We All Should Care

Accept the call for a deeper purpose.

This rant is brought to you by Damien, Spider’s 6 year old son. He is the most passionate, caring person that I know. Young and old alike.

Out of somewhere (he has a train of thought, I can’t say nowhere) he says to Spider and I quote:

“Everything is made in China, and although stuff made in China is cute,the way they treat kids and other people is NOT cute.”

Do you ever think to pick up a product and look at the label, to see where it’s made?

Do you even know how badly people and especially the children, who work in those “sweat shops” making a lot of these products that we frequently buy, are treated?

Have you ever even given a second thought to it?

Damien has.

So, look forward to more posts from him, “Rants By Damien” is the newest addition to We All Should Care,next time under his name.

His mom may have to help him type it, but the tangent will belong solely to him.

Damien, you ROCK.

It’s been a while, since I’ve spoken of Spencer Bell here, and perhaps you’re wondering why, since I did, in all honestly promise a post a day for Spencer.

It hasn’t been that I’m being a slacker, it hasn’t been that I’ve lost the passion to show his legacy to the world, it’s that he deserves so much more than a lukewarm, mediocre post daily.

Quality over quantity if you will.

So why now,right? Why today?

Because after finding out that my grandmother is dying of cancer, reading Richard Bach, reflecting on so many things in this life…
I have been hit with something very bittersweet.

Bach believes, as I always have, that once your purpose on this planet is finished, that you leave this world.
Maybe to begin again elsewhere, maybe to look over the ones you love, all of that is left up to your belief system.

My point? If you’re still here, your purpose is unfulfilled.

Spencer not being with us, hurts so many,(His family, and friends that I cannot thank enough for sharing him with the world) and even though I have a harder time grasping someone being taken from this world so young, maybe he had fulfilled his destiny, his purpose.

Maybe it was to enlighten many about art, and how it should be.
Even though he was extremely talented, he was a firm believer, that music, and any art really, comes from the heart, the soul, it doesn’t matter if the rest of the world thinks you’re good at it, so long as you love it, and are impassioned by it.

That alone is inspirational.

His wit, his bravery, his unwavering sense of self that is very clear in his legacy, it is awe inspiring.

I know that nothing can bring those that were close to him comfort, that they miss him EVERY SINGLE DAY, every minute of every day, and that no reasoning in this world is good enough that he isn’t here.
That nothing eases the pain, the void that is abundantly clear every time something happens that makes them think of Spencer.

I also know that my mere words falter, so often, that if people could read solely what is written upon my heart, and embedded in my soul, that this message would come out more eloquently….

Since finding his Legacy, Spencer Bell has touched my life in ways that are hard for me to explain. He picked me up when I didn’t think I could stand, and forced me to persevere when I wanted to quit.
His legacy has introduced me to friends that I know will last a lifetime, his words, his art, his music resonate more loudly, more beautifully than the most professionally composed symphony.

Once again, Jackson Rathbone (FRIEND of Spencer Bell, human being), said it better than I could ever put it: ” my hero was much younger than I when my hero was immortalized… ” and then “…there’s no grave for the soul no vinyl coffin made of gold”

Every Friday, we have deemed “Spencer Bell Day” on Twitter.. but quite honestly, we should celebrate the life that this young man had, every day. When I started using the hashtag #spencerbellislegendary I meant it very literally.

Nothing, not even death, can hold him back from expressing the depth, the intensity, the erring human soul, that was and IS forevermore Spencer Bell.

[[image courtesy of spencerbellmemorial.ning.com]]

So all of you that read this blog, know by now that Damij writes for We All Should Care, but did you know that he’s a musician as well?
If I don’t show my love and support for my friends, and their passions, their talents, then everything I do in my life, all the soap boxing, it’s all in vain.
Supporting my friends is what I do. Although, if you ask Damij, he maaaay just tell you I’m a tad, pushy. *Laugh* Regardless, it’s because I know he houses greatness. It’s true. Don’t believe me?
Check it out! :

Scroll over it, and it will allow you to play the music as well. It’s quite, what’s the word he used? Nifty. Yeah, that’s it.
I love it!
In fact it will find it’s way to my myspace page as well, I’m sure.

We’re all very proud of you Damij, for taking that step off the curb, even though it’s scary. You’re meant for greatness, remember that.

I notice the things that so few do.
I go about my daily life in a plethora of emotions because I can honestly almost feel what others do. I call it extra empathy, in reality, I have no idea if there is a name for it.
I know that there are so many people that are perceived incorrectly by society.
They are thought golden, untouchable, happy, simply because they hide behind a facade. A mask of smiles, though it never truly reaches their eyes. You never see their soul, because it’s dark.
I know that look because I have that look.
That “empty, longing, soul searching, I’m never going to be fixed, but I wish I had someone that could relate, and accept me no matter how many neuroses I may have” look.
Sometimes, it isn’t a matter of being fixed, but merely, of having someone hold your hand in the dark, and walk quietly alongside you, to quiet the shadows, if only a bit.
Sometimes, we just want someone to hear what we aren’t saying, but we’re silently screaming.
I think Charles C. Finn can sum it up better than I can, so I’ll let him:

“Please Hear What I Am Not Saying”

Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I’m afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.

Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,
but don’t be fooled,
for God’s sake don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water’s calm and I’m in command
and that I need no one,
but don’t believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.

But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it’s followed by acceptance,
if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It’s the only thing that will assure me
of what I can’t assure myself,
that I’m really worth something.
But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare to, I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of me,
that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that’s really nothing,
and nothing of what’s everything,
of what’s crying within me.
So when I’m going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I’m saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying,
what I’d like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can’t say.

I don’t like hiding.
I don’t like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you’ve got to help me.
You’ve got to hold out your hand
even when that’s the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you’re kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings–
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!

With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator–an honest-to-God creator–
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.

Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It’s irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

Charles C. Finn
September 1966

If you feel this way, even if you never contact me, understand, that when nobody else does, I hear what you’re not saying, and I see YOU, not your mask. I try not to pry, but oftentimes I can’t help what I see without looking.

For everyone else? Please, do everyone a favor, never place anyone on a pedestal. We are merely human, no matter how pretty and golden we are, we are not made of marble, we cannot sit still for an eternity, and we will fall.
The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall.
Remember that the one hurting, may atypically be you, but genuinely wounded will be the one you chose to deify.

Alright, where are my fellow “tweeters” at?
That either sounds dirty, or like we’re druggies. Either way lol
Come join me on Twitter today, as I have declared it Spencer Bell Day!
We are going to get the trending topic to be #spencerbellislegendary, and tweet about how incredible his legacy is, all day.
With bouts of humor, probably dreadful jokes mixed in, and lots of heart felt emotion.
My Spencerian Army thus far?
Add us all.

@SpencerBell

@Willow_Raine

@taylor_blue

@hello_jodie

@Damij

@pconway6

We’d appreciate the help, love,and support for Spencer, and Adrenal Cancer Awareness.

Everyone has instilled into your brain that New York is the city that doesn’t sleep, that you can apparently get steamed dumplings and electricians around the clock. However, when I visited [fabulous] NYC in August of 2007, I found that the only thing within walking distance of my hotel (Hotel Pennsylvania) that was open at 3 A.M was McDonalds in Times Square.

The city (besides the rats larger than my teacup Chihuahua) seemed deserted and peaceful. Times Square was still very lighted and colorful, yet the only thing open was McDonalds.

Meanwhile, if you were to head west to Las Vegas you would find that you can get not only booze, girls and poker chips at 3 A.M. but you can also get a ride on a roller coaster and entrance into “after hours” clubs that stay open until daylight. You don’t have to settle for room service when you can get a full service buffet or a four star dining experience at any hour and I’m willing to bet in this city of lights that you would be able to find an electrician at 3 A.M.

I guess I should say that you should see for yourself, but I’m just wondering how NYC got this reputation when I’ve been to both and Vegas is clearly the city that parties all night.

Have you been to either? What are your opinions on the city that doesn’t sleep?

If there is one thing I hate in this world (oh, lord, who am I kidding, there’s way more than one thing I hate in this world) it’s people who jump on bandwagons.

For those who are a little lost on what I’m talking about, Princeton’s example from their website defines a bandwagon as “a popular trend that attracts growing support; “when they saw how things were going everybody jumped on the bandwagon”.”

I’ve mostly experienced bandwagoners (yes, I just made that word up) with musical acts. The greatest example of bandwagonism (yep, made up that one too) that stands out in my opinion? In 2002 my [at the time] friends and I met Uncle Kracker and Kid Rock. While I had already had Kid Rock’s album for a very long time, after the Uncle Kracker and Kid shows, my friends went out and bought their entire musical catalogue. Even though they were more into boy bands at the time, just because we met them.

I’m not sure if they thought it would impress them the next time we met them, or what. It pissed me off, that’s all I know. They didn’t genuinely like them, they were disgusted with Uncle Kracker just hours before we met him, so what changed? A bandwagon.

These ‘friends’ proceeded to do that with many musical artists.

I feel that if you attend a concert and are introduced to new music that you actually like, sure, go ahead and buy their sounds. But, I think you should be honest with yourself and not try and impress others or the band because you’re going to end up looking like a fool to others.

I also have found a lot of bandwagoners with the vampire community. The vampire community has been around for many, many years and now it seems that everyone is jumping on the blood-suckers movement. I can say in all honesty that I have been obsessed with vampires since I was a little girl. While everyone was dressing up as princesses and fairies, I was a vampire. While everyone was watching Cinderella, I was watching Interview with a Vampire.

Please don’t get me wrong, I love turning people onto Anne Rice and Twilight more than anything in this world, but I feel that that is more like opening their eyes, not setting them on a bandwagon and telling them to go to the fair.

My current bandwagon complaint is about people who wear plaid for it’s popularity. These are the same people who made fun of Jackson Rathbone and Robert Pattinson just months earlier for living in plaid. Meanwhile, I want to point to my plaid shoes, of which I’ve admired for years.

The title of this post comes from a lyric in Fall Out Boy’s “This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race” in which Pete Wentz wrote the song when he was frustrated with the “emo scene” that the band was associated with. The lyrics refer to those who blindly followed the trend.

I think that everyone needs to sit back, relax and like things for liking them. Not because it’s Cosmopolitan’s hot pick of the month, not because some blogger told you to buy it, not because there are screaming fangirls all over it, but because it’s awesome, because it fits your unique personality and because you want to. You’ll be happier and more zen that way. I promise.

[[image courtesy of google.com/images]]

If only dancing around your living room and singing loudly into a broom handle could be a competitive sport, I’d be in the Olympics!
Earlier today, I was cleaning house, I popped in my, Spencer Bell Live & Wasted Album, and I sang and danced my heart out.
No kidding. I know all the words, and I may not sing them on key, I may even change a word or two on occasion but I don’t think Spencer minds, because I enjoy myself.
I enjoy his music.
I celebrate his life every single day,and listening to his music just brings a smile to my face.
Since I’ve “met” him, my life has started changing so much, in so many ways, and I keep saying it, but one day, Spencer, you’re stuck drinking with me, so prepare yourself!
There is a lot of new stuff happening on the Legacy site, you should go check it out, they’ve even added new works of Spencer’s.
Hurry and go now, LEGACY SITE or you’ll be sorry that you didn’t! If you haven’t been before,consider this, he has me bopping around the house singing his music, imagine what he could do for you!
He’s better than Tony Robbins ever had time to be, and he tells it real, like it is, no sugar coating! If you want to donate for research to help find a cure for the POS cancer that yanked this beautiful young man away from this world far too damn soon, go here –>CANCER BLOWS.
Every bit makes a difference!

[[Image courtesy of google images]]

When I was asked to write for this self-proclaimed “soap box” site, I wondered if I would be able to keep up and be up to par with Willow Raine, one of the best writers I have ever had the honor of knowing personally. I wondered if I would be able to even come up with topics. Willow is a plethora of topics to “soap box” about. I thought that I would mostly complain about tap water, glitter on strippers, the music industry… but today a topic I love to “soap box” about struck me.

It’s not so much that I “love” to “soap box” about this topic, it’s just that it’s very important to me.

My entire life I sat back and watched people get hurt and I didn’t do a damn thing about it. I would be ashamed to admit that now if I didn’t do everything in my power to right the wronged ways of my past. When I was a child I watched as my friends told me of their abusive parents and I felt trapped and unable to help them. I watched as my best friends brother was cruel to an animal…

Now? Now I do not stand for that. Now I will not allow it.

I have child protective services and animal shelters on my speed dial and if someone so much as raises a hand at a child or animal I am already dialing. Admittedly, I am more trigger happy with animal shelters and abuse towards dogs than I am with children. It’s mostly because animals don’t have a voice of their own, and if I don’t speak up for the, let’s say, dog, then who will? No one. People will watch a dog get smacked around by it’s owner and not think anything of it. Think, “it’s their dog, they can do with it what they want to.” Except that they CAN’T. Animals have rights, needs and feelings too.

My Grandmother tried to tell me that dogs don’t have a soul. So doesn’t that mean that when my 3-year-old teacup Chihuahua, Bella, dies that she’ll not go onto a better life? Tell me how in the world I could think that of her when she cries because I travel, she gets excited and loves me when I come home and she was the one who sat there worrying about me, trying to lick away my tears when DJ AM passed away? Does that sound like something with no soul?

I fight for animal rights and I call animal shelters and protective services because of Bella. Because I am lucky that I got her and she’s lucky that she got me. She could have gone to a home where she wouldn’t be fawned over and completely pampered, she could have gone to a bad home. To a home that wouldn’t love her and worship her tiny little paws.

Now children? They have no choice over the home that they go to.

I have a very low tolerance for child abuse. It makes me absolutely sick. Twice I have called child protective services and twice children have been removed from abusive homes because of it. I feel both proud and guilty for that statement.

Making a call to DCFS is easy but it’s painful. You know that neither the child, nor the parents life will ever be the same again. Animals are easier; they get removed and they go to a [no kill] shelter where someone new adopts them and they have a happy life. Children get removed and put into foster homes, therapy… Parents can get arrested. Lives can be torn apart.

But what is worse? Knowing that you did everything in your power and someday that kid will grow up and think, “wow, someone actually cared enough about me to take me away from that.” Or sitting there and doing nothing, knowing that someone – a CHILD – is being abused?

I think that if you sit there and do nothing to help the child then you are just as bad as the one doing the abusing. You aren’t doing anything to stop it, you know it’s going on… it’s wrong. You have the power to do something and you don’t? Why? You’re a coward? You’re scared of what will happen to the family? But what happens to that child if you don’t? Mommy comes home from work extra mad and hits her baby extra hard and then what? Then you feel guilty for the rest of your life knowing that you could have done something to help… but you didn’t.

Do something. Help.

Call this number if you know of a child being abused: 1-800-4-A-CHILD
Domestic violence hotline: 1−800−799−SAFE
And check out http://www.pet-abuse.com/ to see how you can help stop cruelty towards animals.

[[photo copyright property of Jen Platz]]

If you look above you’ll see the one thing I wear on my body that I almost NEVER take off. I actually have two of them, one on each wrist.
I feel naked without them, honestly. I am proud to say that I am a Spencerian! Everywhere I go, anyone that talks to me for more than five minutes will, as a result, learn about Spencer Bell.
Just because I’m not writing about him, doesn’t mean that I’m not talking about him. You’d be hard pressed to find one day in which his name, his music, or his quotes aren’t passing my lips.
I love, more than anything, to read people’s stories about him, to know that as amazing as he is, he was/is just like each of us.
Flawed, yet beautiful.
There are days, I find myself in a situation, where I’m not sure what to do, so I ask myself. WWSD? Because I think, even as young as he was, he had it figured out. Hell, a lot better than I do at any rate. He knew to just grab life and enjoy the ride.
For some of us, that’s scary, right? To just let go and BE.

“…..I stomp down on the gas and go really, really fast…..” ~Spencer Bell

Sometimes, we need to throw caution to the wind, and just do what makes us happy, Spencer has taught me that, among so many other things.

I owe that man several beers.. one day, Spence .. me, you, and one hell of a hangover the next day.