America's #1 Balance Bike Destination

America's #1 Balance Bike Destination
America's #1 Balance Bike Destination

14 April 2017

Hello world!

It's been many years since my last post. Since that time, I've changed careers. I'm no longer doing anything in the soul-crushing construction industry. Instead I am happily and fully engaged in growing my business in the bicycle industry: https://weebikeshop.com and https://balancebikeland.com
Hope you have a moment to check it out!

07 February 2011

Fatherhood.

Fatherhood shapes lifetimes of behavior, habits and values. It never ends. Years after losing him, I'm in the unfortunate yet grateful position of realizing this, that he lives in me, and I carry immense guilt because my younger siblings were cheated- I had him all to myself..
Please pardon the sentimental rantings of this textbook Pisces..
Thanks for reading.

10 November 2010

Spilling some poison..

All of my late father's violence, alcoholism, absenteeism, among various other deficiencies, are no match for my selfish wish to have him here again.. as I imagine him comforting and mentoring me through the completion of my 40th year.. at a time when youthful optimism is less than it ever was, career is in the toilet, and I hang precariously from a cloud steeped with debt.. confused about what matters most. This is about the same age when my life hero started to un-apologetically show weakness.. and to fall apart like a Chinese motorcycle.. self-medicating away the painful reality of missed opportunities, of promises made and then broken to himself.. of hopes and dreams slipping out of reach and out of sight.. We can only shine so brightly for so long, especially when the throttle is unrelentingly opened up to full power. Today I stand in his shoes and look down upon them in awe, imagining how much more completely I would have self-destructed after walking just a mile in them. I forgive everything, old man.. but not myself for being an ignorant douche-royale during most of the times when you were crying out for love, for relief, for praise, for just a little respect. I salute you.

14 October 2010

There's less of me to go around..


..and I mean it literally and figuratively and physically.. It's been nearly 2 months since my last contribution here, but I've become a bit overwhelmed with the amount of attention the internet requires from me. I'm now counting 8 or 9 blogs, plus 3 retail websites, a few social networking venues and of course horoscopes, news, weather, maps, five e-mail accounts, spam and youporn. Needless to say, your hero is spread pretty thin these days..
So a few hours after today's colonoscopy, my dear wife indicated with much amusement how helpless I looked in the recovery room.. that is.. high on drugs, tubes in my nose and arm, drooling on myself as I slowly regained consciousness.. and I couldn't resist asking her why she didn't right then and there take a picture and "Facebook it". Well apparently the idea did cross her mind but she refrained from exploiting my pain for your entertainment. Good girl.. It got me to thinking.. as we drove to the PTO meeting tonight- there must already be some good images of me injured or suffering that I can share.. and bingo! I remembered the self portrait I took of myself 4 years ago, in the ambulance after being hit by a car in Cranston while riding home from work. So after sending Ebru off to bed (she fell asleep while we watched our Netflix movie- "Guru") I resolved to find that picture and explain to you how, if that accident happened today I would have probably broken some bones.. At my annual physical this past Tuesday, I asked my doctor what my weigh-in was two years prior- 183.. one year ago- 173.. and two days ago.. drumroll..... 162 (fully clothed of course..) so at the time of this accident where I destroyed my helmet (I had blood coming out of my ear and I had stitches in my ear canal) I was about 25 pounds heavier, more cushioned with fat, perhaps even more muscular. I don't know how I would fare today in such a T-bone collision.. This morning I weighed in at 157, but of course this was in my birthday suit, and after an 18 hour period of liquid diet, Dulcolax and other bowel cleansing medications I was required to imbibe. I don't miss those extra 25 pounds. After disrobing for today's procedure and laying on the gurney, two nurses attended to my IV, blood pressure and oxygen.. when they took my pulse it was nice to hear them say "heartrate is 46- you are very fit!". Indeed, a big strong heart doesn't need to pump so often- it moves more blood with less work- an advantage which hopefully pays big dividends when I'm an old man. Ebru was with me in the recovery room today- and I don't remember a thing- but she says the alarm kept going off because my heart rate kept falling below 45. Sweet. If I never win another bike race ever again (I hear that stifled laughter- not cool), I still feel like I've won something priceless: more time on this planet with people who I love.. which assumes of course that a piano does not fall onto me or my plane does not crash or other unmentionable abbreviations of life do not occur to me..
I'm reaching an age where it's probably going to be hard resisting the urge to judge myself, judge my achievements, judge my health, judge my life's quality. So far I'm looking forward to the occasion, and hopefully many of the more difficult albeit correct choices I've made and hard work I've done for the past 10-20 years will continue to bear fruit. With so many blessings to count, age does not matter.
For those of you who wondered, my colonoscopy was a success- only one small polyp was found and removed.. and if/when I get my hands on a picture of it, hell yeah I'm going to Facebook it!
Thanks for reading.
Hoscakal.

17 August 2010

Statement/Franz Wright, August 2010

Life's random acts of cruelty bring out the best in some people. Franz Wright has the same disease which took our paternal hero from us a little over two years ago. His voiced words comforted me then as I mourned our loss, and I took possession of a few of them to use as my battle cry when life forces me to engage it in Warrior mode. I count myself honored and privileged to have received this today. Please open your heart to this opportunity to read and reflect upon such deep sincerity. -Murat

August 17, 2010/F.Wright

I feel so much dread that I might do things to make my friends feel ashamed of me. My wish is to go out the Franz people seemed to like and at times draw inspiration from. If that is to be my last gift to them, my last task or final atonement, it is a very small thing, not worth that much, but it is all I have. I have failed the people I loved most in my life so many times that it is a wonder all of them did not abandon me. Yet in the end, so many have remained. That is what astonishes me.

But I need everyone to know this: I would do it all again, precise to the second I’d live again the life I was honored with and loved so terribly and voraciously, in spite of brief and highly sporadic occasions when I had every intention of killing it. It will sound contradictory because, for one thing, it is contradictory, but I have always been thrilled, physiologically thrilled at these last words of the mountainous Martin Luther King, Jr.: I just want to do God’s will.

Looking back, it is clear that I was going to keep getting my face kicked in, and worse, continue doing harm to others, to the good-hearted sensitive and brilliant, that is, as they are the most fragile, vulnerable and easily manipulated. I was not so gradiose as to put it to myself quite this way, not consciously certainly, I knew better than that. Still it was getting more and more obvious that all that shit was continuing unabated, all that meaningless waste of time which, as Scott Cairns has said so much more beautifully, is all sin is. I knew it would go on and on, and at the same time I myself would go on living in either the terror of or the horrible little dark wish for the time when it would be stopped, and something finally stomped it into paralysis.

That very thing had already happened, in fact, about ten times or so since I was fifteen, not to mention the couple before I reached that august age. But in my mid-forties I one dead day found myself standing in a bathtub half filled with cold water and on the verge of dropping into it every electrical appliance I could find in the apartment, all securely plugged into a sturdy extension cord—I see that cramped and flourescent last room, and I see my sins before me. I prepared to see the x-ray of horror in the dark or its dark x-ray in a white glare, and considered for a moment the surprise of the woman I’d lived with for fifteen years when she got home. In spite of all the years and decades I had put into it, the strenuously exercized will to survive at any cost, and at the cost of anyone else in close vicinity, the will to be the last one left standing with absolute disreguard for the fate of others, no one would be left standing, and the room would be vacant of me for many hours, the world vacant of me forever.

The fact is I did commit suicide. I really and truly did let fall all those household appliances, gigantic radios, hair-dryers, etc., into the cold water right up over my ankles, standing there in my shitty underwear, unshaven, the aghast and hysterical ghost or vegetable-version of the person I’d been. It is also clearly the case that I was not killed, but regarding that I have never addressed You. What I found was You and where You apparently dwell, where there is positively nowhere left to turn.

I implored You to recall my childhood love of You, Old and New Testaments cover to cover more than once by the time I was twelve, the love for Your words, Your silent voice—and knocked again, and was silenced, and as You had long ago assured me, I was immediately and, it goes without saying, without regard for merit, offered entrance into Your infinite mercy and peace. And I have had to relearn how to do this, how to ask and knock so many times, so many, many times. I have, at this point in my life, at this point perhaps near the end of my life, no fear or any sense of being assailed, or hunted down, or unfairly singled out, or anything of the kind. I did learn not learn yesterday that no exception will be made for me when it comes to the fate of every human being, star, or leaf. My experience has shown me and thoroughly convinced me that every ordeal I remember and imagine, the worse the better, has led me unfailingly to a golden place, the very one I would have wanted but could not otherwise, by my own efforts, have reached, so busy was I wandering in darkness up and down the world. If I find myself facing the last great ordeal, I intend to get it right this time. To die trying. To go down raging in praise, full of faith that after I am torn to pieces, as so many times before, I will not only survive, I will be raised up, and I will see the beauty of Your house.

21 June 2010

Little Miss Sunshine: Devotchka: Till The End Of Time

This is from the movie soundtrack of "Little Miss Sunshine" one of my top 10 favorite movies. This song is so skillfully written and the melody so engaging that I turn to putty every time I hear it. The lyrics which punch me in the stomach are underlined below. Enjoy! Put this movie in your Netflix qeue.

They're just words, they ain't worth nothing
Cloud your head and push your buttons
And watch how they just disappear
When we're far away from here

And everybody knows where this is heading
Forgive me for forgetting
Our hearts irrevocably combined
Star-crossed souls slow dancing
Retreating and advancing
Across the sky until the end of time

Oh who put all those cares inside your head
You can't live your life on your deathbed
And it's been such a lovely day
Let's not let it end this way

And everybody knows where this is heading
Forgive me for forgetting
Our hearts irrevocably combined
Star-crossed souls slow dancing
Retreating and advancing
Across the sky until the end of time

Like sisters and brothers we lean on each other
Like sweethearts carved on a headstone
Oh why even bother, it'll be here tomorrow
It's not worth it sleeping alone

And look at you and me still here together
There is no one knows you better
And we've come such a long long way
Let's put it off for one more day

And everybody knows where this is heading
Forgive me for forgetting
Our hearts irrevocably combined
Star-crossed souls slow dancing
Retreating and advancing
Across the sky until the end of time

20 May 2010

"Baba?"

Even a grown man uses this word. The last time it passed my lips, my voice cracked like a teenager's as I stood above him, agonizing over what to do. It was a sunny afternoon. It was my watch and I napped lightly in his room. The coughing roused me from sleep, barely.. Because there comes a time when the body is too weak to push another centimeter of air through the blockage.. And it sounds like muffled breathing instead. May you never press your ear to the chest of a loved one and hear silence. Unforgettable silence.

08 May 2010

The Friendship Matrix

I don't want to take the wind out of your sails, but having 200, 500 or 10,000 FB friends who you never see in person, who never call you, who don't have you on their Christmas card list, who you can never ask for a favor, who can't be bothered to wish you happy birthday when it only takes a few mouse clicks, who don't (or don't want to) even say hello to you when you accidentally see them in person.. I'm not sure if it's so great.. Has true friendship become so scarce that a computer program has replaced it? Are we all plugged into the FB Matrix? Does it keep us engaged in the fantasy that scores of people matter to us and that we are equally important to all of them? Some of these FB connections to people are beginning to feel as hollow as a drum, aren't they?
Don't get me wrong- I care deeply about everyone in my friend list, but let's be realistic- if we haven't said boo to each other in 30 days.. Let's admit that our friendship was primarily requested out of curiosity, and that it was accepted out of courtesy and good manners. This does not constitute friendship.

03 May 2010

FW: Lütfen ama lütfen iletiniz.

                                         ABDULKADİR SERDAROĞLU

MADEN MÜHENDİSİ

MERHALE SOKAK NO: 61/2 BEŞTEPE/ANKARA

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DÜŞÜNSENİZE AYNI DURUMDA BİZ OLSAK NE YAPARDIK.


 

Yukarıda resmi görünen 4 yaşındaki  kızım Azra Zeynep 03.04.2009 Cuma gününden itibaren kayıptır..!!

Yerini bilenlerin, görenlerin insaniyet namına polis'e bildirmeleri veya aşağıdaki numaraları aramaları önemle rica olunur..!!

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(Bu mail'i lütfen listenizdeki herkese ulaştırınız..!!)


28 April 2010

Food Inc reveals American barbarism

We watched the PBS documentary Food Inc. recently and we were astonished to see the brutally inhumane treatment of animals on the chicken farms and on the animal "factories". I can't help but be reminded of the many doofus redneck a-holes I've crossed swords with in debate relative to the supposed "barbaric" way in which Muslims painlessly slaughter sheep, cows and goats, that is, in a manner compliant with Halal (similar to Kosher).
What you have seen on Food Inc is the horrific AMERICAN WAY, and I know that most of you are repulsed at the way that chickens, pigs and cows are treated before entering the slaughterhouse.
Here is the distinction people: Halal meat is from animals which were treated humanely, fed proper nutritional food and not forced to live knee-deep in their own disease and feces and not forced to eat corn based trash. Slaughter of any kind is going to be painful, I don't care how you go about it, but it is certainly minimized when a person does it with their own two hands thusly:
"a swift, deep incision with a sharp knife on the neck, cutting the jugular veins and carotid arteries of both sides but leaving the spinal cord intact."
You have all no doubt seen Avatar and recall the scene when the hero was saved from the dog-creatures by his love interest. You will recall the deep respect which she had for the animals, including one which she had to finish off with her dagger. I hate to draw comparison to a fantasy movie, but there is no better way to describe the Islamic respect of taking an animal's life for food. Halal meat is from animals which were responsibly bred, respectably raised, generously fed and humanely slaughtered.
To me there is nothing so barbaric as the images seen on Food Inc. What good is a so-called "painless" slaughterhouse death when being alive was a nightmare of suffering, humiliation and deprivation? Puh-lease.

07 April 2010

The pinnacle of loneliness..

.occurs on my longest of training rides at the point which is farthest from home on some unfamiliar, empty and forgotten country road.. when suddenly it hits me like a sucker-punch in the stomach.. the inexplicably timed recollection that my childhood hero, protector, and mentor, is gone. Mine were the last hands to touch him while he still drew breath, and they were the first to touch him when he suddenly did not. This honors me immensely but it also intensifies the panicked realization that this stubborn and unteachable apprentice has lost his gifted and nurturing master. Miss you Dad.

05 April 2010

Turkish joke

Recently deceased soul is being given a tour of Hell and observes that separate fiery pits are arranged for each nationality, and that each pit has a guard in charge of containing the souls who try to escape. Recently deceased observes that the hell-fire pit for Turks is not guarded. Those attempting to escape are pulled back down from below..

This is bad.. I know..