Patrick O'Neill
Bio
I am a NW born & bred composer and writer currently living in Seattle, WA with my wife and two dogs. When I am giving my ears a break I enjoy writing about politics, social issues, race and everything else that keeps me up at night.
Stories (11/0)
Climate and Immigration
I’d like to tell you a story about immigration. Ancestry (dot) com came around a few years ago and was something I was immediately intrigued by. To dig into your own history was something that seemed massively tantalizing. I filled out what I knew of my family trees and I texted and called Grandparents to help fill in more. I was interested in finding out how the people and stories had traveled through history to where I sit and type today.
By Patrick O'Neill4 years ago in The Swamp
September 11th, 2020
On September 11th, 2001 I got dressed early in the clothes I’d laid out on the floor the night before because I was still dealing with a healthy dose of anxiety about having just begun the 7th grade. I recall hearing my mom upstairs in the kitchen and I remember making cereal while she rushed around the house, busily getting ready for another Tuesday with three school age kids. I remember us both half-paying attention to whatever morning news show was on as the host broke in with a report that a tower had been hit by a plane in New York City. As confusion began to settle in we both stopped what we were doing and we sat there at the kitchen table and watched on that small TV that hung in the corner of the room as another plane went crashing into the other Twin Tower.
By Patrick O'Neill4 years ago in The Swamp
How the West was Radicalized
As I signed my name on the ‘Locker Cleanout List’, I remember thinking to myself; I suppose I won’t see my friends for some time. By this time, school had been closed for a couple of weeks. A virus had appeared in our country and spread to my community a month prior and now we all had to finish the school year at home. Of course, unannounced interruptions to education were something that my generation had become accustomed to by this point.
By Patrick O'Neill4 years ago in The Swamp
The NCAA Problem
If the news out of Arizona regarding basketball coach Sean Miller surprised you this weekend, you haven’t been paying attention. College athletics are magnificent in their awesome camaraderie and regarded as a cornerstone of the American College experience. They are also magnificent in their malignant corruption and a model of antiquity in a modern world. While you’d like to believe that the heart of the NCAA has good intentions, after 2018, it may be hard to continue convincing people of that.
By Patrick O'Neill6 years ago in Unbalanced
What's Wrong With the Boys?
I remember evenings as a young boy, my Dad would come home from work. My little brother and I already busy bothering my Mom and antagonizing each other. My Dad would come down to the basement and we’d rough-house, we’d slap-box and and toss footballs and do push-up competitions and race down the hallway. I can still hear my Mom shouting things from the kitchen like, “It’s all fun until someone gets hurt!” My Dad would calm us down and after dinner he’d come back downstairs with us. He’d tell us goodnight and we would just talk. We’d talk about our day, and we’d talk about whatever we were going through; our fears, our triumphs. Our failures and our adventures. It was a moment in the day that was meaningful for all three of us, and in looking back, it was those moments that taught me that it was okay to be vulnerable, and it was okay to talk about how I felt.
By Patrick O'Neill6 years ago in The Swamp
What Would Jesus Do?
It's hard to pin-point the moment that my disbelief really began. Like most who don't affiliate with a religion, it wasn't necessarily a specific moment as much as it was a series of moments in conjunction with my environment that lead me to where I am now. Having said that, I do remember moments in my childhood that shifted my paradigm. Small cracks in the veneer of my youthful suspensions of disbelief. The shooting massacre at Columbine occurred four days before my tenth birthday. It was a Tuesday and that night I remember my parents trying to explain what had happened in whatever way you explain something that horrible to a kid that age. Later that week, I remember sneaking into the TV room late one evening after my parents had gone to bed, I watched re-run news coverage and I just sat there; stunned, confused, and scared.
By Patrick O'Neill6 years ago in The Swamp
Punishment and Privilege
I was six- or seven-years-old the first time I burned myself. My dad was taking night classes at the time, and I was home with my mom and brother getting ready for dinner. I remember my brother was in the dining room, strapped into a high-chair gleefully shouting to himself and tossing snacks in the air. My mom had run to the car to grab the last of the groceries we’d just picked up, my dog Lucky was barking from the living room, and then running to me, nudging my chest with his snout as if to say, “Hey, did you hear that too?!”
By Patrick O'Neill6 years ago in Criminal
November 9, 2016
I was at work when the weight of reality began to tip the scales. It was a Tuesday. Considering the current events, it was a Tuesday we’d known would be slower than most. So, I had my laptop perched on a table in the back of the bar, and between zesting manhattans or pan frying scallops, each of the employees and myself would find small moments we could go and peak at the screen, away from prying eyes. As the early evening drifted into the dinner hour, the crowd appeared to dwindle instead of grow. The normal rush hour traffic, usually buzzing around 1st Avenue, was quiet. The white-haired man on my laptop was hurriedly pressing boxes on a wall length touchscreen, appearing confused and panicked as he tried to explain what we were all seeing. By this time, we’d usually be busy taking orders and 86’ing dishes, but the place was almost empty, just a couple people sitting over drinks, scrolling screens by themselves.
By Patrick O'Neill6 years ago in The Swamp
Guns in Your Grandchild's America
This is about the future America our kids and grandkids will grow up in. If you want that future to look like the present or the past, I'd suggest you stop reading here. If you appreciate the concept of forward motion and progress in the human species, please continue.
By Patrick O'Neill6 years ago in The Swamp