are we just taking normal personality traits and defining them as disorders? Of course I can’t really imagine a connection between Erectile Dysfunction and someone’s personality…

For years, I considered myself a very normal, down-to-earth guy. I’m not that complicated. It was surprising to find out that my independent little idiosyncrasies have now been categorized into some sort of “condition”. Yeah…I have a disorder.

You see, it’s no secret, I yearn for the attention of others…as evidenced by me standing on this stage. The desire to entertain and hang onto your attention is great enough for me to put myself in the spotlight — doing my own material — and risk looking like a complete ass. People say to me, “You just have that type A personality. You thrive on chaos. You love the thrill and excitement from putting yourself into extreme situations.” Well I’m here to tell ya…this is not thrilling. It’s scarier than shit. But I can’t help it.

This desire is not just set for the stage. If I walk into any establishment where there’s karaoke…well, let’s just call it a night ‘cause I’m not leaving until I’ve done Boots Are Made For Walking — twice. I also have a tendency to be Mr. Lampshade at parties. I get rather “on”. People frequently approach my partner of 16 years and say, “Oh my God! Cobban is so funny. You must love living with him. I bet he constantly has you in stitches.” To which my partner says, “Yeah…he’s a laugh riot.” Then he gently warns them, “I’m only going to say this once; If you keep paying attention to him, he wont stop.” I had no idea these traits have now been defined as a condition. I have CADD. — Center of Attention Deficit Disorder.

My diagnosis of CADD brought a lot of clarity to me. I didn’t know how much of a self centered ass I really was. My therapist says it was in denial. A couple of weeks after I was diagnosed, I was sitting alone in my living room kind of revisiting my childhood. You do that when you have an epiphany. Revisit the past and make connections. Suddenly everything started to make sense! As a kid, when I was alone, I would make up dialog in my head and then say it out loud with feeling. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just knew I had to find a way to make people pay attention to me.

Over time, I started to get sloppy. On several occasions, my mother caught me. It was so embarrassing having her walk in right when I was in the middle of a dance number. <<pantomimes doing big dance number and getting caught>> “…nothing, I’m not doing anything”, or a heated argument scene. <<pantomimes arguing and getting caught>> “…don’t look at me.” Eunice would just shake her head and close the door. Even though I was filled with shame, I just couldn’t stop doing it.

I knew something about me was different — the kind of different you don’t tell people about. At school, in the hallways, I heard them. The other kids. Whispering behind my back, calling me a thespian.

What third grader knows what a thespian is?

One day, our class decided to do a play. I went to parochial school. The story was a modern-day retelling of the Prodigal Son. I got the role of the father. Arthur Frontzak got the role of the son. We rehearsed a few times. I had no problem delivering my lines. Then something strange happened, our teacher, Mrs. Lawton, switched Arthur and me. I was playing the Prodigal Son. I was playing the lead…

From what I remember, the play went well. It all went by so fast. My first applause was like heroin. It changed me. Don’t be fooled by those elementary school plays! You know, where one of the kids is a big flower. It’s a gateway device that leads you to the harder stuff. I was hooked. The next thing I knew I was doing improv — never did mime though. I always stuck with the natural stuff. Miming…you don’t know where that shit comes from.

As I grew up, I was determined to become a star. Not just an actor, a star. I wanted to be famous. I did more theater, considered porn, joined a band and tried modeling…modeling…now there’s a fucked up business. Imagine being an insecure nineteen year old with center of attention deficit disorder and being at an open call where the agent picks up your headshot in front of everybody and goes, “Uhhh…hello! We’re looking for perfection…<<drops the imaginary headshot>> and you’re not it.”

It’s one thing to hear that once, it’s a whole different ballgame to hear it repeatedly. It really damaged me.

And really, modeling, when you look at all those magazines in the checkout line…does anyone really look like that? I have to tell you, as a guy; I can relate to yet another disorder, BDD — body dysmorphic disorder. People with BDD can’t stop fixating about a flaw with their appearance. It doesn’t matter if it’s minor or imagined. With all those unrealistically beautiful “touched up” models staring at us off the magazine racks, it’s no wonder people develop these conditions.

For most of my life, my one ear stuck out farther and lower than the other. Many people I knew said, “Oh you can hardly tell. You should love yourself for who you are.”

Yeah? Well, screw you. I hated it.

I’d see a photo of myself and my ear was like the first thing I’d see. There’d be this giant ear with my little head attached to it going <<vocal SFX: wah wah wah – like a glowing ear>>

It got so bad, I started super gluing it to the side of my head when I went out on dates. One time, I was in a hurry and I didn’t put enough glue on. Halfway through my dinner salad, the seal started to give way on my ear and it suddenly went pop! Subsequently, my date’s eyeballs also went pop! It was like one of those first and last dates. It was shortly thereafter that I came into a bit of money and went to a plastic surgeon and had my ear fixed. It was by far, one of the most painful things I have ever experienced in my life…and I’d do it again.

When I’m in the checkout line, I see the Men’s Fitness cover with the with the guy sporting the big pecs and huge arms (the guns) wearing a Speedo — because he CAN, and I think, <<full body droop>>  “I’ll never be like that.”

I work out, run and eat well and I will never look like that…because that guy on the cover goes to the gym for a living and has probably been Photoshopped beyond recognition. And seriously, I feel sorry for him. He’s smokin’ hot, filthy rich and can basically have sex with anyone he wants. He’s not happy…

Modeling didn’t work so, as a last ditch effort, I tried to screw my way to the top. The only problem is; I slept with all the wrong people…a lot of the wrong people. Note to self: hookup with the director, not the driver and the gardener…and the UPS driver — I thought he could deliver my script. I thought I had a connection. Some people screw their way to the top. I screwed my way into…the free clinic…but people payed attention to me. <<insert girlish giggle>>

I think what finally helped me learn to control me CADD was age. Yeah…aging. Getting older. When you’re young, all you can think about (other than yourself) is how life is affected by you.

“Oh my god there was an accident in the next county? I wonder what I was doing to make that happen?”

Young people ponder the great intensities and mysteries of life. What makes things work? Why do people act that way?? Why do these things happen to me in this life???

When you get older, it gets so much easier. You do not come to some grand conclusion. You do not figure out the great mysteries of life and how everything works. You just don’t give a shit anymore.

Why did that person say that to me??? ‘Cause he’s an asshole! Ta dah! Mystery solved!

Another great outlet for managing my CADD is community theater. This is like my methadone clinic. I get my attention fix in a controlled environment with professional help — <<looks offstage>> what? I’m running out of time?

<<moves front and center stage>> My name is Cobban.  I’m recovering actor and I have CADD….. <<to the audience>> OK, that’s where you’re supposed to go, “Hi Cobban!” Let’s try it again.

My name is Cobban. I’m recovering actor and I have CADD. ((Hi Cobban.)) Thank you for letting me share with you. You’re all part of my recovery.

I woke up an hour before the alarm went off this morning.  I laid in bed trying to shut off the dialog looping in my head.  The setting full moon illuminated the room.  I rolled over and latched on to Ray just as the kitty hopped up on the bed.  The white noise machine whirred away in the distance.  I savored that moment.  I felt safe — a feeling I have not had for a while.

The past few weeks have been troubling.  Both my parents have been ill.  Mother was in the hospital for a bit but she’s home now.  Sadly, my father is really starting to slow down with his cancer.  The doctors recently gave him a finite “months to live” period.  I’m going back to DC to see him next week.  This has been a very difficult period for me and my family.  It’s really hard to look into my father’s eyes.  They’re dimming as if part of him is slipping away.

Lately, I feel like a peeled nerve.  Every emotion is throbbing with amplification.  I was talking to my dad the other day and he told me his estranged brother called.  They have not spoken in years.  My dad said to him, “So…what are you doing?” and his brother replied, “I’m sitting in your driveway.”

My uncle lives in the Pacific Northwest.  Dad is in DC.  After all those years, he just showed up.  It made me cry.

Fuck! Everything makes me cry these days.  The worst part is the fact that I am doing an original monologue for Bisbee’s Obscure Productions Annual Comedy Show called No Shenanigans this *weekend.  I’m just not feeling very funny right now.  It’s been very difficult to write.  The piece is good but there’s room for improvement.  I tried to refine the material, make it better but I just have this sinking feeing in my gut.  I don’t have the energy to focus on making others laugh when all I want to do is sulk.  If you do see it, just laugh.  I don’t mind the “courtesy laugh”.  At this point, I’ll take all the laughter I can get.

Doing this show is part of my new “What The Hell Have I Got To Lose?” philosophy.  I have always dreamed of being an actor/performer/singer/songwriter/writer/photographer/dancer kind of person.  With my father’s declining health as a reminder that life is indeed fleeting, I have been challenging myself to get out there and do it.  Express yourself!  I’ll be damned if I’m just going to sit around wondering what if…

Last month, my friend told me that Oprah was having a Karaoke Challenge.  I recorded an audition video and submitted it.  I found out this week that I didn’t make the cut.  It surprised me. I actually thought I might have had a chance but I guess I was wrong.  The important thing is that I tried and trying is all that matters — seriously.  Even though I didn’t even get close to the finals, I tried and, as dorky as it sounds, that makes me a winner.

I’m not very religious but I believe in the power of prayer (collective positive thoughts if you will).  Favor? Just shut your eyes for a sec and think of my mom and dad.  Send them some good vibes will ya?

For your viewing pleasure I have included my audition for the Karaoke Challenge.  It ends abruptly because it had to be under two minutes. I’m going to dedicate this little performance to my dad (I would dedicate the song itself but once you hear the lyrics, it would be kind of creepy).

*Playing at 7:30 p.m. on November 6 & 7 and at 3:00 p.m. on November 8.  Central School Project, 43 Howell Ave. in Old Bisbee.

After four years of trying, I finally, finally caught a meteor with my camera.  With my Nikon D90 and a 50mm lens, I shot a 2.5 second exposure at f/1.8.  Orion’s belt is at the top of the photo.

Ray and I got up at 4:30 this morning, made coffee and set up in the backyard.  Sadly, the camera did not pick up how brilliant it really was.

This morning’s shower was the Orionids. There were several meteors in the sky but they were rather faint.  This one, was not faint and the camera just picked it up.

This makes me very happy!