Saturday, October 31, 2009
Halloween!
I love Halloween - the cute girl at the Dunkin Donuts drive through today was wearing a stripper school-girls outfit, complete with pig tails. WOOT!
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
I Survived Fantasy Fest and all I got was this stupid hangover...
Oh man. First off, let me say that if you've seen one set of painted boobies, you've seen them all. Until a pair of 300-pound white girls come strolling down the sidewalk towards you completely buck naked and painted all up. Which begs the question: does that cost more because it uses more paint?
I have been to New Orleans for Mardis Gras, and everything I expected from that experience was trumped in spades this weekend down in Key West, and it's only the opening weekend - things don't really kick off until later in the week. We saw all sorts of things: painted boobies everywhere, a man at an outdoor Cuban bar wearing nothing but butterfly wings, dolphins frollicking in the water, a parapallegic drag queen, and a beautiful sunset over the tropical waters of the southern-most point of the US - interrupted only briefly by, you guessed it: boobies.
True story - right after I took this picture is when we saw the dolphins - they were following the pictured boat and jumping out of the water. Apparently all mammals like mammaries.
B and I spent the weekend alternating between doing nothing and all sorts of things, and it was fantastic.
He was a fantastic host, as always, and I am everymore drawn to the beautiful southern part of our country, which is where I once again feel as though I should be instead of here.
And just when I thought I couldn't drink any more, when I stopped across the street to pick up my mail after flying home I was instantly handed a sipping glass of some really good tequila. And had three. Hair of the dog, and all.
When you get back from the tropics it seems that all you can say is that Life is Good. Tomorrow I return to work, which I am actually looking forward to, as I am to the rest of my life, which despite the current weather forecast is looking good in every way.
I have been to New Orleans for Mardis Gras, and everything I expected from that experience was trumped in spades this weekend down in Key West, and it's only the opening weekend - things don't really kick off until later in the week. We saw all sorts of things: painted boobies everywhere, a man at an outdoor Cuban bar wearing nothing but butterfly wings, dolphins frollicking in the water, a parapallegic drag queen, and a beautiful sunset over the tropical waters of the southern-most point of the US - interrupted only briefly by, you guessed it: boobies.
True story - right after I took this picture is when we saw the dolphins - they were following the pictured boat and jumping out of the water. Apparently all mammals like mammaries.
B and I spent the weekend alternating between doing nothing and all sorts of things, and it was fantastic.
He was a fantastic host, as always, and I am everymore drawn to the beautiful southern part of our country, which is where I once again feel as though I should be instead of here.
And just when I thought I couldn't drink any more, when I stopped across the street to pick up my mail after flying home I was instantly handed a sipping glass of some really good tequila. And had three. Hair of the dog, and all.
When you get back from the tropics it seems that all you can say is that Life is Good. Tomorrow I return to work, which I am actually looking forward to, as I am to the rest of my life, which despite the current weather forecast is looking good in every way.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
A New Leaf
What you are reading now, dear reader, was originally started as a rant blog. It has been a place for me to bitch about the things that pissed me off. I had another blog at the time that I started this one, in another life. In it I wrote about things that were wonderful, things that were beautiful, things that made my heart sing. That seems like such a long time ago. And I won't update that one ever again, because I have moved on from that part of my life, whether I wanted to or not.
Not that things don't feel the same way now, in fact anymore they seem more so, it's just that at the time things seemed perfect, and wonderful. All the time. Now, so much more so, but in a different, less poetic way.
When I posted things that were bitchy to that blog, it began to feel wrong to me. At some point, it began to feel as though those things didn't belong in my life, or at least in the same place organizationally as the things that were wonderful. So Federal Pound me in the Ass Prison was born for me to unleash my rants to.
What I've realized since then is that those things, the things I would ranted about, those things are as intertwined with life as cancer is with breathing. As accidents are with motorcycle riding. As infidelity is with love.
And tonight I've come full circle, and I no longer think of this as my rant blog, but as my blog blog. The place where I dump out my mental shits for you, dear reader, to read. In WeB log form.
That's not to say, for sure, that life is a big pile of shit. Far from it, in fact. Life is good, I've realized, despite the fact that we shit every day. I've had this realization before, in so many ways, and maybe that's the meaning of life. To keep rediscovering the meaning of life. Whether you want to or not.
I just don't want to feel anymore when I want to write something for the Internet to read, that it has to be a rant. I want to post things that make me happy too. I want to post beauty, and wonderfulness, as well as shit, because those things are as much a part of life as shit is.
Just like herpes is a part of sex. Just like road rage is a part of driving. Just like bad salmon is a part of visiting Hong Kong.
So this blog is, I have decided tonight, where I will post anything that I want to put out there in the universe, good or bad. I will post anything that is happening to me in life. Not just the bad shits, the ones that make your legs quiver and your nose pucker. also the good ones, that slide out in seconds and feel not unlike an orgasm when they deliver.
This, dear reader, is where I will share all of myself with the world, or at least the parts of me I want to share with those few of you out there who choose to visit this small piece of the Internet.
I don't know shit. And I think that's clear by the things that I post. So I'm not going to write anymore about just shit, you're going to get it all.
So enjoy, or don't, I don't care. As I said once before, in another world, this is for me.
And it's all of me, both good and bad.
Not that things don't feel the same way now, in fact anymore they seem more so, it's just that at the time things seemed perfect, and wonderful. All the time. Now, so much more so, but in a different, less poetic way.
When I posted things that were bitchy to that blog, it began to feel wrong to me. At some point, it began to feel as though those things didn't belong in my life, or at least in the same place organizationally as the things that were wonderful. So Federal Pound me in the Ass Prison was born for me to unleash my rants to.
What I've realized since then is that those things, the things I would ranted about, those things are as intertwined with life as cancer is with breathing. As accidents are with motorcycle riding. As infidelity is with love.
And tonight I've come full circle, and I no longer think of this as my rant blog, but as my blog blog. The place where I dump out my mental shits for you, dear reader, to read. In WeB log form.
That's not to say, for sure, that life is a big pile of shit. Far from it, in fact. Life is good, I've realized, despite the fact that we shit every day. I've had this realization before, in so many ways, and maybe that's the meaning of life. To keep rediscovering the meaning of life. Whether you want to or not.
I just don't want to feel anymore when I want to write something for the Internet to read, that it has to be a rant. I want to post things that make me happy too. I want to post beauty, and wonderfulness, as well as shit, because those things are as much a part of life as shit is.
Just like herpes is a part of sex. Just like road rage is a part of driving. Just like bad salmon is a part of visiting Hong Kong.
So this blog is, I have decided tonight, where I will post anything that I want to put out there in the universe, good or bad. I will post anything that is happening to me in life. Not just the bad shits, the ones that make your legs quiver and your nose pucker. also the good ones, that slide out in seconds and feel not unlike an orgasm when they deliver.
This, dear reader, is where I will share all of myself with the world, or at least the parts of me I want to share with those few of you out there who choose to visit this small piece of the Internet.
I don't know shit. And I think that's clear by the things that I post. So I'm not going to write anymore about just shit, you're going to get it all.
So enjoy, or don't, I don't care. As I said once before, in another world, this is for me.
And it's all of me, both good and bad.
Self-preservation
People don't always do what's best for them. I get that. Hell many times we don't even know what's best for us. I get that too. Life is complicated. People are complicated. Needs and desires are complicated. All too often, they conflict.
You may wake up to the alarm clock one morning and just not feel like going to work. But you do anyway, because you know that the bed you are lying in, the roof over your head, the coffe and bagel waiting for you at Dunkin Donuts - all of those things are funded by said job.
Some days maybe you give in to the immediate need to stay in bed and ignore the long term needs of having a home and food and warmth and security. That's OK, from time to time, because this world is run by humans who all understand that some days we just can't cut it, some days we have to give in to immediate concerns and can't deal with the bigger picture. So we build some allowances into our daily life. People created sick days because they understand that sometimes we have to stay home because we're sick or just sick of work. Friends understand if we don't call them back for a few days because we've got stuff going on.
But some people just don't get it. Some people don't understand that they get a few allowances built in to the Grand Scheme of Things, and take full advantage of what they've been given until the system barfs them out like yesterday's trash.
The rest of us all know that we're going to have to get up tomorrow if we don't get up today, or we'll lose our job. That we'll have to make time to make that call eventually or we'll lose that friend. And we do it. We drag our asses out of bed even though the next day we don't feel like going to work any more than the day before, and we make that call even if we don't have time to properly chat like we'd like to.
And life goes on. It goes the way we ultimately want it to, even if that day we might not be able to see the big picture all too clearly.
What I personally fail to understand is what makes a person sacrifice or even just risk losing those things that they really do want for themselves for something else that they can't seem to give up - even if it doesn't fit into the plan. Their plan. The one they came up with for themselves.
The only way of looking at it that makes any sense to me is that some people have addictions to self-destructive behavior. I get that someone could be so addicted to things that are bad for them because somehow their brain has twisted up reality to make those bad things feel better than the good things. Feel more right. Feel more justified in some way, perhaps a way that those of us who enjoy good things happening to us don't feel.
Just like someone who falls deeper and deeper into a drug habit and eventually misses work one too many times and loses their job, psycho-addicts are constantly fighting their urges to fall back into bad lifestyle choices, bad relationships, bad decisions. Even if doing so risks everything good they have made and been given in their lives - the good lifestyle choices, the good relationships, and the good decisions.
And this is entirely selfish, in a way that only those who study psychology might truly understand. These people convince themselves that what they are doing is right for them, that they are following their hearts.
What they are really doing is running away from healing. From kicking the habit.
I get that - to an extent. I like to get drunk from time to time. But I don't do it if it's going to prevent me from getting to work on time, or at work, for that matter. I don't drink if it's going to cause me to lose my license, my home, or my life.
I get that. I get how it works.
It's sad and a bit pathetic to see people who don't understand how it works, who are unable to let go of their hurt and truly enjoy life, and it's even more pathetic when they claim to be happy being miserable, to deserve what they have, blaming others who try to help them by saying that those people don't understand them.
I can quit any time, they say. I LIKE getting fucked up, they insist. I like being miserable, they claim.
The truth is that you can understand these people, even deeply and soulfully, and still walk away because they can't kick their habits. Because they WON'T kick their habtis.
It is possible to realize that there is nothing you can do to help them, just like there is nothing you can do to help a dog with rabies without getting bit yourself unless you're a professional. Trying to stick around and help someone fix themselves when they don't really believe that they are broken is just an excersise in futility. Interventions never work, they just breed resentment and solidify selfish justifications for bad behavior. I've learned this the hard way, more times than is probably healthy. I've learned that you can't help someone who won't let themselves truly believe that they need to be helped, no matter how wonderful or patient or giving you are.
All we can do in this world is make sure that we get up each morning and get to work, whether we feel like it or not, because that is how we'll feed our bellies and, eventually, our souls. Inner peace requires an environment of tranquility, comfort, and security to be properly nurtured. That's the first step. Once you achieve that, if you accept that the turmoil inside of you is your soul's reaction to shitty things that have happened to you in your past, you can move past those things and finally have the same peace inside that you've surrounded yourself with on the outside.
If you can't realize and own that, then no amount of external peace, security, and support is going to help you.
So don't even try to give those things to these people once you recognize who they are, because it's not going to help. No matter how much you want it to.
Some people have too much hurt, too much pride, and too much of an overwhelming addiction to see that what plagues them comes from inside. I don't know this personally, but I can only guess that maybe when there is so much turmoil inside that you can't sleep, can't eat, and don't know how to relate to healthy people - having quiet, a bounty of food, and unending love just makes that turmoil overwhelmingly loud and unbearable. Kind of like turning down the stereo so you can finally hear your thoughts - which is scary if your thoughts are a mess.
These people can help others, they can allow others to help them, but until they help themselves nothing is ever really going to change. Those that can't see that are doomed to feel as though the odds are stacked against them until they figure out that they are the ones holding all of their own cards. They can complain all they want that they are stuck in their position because The Man is holding them down, they can blame everyone else for not doing enough to help them, but that's the first sign that they don't know that only they can help themselves.
The truth is that all people are good and caring to a point - and we all have different breaking points - but sadly there are times when we have to just let go, no matter how hard it is, and walk away from someone who keeps beating their own head against the wall. Put your arm between their head and the wall and it will help them to an extent, but dammit, you're going to hurt your arm.
And those of us who have done that in the past, we hope against all hope that someday these other people realize that they are the ones hurting themselves, and everyone else in their lives, with their own self-destructive behavior.
And we hope, for their sake, that when they realize this there is someone around who cares as much about them as we did to help pull themselves up, dust themselves off, and start healing. Because that's what life is really all about: being there for someone when they need you - and are able to receive what you want to give them.
What life is NOT about is helping someone who is just going to find other ways to hurt themselves. And you. And everyone else around them...
"The deeper you get, the farther you fall down
The closer I get, the more you dissolve
You're lost inside, your pale addictions
Bury you, with the demons in the ash
Can't heal you, don't want to
cause you can't save your-fuckin'-self
Can't heal you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself
You are the one who made the decision
stuck in a prison, shattered and broken
I am the one who, expected to heal you, save you from drowning in your endless nightmare
Blessed be, the disillusioned
The banished misfit and the cursed hollow son
Can't heal you, I don't want to
cause you can't save yourself
Can't help you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself
We're taught to perish but fade away
Become the haunted and die as slaves
Can't heal you, I don't want to
cause you can't save yourself
Can't help you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself
Can't heal you, don't want to
cause you can't save your-fuckin'-self
Can't heal you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself"
- 5 Finger Death Punch
You may wake up to the alarm clock one morning and just not feel like going to work. But you do anyway, because you know that the bed you are lying in, the roof over your head, the coffe and bagel waiting for you at Dunkin Donuts - all of those things are funded by said job.
Some days maybe you give in to the immediate need to stay in bed and ignore the long term needs of having a home and food and warmth and security. That's OK, from time to time, because this world is run by humans who all understand that some days we just can't cut it, some days we have to give in to immediate concerns and can't deal with the bigger picture. So we build some allowances into our daily life. People created sick days because they understand that sometimes we have to stay home because we're sick or just sick of work. Friends understand if we don't call them back for a few days because we've got stuff going on.
But some people just don't get it. Some people don't understand that they get a few allowances built in to the Grand Scheme of Things, and take full advantage of what they've been given until the system barfs them out like yesterday's trash.
The rest of us all know that we're going to have to get up tomorrow if we don't get up today, or we'll lose our job. That we'll have to make time to make that call eventually or we'll lose that friend. And we do it. We drag our asses out of bed even though the next day we don't feel like going to work any more than the day before, and we make that call even if we don't have time to properly chat like we'd like to.
And life goes on. It goes the way we ultimately want it to, even if that day we might not be able to see the big picture all too clearly.
What I personally fail to understand is what makes a person sacrifice or even just risk losing those things that they really do want for themselves for something else that they can't seem to give up - even if it doesn't fit into the plan. Their plan. The one they came up with for themselves.
The only way of looking at it that makes any sense to me is that some people have addictions to self-destructive behavior. I get that someone could be so addicted to things that are bad for them because somehow their brain has twisted up reality to make those bad things feel better than the good things. Feel more right. Feel more justified in some way, perhaps a way that those of us who enjoy good things happening to us don't feel.
Just like someone who falls deeper and deeper into a drug habit and eventually misses work one too many times and loses their job, psycho-addicts are constantly fighting their urges to fall back into bad lifestyle choices, bad relationships, bad decisions. Even if doing so risks everything good they have made and been given in their lives - the good lifestyle choices, the good relationships, and the good decisions.
And this is entirely selfish, in a way that only those who study psychology might truly understand. These people convince themselves that what they are doing is right for them, that they are following their hearts.
What they are really doing is running away from healing. From kicking the habit.
I get that - to an extent. I like to get drunk from time to time. But I don't do it if it's going to prevent me from getting to work on time, or at work, for that matter. I don't drink if it's going to cause me to lose my license, my home, or my life.
I get that. I get how it works.
It's sad and a bit pathetic to see people who don't understand how it works, who are unable to let go of their hurt and truly enjoy life, and it's even more pathetic when they claim to be happy being miserable, to deserve what they have, blaming others who try to help them by saying that those people don't understand them.
I can quit any time, they say. I LIKE getting fucked up, they insist. I like being miserable, they claim.
The truth is that you can understand these people, even deeply and soulfully, and still walk away because they can't kick their habits. Because they WON'T kick their habtis.
It is possible to realize that there is nothing you can do to help them, just like there is nothing you can do to help a dog with rabies without getting bit yourself unless you're a professional. Trying to stick around and help someone fix themselves when they don't really believe that they are broken is just an excersise in futility. Interventions never work, they just breed resentment and solidify selfish justifications for bad behavior. I've learned this the hard way, more times than is probably healthy. I've learned that you can't help someone who won't let themselves truly believe that they need to be helped, no matter how wonderful or patient or giving you are.
All we can do in this world is make sure that we get up each morning and get to work, whether we feel like it or not, because that is how we'll feed our bellies and, eventually, our souls. Inner peace requires an environment of tranquility, comfort, and security to be properly nurtured. That's the first step. Once you achieve that, if you accept that the turmoil inside of you is your soul's reaction to shitty things that have happened to you in your past, you can move past those things and finally have the same peace inside that you've surrounded yourself with on the outside.
If you can't realize and own that, then no amount of external peace, security, and support is going to help you.
So don't even try to give those things to these people once you recognize who they are, because it's not going to help. No matter how much you want it to.
Some people have too much hurt, too much pride, and too much of an overwhelming addiction to see that what plagues them comes from inside. I don't know this personally, but I can only guess that maybe when there is so much turmoil inside that you can't sleep, can't eat, and don't know how to relate to healthy people - having quiet, a bounty of food, and unending love just makes that turmoil overwhelmingly loud and unbearable. Kind of like turning down the stereo so you can finally hear your thoughts - which is scary if your thoughts are a mess.
These people can help others, they can allow others to help them, but until they help themselves nothing is ever really going to change. Those that can't see that are doomed to feel as though the odds are stacked against them until they figure out that they are the ones holding all of their own cards. They can complain all they want that they are stuck in their position because The Man is holding them down, they can blame everyone else for not doing enough to help them, but that's the first sign that they don't know that only they can help themselves.
The truth is that all people are good and caring to a point - and we all have different breaking points - but sadly there are times when we have to just let go, no matter how hard it is, and walk away from someone who keeps beating their own head against the wall. Put your arm between their head and the wall and it will help them to an extent, but dammit, you're going to hurt your arm.
And those of us who have done that in the past, we hope against all hope that someday these other people realize that they are the ones hurting themselves, and everyone else in their lives, with their own self-destructive behavior.
And we hope, for their sake, that when they realize this there is someone around who cares as much about them as we did to help pull themselves up, dust themselves off, and start healing. Because that's what life is really all about: being there for someone when they need you - and are able to receive what you want to give them.
What life is NOT about is helping someone who is just going to find other ways to hurt themselves. And you. And everyone else around them...
"The deeper you get, the farther you fall down
The closer I get, the more you dissolve
You're lost inside, your pale addictions
Bury you, with the demons in the ash
Can't heal you, don't want to
cause you can't save your-fuckin'-self
Can't heal you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself
You are the one who made the decision
stuck in a prison, shattered and broken
I am the one who, expected to heal you, save you from drowning in your endless nightmare
Blessed be, the disillusioned
The banished misfit and the cursed hollow son
Can't heal you, I don't want to
cause you can't save yourself
Can't help you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself
We're taught to perish but fade away
Become the haunted and die as slaves
Can't heal you, I don't want to
cause you can't save yourself
Can't help you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself
Can't heal you, don't want to
cause you can't save your-fuckin'-self
Can't heal you, don't need to
cause you won't save yourself"
- 5 Finger Death Punch
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Old School
The other day I realized that it was technically possible for me to have sex with a girl 20 years younger than me - that would make her less than half my age - and not break any laws. I've complained (mostly joking) in the past about being old, but nothing makes it hit you in the ballsack more than this type of realization.
I realized this at the liquor store the other day. I was there buying a case of beer for me and my buddies to ceremoniously consume in the rain and snow outside of Gillette stadium before the game, and as I walked up to pay I overheard the cute young girl at the counter talking to her co-worker about how she is "totally getting back into the Smashing Pumkins because they are like, so good. And Old School."
Old School.
See also: Smashing Pumkins being like, so good.
She then proceeded to flirt with me mercilessly as I made my purchase. Maybe it was my Carhartt jacket and the Brett Farve-like unshaven greyness about my head and face giving her the impression that I am a rugged (which I am) fatherly (not so much) type. Maybe her daddy was a stringy wimpy finance manager for some insurance company who was never around to steer her in the right direction. Maybe getting me to notice her fulfilled some void left by Daddy Dearest in her young and all too impressionable life.
Or maybe I'm just irresistably hot to the ladies. There is that, after all.
I paid and left, turning down her offer to help me carry my purchase to my car. I'm way to rugged to let some chick carry my case of beer for me, and I was still getting over the shock of realizing that not only was I old enough to be her father, but that anyone anymore still thought that the Smashing Pumkins were any good. Or old-school, more importantly.
Led Zeppelin is old school. So is Aerosmith, but only marginally. Rush, Bon Jovi, Poison - not old enough to be considered Classic Rock yet. But all are old enough so that they shouldn't be touring any more.
Denial? Perhaps. But dammit, when I was a kid, music had to be 20 years old to be considered class-
Oh shit.
When the shit did this happen?
Whatever bitches, I may be old, but I'm not dead yet. This is for sure. And I'm certainly not going to screw some girl half my age to prove that, I have better things to do.
Like keep the pesky neighborhood kids off my lawn.
I realized this at the liquor store the other day. I was there buying a case of beer for me and my buddies to ceremoniously consume in the rain and snow outside of Gillette stadium before the game, and as I walked up to pay I overheard the cute young girl at the counter talking to her co-worker about how she is "totally getting back into the Smashing Pumkins because they are like, so good. And Old School."
Old School.
See also: Smashing Pumkins being like, so good.
She then proceeded to flirt with me mercilessly as I made my purchase. Maybe it was my Carhartt jacket and the Brett Farve-like unshaven greyness about my head and face giving her the impression that I am a rugged (which I am) fatherly (not so much) type. Maybe her daddy was a stringy wimpy finance manager for some insurance company who was never around to steer her in the right direction. Maybe getting me to notice her fulfilled some void left by Daddy Dearest in her young and all too impressionable life.
Or maybe I'm just irresistably hot to the ladies. There is that, after all.
I paid and left, turning down her offer to help me carry my purchase to my car. I'm way to rugged to let some chick carry my case of beer for me, and I was still getting over the shock of realizing that not only was I old enough to be her father, but that anyone anymore still thought that the Smashing Pumkins were any good. Or old-school, more importantly.
Led Zeppelin is old school. So is Aerosmith, but only marginally. Rush, Bon Jovi, Poison - not old enough to be considered Classic Rock yet. But all are old enough so that they shouldn't be touring any more.
Denial? Perhaps. But dammit, when I was a kid, music had to be 20 years old to be considered class-
Oh shit.
When the shit did this happen?
Whatever bitches, I may be old, but I'm not dead yet. This is for sure. And I'm certainly not going to screw some girl half my age to prove that, I have better things to do.
Like keep the pesky neighborhood kids off my lawn.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
WTH
The other day I was chatting with a friend at work about the weather, and made the comment "I wouldn't be suprised if we have snow on the ground before Thanksgiving". Yes, it's been a rough year, weather-wise. But I would have certainly been suprised two days ago to see snow on the ground before Halloween.
And yet, tonight I drove in the snow. By the time I got home from work, the leaves were like small party favours filled with Italian Ice. Now, just a half hour later, the ground is covered. I'd post a picture, but I can't bring myself to even document this sad event.
By morning, nearly an inch of snow will cover the leaves on my lawn, and the trees, many still green amidst the orange and yellow, will be hanging low under the burden of white slush.
As I said, it's been a rough year, weather-wise. But dammit, I won't let it get me down. Yes, I still live in New England due to a long tragedy of errors starting with the loss of my job and subsequent (but likely unrelated) crash of the real estate market last Spring, but I have a job that I love and a bunch of great friends here. And I have an even better friend who lives down in warmer climates, who I will be visiting next week and enjoying hedonistic and alcoholic pleasures with down in the Florida Keys.
Who knows what the future brings? The possibilities are quite endless, the future is wide open, I alone control my destiny, and what has been a long, strange, and mostly wonderful trip so far is not likely even close to over.
In other news, my Tivo for some reason switched my TV while I was at work to the local Christian channel today to record something (God knows why it thought I'd be interested), so when I turned on the TV tonight to see what's up, I was greeted with some dude preaching about how lost we are in the world.
I don't feel lost. I feel like I am found. And that's a really nice place to be, despite the weather...
Edit:
And yet, tonight I drove in the snow. By the time I got home from work, the leaves were like small party favours filled with Italian Ice. Now, just a half hour later, the ground is covered. I'd post a picture, but I can't bring myself to even document this sad event.
By morning, nearly an inch of snow will cover the leaves on my lawn, and the trees, many still green amidst the orange and yellow, will be hanging low under the burden of white slush.
As I said, it's been a rough year, weather-wise. But dammit, I won't let it get me down. Yes, I still live in New England due to a long tragedy of errors starting with the loss of my job and subsequent (but likely unrelated) crash of the real estate market last Spring, but I have a job that I love and a bunch of great friends here. And I have an even better friend who lives down in warmer climates, who I will be visiting next week and enjoying hedonistic and alcoholic pleasures with down in the Florida Keys.
Who knows what the future brings? The possibilities are quite endless, the future is wide open, I alone control my destiny, and what has been a long, strange, and mostly wonderful trip so far is not likely even close to over.
In other news, my Tivo for some reason switched my TV while I was at work to the local Christian channel today to record something (God knows why it thought I'd be interested), so when I turned on the TV tonight to see what's up, I was greeted with some dude preaching about how lost we are in the world.
I don't feel lost. I feel like I am found. And that's a really nice place to be, despite the weather...
Edit:
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
You Don't Owe Me
Entitlement. I don't have it. Actually, that's not true. I do feel that if I've earned something I am entitled to it, but I don't feel I'm entitled to something special "just because", like some people. And I sure don't expect every day to be wonderful and beautiful and unique - those times are rare, and that's what makes them special.
I was looking through some pictures from last summer's birthday party that B sent to me, and great memories flooded back (interrupted by blackouts caused by the vodka and red bulls that M had kept plying me with). It was one of the best times I've had in my life. It wasn't all that special in general, depending on how you look at it; I didn't see a marching band, or have anyone buy me flowers, or get lucky. In fact, what made it special to me had nothing to do with the reason we were out celebrating that night: recognition that I, personally, was alive.
It was of the best times I've had, and what made it special to me was that whatever the reason, I was out with people that were happy to be spending time with me (and each other) and who didn't want anything in particular from me except to enjoy their company. I've had plenty of days that I thought rated up there, but in retrospect were empty and shallow - specifically because those things weren't in them (even thought I may have thought they were at the time).
Today was nothing special, really, if you only value what other people can do for you. Actually, that's not even true. My boss, who I respect quite a lot, thanked me for doing my job well, which is something I've not heard much before. My co-workers did their job especially well, partly, I'd like to think, because they didn't want to let me down (see previous rant about lack of loyalty in our time, and redact it please). Other co-workers stood up in the face of adversity for no other reason than the fact that they believe in me and trust that what I have to say is accurate, and they didn't have to do that.
So I could end the day looking back and bemoaning the fact that I did nothing else but work and watch a few TV shows before crashing in bed, but instead I choose to reflect on the day and note my accomplishments, the accomplishments of others who were inspired by my honesty and openness, and realize that even though at the end of the day I didn't have time to see a parade, or have sex, or have anyone buy me flowers, I had a beautiful and wonderful and special day.
And I've been having a lot of those lately, with many more to come. These are the days that are obviously special, like the ones to be spent in a hedonistic near-tropical paradise with my closest friend, and the days whose specialness aren't as obvious, like today.
Mazel Tov, special day, I appreciate you as much as you appreciate me.
I was looking through some pictures from last summer's birthday party that B sent to me, and great memories flooded back (interrupted by blackouts caused by the vodka and red bulls that M had kept plying me with). It was one of the best times I've had in my life. It wasn't all that special in general, depending on how you look at it; I didn't see a marching band, or have anyone buy me flowers, or get lucky. In fact, what made it special to me had nothing to do with the reason we were out celebrating that night: recognition that I, personally, was alive.
It was of the best times I've had, and what made it special to me was that whatever the reason, I was out with people that were happy to be spending time with me (and each other) and who didn't want anything in particular from me except to enjoy their company. I've had plenty of days that I thought rated up there, but in retrospect were empty and shallow - specifically because those things weren't in them (even thought I may have thought they were at the time).
Today was nothing special, really, if you only value what other people can do for you. Actually, that's not even true. My boss, who I respect quite a lot, thanked me for doing my job well, which is something I've not heard much before. My co-workers did their job especially well, partly, I'd like to think, because they didn't want to let me down (see previous rant about lack of loyalty in our time, and redact it please). Other co-workers stood up in the face of adversity for no other reason than the fact that they believe in me and trust that what I have to say is accurate, and they didn't have to do that.
So I could end the day looking back and bemoaning the fact that I did nothing else but work and watch a few TV shows before crashing in bed, but instead I choose to reflect on the day and note my accomplishments, the accomplishments of others who were inspired by my honesty and openness, and realize that even though at the end of the day I didn't have time to see a parade, or have sex, or have anyone buy me flowers, I had a beautiful and wonderful and special day.
And I've been having a lot of those lately, with many more to come. These are the days that are obviously special, like the ones to be spent in a hedonistic near-tropical paradise with my closest friend, and the days whose specialness aren't as obvious, like today.
Mazel Tov, special day, I appreciate you as much as you appreciate me.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I miss the 1940's
I'm watching football right now, and the players are all accessorized in pink shoes, pink gloves, and silly pink ribbons on their jerseys. Apparently it's breast cancer awareness month, and the idea is that they are displaying their loyalty to women by reminding everyone that they (women) are particularly prone to getting cancer in their fluffy mounds of joy.
While I am a great fan of sweater kittens of all shapes and sizes, and I am definitely concerned about any ravaging disease that has the potential to remove them from this world, something seems odd about this to me. First of all, men wearing pink on Sunday afternoon while they violently throw each other to the ground is just plain silly. Secondly, I can't particularly envision a scenario in which women would wear a set of balls on their shirt to remind us that the same illness can befall men's most sacred of bits.
Where is our awareness of testicular cancer???
I make it a point to study our history, the World War II era being particularly fascinating to me. Stephen Ambrose and Studs Terkel both are famous authors on the subject, the reason being that they dive into the personal aspect of that time, interviewing and writing about the people that were cogs in America's war machine more so than the machine itself. What draws me to that particular point in history are stories told about the undying loyalty of man at the time. America was drawn reluctantly into a war that was designed to keep us on the sidelines, and (while in retrospect sending out boys across both oceans to die for countries that couldn't even help themselves was the noble and right thing to do) at the time American soldiers knew nothing of global politics or religious opression and genocide occuring in far off lands, these were citizen soliders. They were farmers, mechancis, garbage collectors; boys taken from their homes and sent far, far away, boys who proudly wore their country's flag on their coats and fought heroically for one reason alone - because they didn't want to let down the guy next to them.
That's why they fought, and that's why they died. They weren't putting their lives on the line to liberate France, or stop the Holocaust (although both of those things happened because of the American soldier); they were thrown into a conflict that they knew very little about and stood up from a foxhole amidst a barrage of gunfire because the guy in the foxhole next to them did. And they didn't want him to be alone.
There's no loyalty in the world at all any more, except in the global skirmishes that we continue to send out young men to fight in. Today, men not in military uniform will emasculate themselves by wearing pink to support the ladies in their lives who wouldn't do the same for them. Today, men like Brett Favre and Adam Vinatieri will switch teams and play for the enemy at the drop of a hat, all for a few more million dollars that they couldn't possibly spend in their lifetime. They let down the fans who pay their salaries, who are the equivalent of the men in the trenches next to them, and they do this without second thought.
Where are the men who would leave the small town that they grew up in and travel to distant lands in the face of the greatest fear they have ever know, and stand up and become reluctant heroes to protect the man next to them? What happened to the women who would stay home waiting for their return and then marry them and remain loyal and supportive to them for the next 6o years? Where are the men who would never dream of touching another man's woman even without knowing who he is?
What has happened to our society to bring us to a place where you can't trust anyone to be who they say they are, a place where you can't rely on the guy next to you to have your back in a bar fight, a place where you can almost always trust anyone involved in any aspect of your life to eventually let you down? Where is that place where people always do the right thing by other people, no matter how hard it is for them to do?
Apparently we left all that behind in our glory days, the days of our fathers, the days of a common and clearly defined enemy. It has become a struggle to be a man in this age. It has become difficult to believe in things like honesty, trust, love, and friendship.
I won't let anyone take that away from me. It is a lonely place to be, but I refuse to give in and give up my own honesty and loyalty to my fellow man just because he has forgotten about me. He may not deserve my loyalty because he may not be willing to do the same for me in return, but that's not going to make me change who I am, and what I believe in.
While I am a great fan of sweater kittens of all shapes and sizes, and I am definitely concerned about any ravaging disease that has the potential to remove them from this world, something seems odd about this to me. First of all, men wearing pink on Sunday afternoon while they violently throw each other to the ground is just plain silly. Secondly, I can't particularly envision a scenario in which women would wear a set of balls on their shirt to remind us that the same illness can befall men's most sacred of bits.
Where is our awareness of testicular cancer???
I make it a point to study our history, the World War II era being particularly fascinating to me. Stephen Ambrose and Studs Terkel both are famous authors on the subject, the reason being that they dive into the personal aspect of that time, interviewing and writing about the people that were cogs in America's war machine more so than the machine itself. What draws me to that particular point in history are stories told about the undying loyalty of man at the time. America was drawn reluctantly into a war that was designed to keep us on the sidelines, and (while in retrospect sending out boys across both oceans to die for countries that couldn't even help themselves was the noble and right thing to do) at the time American soldiers knew nothing of global politics or religious opression and genocide occuring in far off lands, these were citizen soliders. They were farmers, mechancis, garbage collectors; boys taken from their homes and sent far, far away, boys who proudly wore their country's flag on their coats and fought heroically for one reason alone - because they didn't want to let down the guy next to them.
That's why they fought, and that's why they died. They weren't putting their lives on the line to liberate France, or stop the Holocaust (although both of those things happened because of the American soldier); they were thrown into a conflict that they knew very little about and stood up from a foxhole amidst a barrage of gunfire because the guy in the foxhole next to them did. And they didn't want him to be alone.
There's no loyalty in the world at all any more, except in the global skirmishes that we continue to send out young men to fight in. Today, men not in military uniform will emasculate themselves by wearing pink to support the ladies in their lives who wouldn't do the same for them. Today, men like Brett Favre and Adam Vinatieri will switch teams and play for the enemy at the drop of a hat, all for a few more million dollars that they couldn't possibly spend in their lifetime. They let down the fans who pay their salaries, who are the equivalent of the men in the trenches next to them, and they do this without second thought.
Where are the men who would leave the small town that they grew up in and travel to distant lands in the face of the greatest fear they have ever know, and stand up and become reluctant heroes to protect the man next to them? What happened to the women who would stay home waiting for their return and then marry them and remain loyal and supportive to them for the next 6o years? Where are the men who would never dream of touching another man's woman even without knowing who he is?
What has happened to our society to bring us to a place where you can't trust anyone to be who they say they are, a place where you can't rely on the guy next to you to have your back in a bar fight, a place where you can almost always trust anyone involved in any aspect of your life to eventually let you down? Where is that place where people always do the right thing by other people, no matter how hard it is for them to do?
Apparently we left all that behind in our glory days, the days of our fathers, the days of a common and clearly defined enemy. It has become a struggle to be a man in this age. It has become difficult to believe in things like honesty, trust, love, and friendship.
I won't let anyone take that away from me. It is a lonely place to be, but I refuse to give in and give up my own honesty and loyalty to my fellow man just because he has forgotten about me. He may not deserve my loyalty because he may not be willing to do the same for me in return, but that's not going to make me change who I am, and what I believe in.
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