Nov. 30 2010
Looking out over Grand Caymen Island, and majestic blue green Caribbean waters, from the garden café of the Norwegian Dawn, having just polished off some wonderful fresh eggs courtesy of Antonio the omelet chef. He greeted me this morning my name as I came through his line, which was strange for two reasons; one, because I don’t remember telling him my name, and two, because he must have made hundreds of omelets since our cruise began. But Antonio had fresh eggs waiting for me because I had mentioned that it would be nice to have them rather than the goopy, egg-like mixture he usually used for the omelets.
Optimism leads to gratefulness, which lead to the occurrence of greatness, and perpetuates optimism.
The supernatural power that has occurred within, has me reeling. Why does everybody remember me; why do they smile that smile at me? Why do I remind them of they’re husband when he was younger (last night at the French restaurant from the lady whom I offered to take a picture of her and her husband together). Well of course I would split off and offer some of the pork dish we ordered that she had mentioned wanting instead of the chicken she ordered and was disappointed by. We had eaten three different appetizers, salad, soup, entrees, soon to have dessert. We had drank a wonderful bottle of poulet fusse chardonnay, and had our dinner served on Versace china (note to self, if ever having waaay too much money on hand and looking to blow it on something extraordinary, the pink “Jardin” set with the butterfly in the center is definitely the way to go.)
After all this, while the piano player in the Gatsby lounge played a delightful rendition of Corcovado, the statement was made by a man to a woman, “well, in fifteen years, no matter where we are lets get together and settle this bet.” That’s were the trouble began. The bet was whether Bridget’s brother would still be married to the woman he had married two years ago, after she got pregnant. It was spurred by my mention that he was truly sacrificing his life to be with her due to the ultra sever allergy to rice she has, and therefore will not go to restaurants nor eat anywhere she doesn’t have entire control of the kitchen inventory and cooking history; and somehow, she pretty much stops him from out too because of it.
I said that there was no way I could ever do that for anybody, and was amazed by his dedication. I said that I didn’t think that his wife was good looking enough to warrant that kind of sacrifice, nor was she smart, interesting, or kind enough. None of these things upset Bridget, what sent our otherwise beautiful night spiraling into the abyss of misery was the statement…
“Where ever we are in 15 years, lets get together and settle this bet.”
What ingredient in that statement could sour three hours of French dining bliss?
It was simply the implication that in fifteen years, there was a possibility that her and I would not be “together”.
We are no longer “together”. I made that utterly clear at 3am after a horrific battery of psychological and emotional torment that stemmed from the possibility presented by one simple statement.
Now one beautiful evening gone bad does not necessarily warrant a parting of ways; what does, is the constant and rhythmic ruination of pleasant evenings by a person who is more attached to their conceptions of how things “should be” than enjoying how they are.
And the lesson is as follows… as it is with the past memories, bringing future expectations into the present moment is a killer of present joy. Optimism cannot coexist along with the fear of future events. They are mutually exclusive. This is not to say one can not make plans, plans are great, they’re how you make it to the ship on time. It’s also not to say that it’s not important to meditate on desires, and create intentions for manifesting one’s reality. That’s how we shape our future. But expectations, that lead to fear. That is pessimism by default.
So how am I bringing optimism to this situation? I am no longer holding to the fear that I will not be able to find someone I can love and be loved by. That I should settle for “having” someone, just because they are dedicated and committed to the misery we share, just because they can count on it. I want to adore someone; and I want to be honest with them without fear of severe ridicule; and I want to learn from someone, not only teach. I want to walk step for step, not three steps ahead, hand in hand, and burst into a wizard of oz Dorothy skip; stare deep into eyes, and kiss in public, and burst into song, maybe even in harmony.
I deserve this and more, and if looking for that means being alone from time to time, or not having a guarantee that someone will always be there, I’ll take my chances. Maybe it will be with Bridget; or maybe it will be with someone with a tighter ass. Maybe it will be her, with a tighter ass, either way I have chosen to trade in a guaranteed sad coexistence for the possibility of joy…
I’m optimistic.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
In the card room on Norwegian Dawn...
Nov. 29 2010
God is with me…
I am sitting in the card room on the 12th floor of the cruise ship Norwegian Dawn. A huge smile on my face and a tear in my eye. My theme song is playing on the public P.A. “Little Secrets” by Passion Pit. I don’t know how they got it in the rotation, considering it’s a relatively new song, and not a popular song by any means. Maybe Amma did it : )
I’ve just finished saying my mantra the recommended 108 times or so (who’s counting) in the chapel here on deck 12, staring out into the vastness of the sea of the Caribbean, rather than at the metal cross bearing a very sad looking, slumping Jesus, hanging by nails, with thorny crown. I thought, seeing as my mantra inspiration was joy, poor Jesus would be an inappropriate object to meditate on.
I am pure joy, and I have to say that mention of this exercise in optimism cannot be ignored. At the ashram, the gentleman who explained to me the mantra given to me by Amma, explained to me also that I should, like I mentioned, say my mantra 108 times daily, while , (and said in a wonderful Punjab accent) “focusing on something joyful; perhaps Amma laughing, as there’s nothing more joyful as seeing Amma laugh.” Also he further explained; I should try to see Amma in every person and this has been a truly wild exercise as I walk the the pool deck, passing the man drinking a bucket of beer, with the tee-shirt reading, “I’m right 96% of the time, and who cares about 4%. Cheers to Amma.
Here in the card room, before I began to type, two boys were playing spades with their father who was about to smack the older of them for telling his brother the wrong rules to the game so he could beat him, to which the younger started mimicking Donald Trump screeching,” You’re fired!” to the older. The older kept saying in response, “only Donald Trump can say that” to which the younger replied repeatedly “I just said it, you’re fired, you’re fired, I said it, you’re fired” They left shortly after. Praise Amma!
Then there was the older couple sitting playing cards, and the man is condescending asking the woman, where the 11th card is. “I know I dealt it to you, where is it? I know I gave it to you”, to which she replied something in a dejected tone I couldn’t make out, to which the man roared, “So you screwed up! You screwed it up! Oh it doesn’t matter anyway!” I chided over to them, “She’s got it up her sleeve! And laughed affectionately toward them” The joke was wasted, The man only asked me who I was talking to; there was no one else in the room. No one laughed; they left shortly after. Amma bless them both.
That’s when my song came on…
Let this be our little secret, no one needs to know or hear it… higher and higher and higher… higher and higher and higher
A family of four just entered, grandma, pa, ma, and daughter about 12. They’re getting ready to play some partner card game. Ma asks daughter if she want’s to be on pa’s team, to which she replies a most sorrowful and distant, “I don’t care” I smiled at her, and stirred up a conversation. Turns out she was 11 and sad about being too old to hang out with the young kids and too young for the “teen zone”. She was not interested in playing cards, but keeps looking over at me; smile back. Amma smiles for everyone.
Bridget is angry. After a coffee, and light breakfast, and naked sunbath on our balcony suite; (which we were upgraded to by waiting till the very last minute to check in, nearly missing the cruise entirely) I told her I needed to get on the internet, maybe play some poker, and then wanted to do some writing. I asked her if she wanted to meet up at 4pm for the pilates course. She replied yes, but then asked me to wait for her, so we could leave the room together. She then followed me to the casino, around the ship, and then to the internet lounge, where she hovered over me, as I sent a message to Alex via Facebook, asking her if she would ship the gifts I got for my new California friends, at the ashram. This did not please Bridget. She asked me angrily if I had fallen in love out there in California; to which I replied, “Yes, with a lot of people”. She was not amused, and her reply was not pleasant; though I can’t say I remember what she said. I only remember saying in reply, “I’ll see you at four for Pilates, please leave me. Amma love her.
Well what am I trying to say here?
I guess it’s that even on a majestic floating city, where every physical and mental need, is catered to and even over exaggeratedly met, so many people are utterly miserable.
A grossly overweight woman walks in, carrying a plate of desserts, not smiling.
First, they make me feel grateful…
For the fact that I am me and none other, living in the grace of the divine, and in possession of the indescribable secret to joy; and though it has nothing to do with where you are, what you have, or who you are with; it is the key to the enjoyment of all these fruits of life.
Ok, ok, I’ll tell you; it’s simply bringing loving awareness to every situation and compassion to every person. That’s it.
So secondly, I have made a change. In seeing Amma in every person, like my mantra instructor said, I can see that we are all on some version, and at some stage of the path to becoming enlightened. And every step is beautiful in it’s own right, and more so, in it’s contribution to the million color patchwork that is the path from utter darkness to absolute light.
A side note, I look up from the computer and the card room is nearly full now, mostly with smiles, and one couple arguing over the rules to some game called “Mastermind”, (ironic no?) but mostly smiles, even our little pre-teen, (we keep flirting).
Pa from the foursome continues our conversation from earlier, and asks, “if I may interrupt you, what is this experiment in writing you are working on?” to which I reply, I’m about half way through an undertaking in practicing optimism in my life, and I’m writing about the experience as I go.”
Ma asks me if I’m going to do the same thing with pessimism after, to which I reply, “I’m pretty sure I know where that leads, and it’s what made me want to try the optimism thing.”
Smiles around. And the room lightens.
The man then says to me and over to his wife, “you know who you remind me of…?
I reply my standard answer to this nearly daily question I’m asked, “I if I only had a dollar for every time I was asked that question…”
“Our son in law Michael,” and to his wife, “not how he looks, but how he… I don’t know, how he talks I guess.”
But I don’t think it’s how I “talk”, and I don’t think it’s Michael that they see. It’s probably Amma.
P.S. just so we’re clear, I don’t mean, Amma, the Guru that is our new super awesome Messiah walking the earth now. I’m not joining a cult, or turning devotee, not just yet anyway. Now, maybe, if there’s some water walking going on in front of me or something; even water into wine would be leave room for doubt. What I mean is that the Amma, the enlightened being in me that is the enlightened being in you, and everybody, is easily recognizable as a common characteristic seen in those who reveal it by sharing it with others.
Namaste
God is with me…
I am sitting in the card room on the 12th floor of the cruise ship Norwegian Dawn. A huge smile on my face and a tear in my eye. My theme song is playing on the public P.A. “Little Secrets” by Passion Pit. I don’t know how they got it in the rotation, considering it’s a relatively new song, and not a popular song by any means. Maybe Amma did it : )
I’ve just finished saying my mantra the recommended 108 times or so (who’s counting) in the chapel here on deck 12, staring out into the vastness of the sea of the Caribbean, rather than at the metal cross bearing a very sad looking, slumping Jesus, hanging by nails, with thorny crown. I thought, seeing as my mantra inspiration was joy, poor Jesus would be an inappropriate object to meditate on.
I am pure joy, and I have to say that mention of this exercise in optimism cannot be ignored. At the ashram, the gentleman who explained to me the mantra given to me by Amma, explained to me also that I should, like I mentioned, say my mantra 108 times daily, while , (and said in a wonderful Punjab accent) “focusing on something joyful; perhaps Amma laughing, as there’s nothing more joyful as seeing Amma laugh.” Also he further explained; I should try to see Amma in every person and this has been a truly wild exercise as I walk the the pool deck, passing the man drinking a bucket of beer, with the tee-shirt reading, “I’m right 96% of the time, and who cares about 4%. Cheers to Amma.
Here in the card room, before I began to type, two boys were playing spades with their father who was about to smack the older of them for telling his brother the wrong rules to the game so he could beat him, to which the younger started mimicking Donald Trump screeching,” You’re fired!” to the older. The older kept saying in response, “only Donald Trump can say that” to which the younger replied repeatedly “I just said it, you’re fired, you’re fired, I said it, you’re fired” They left shortly after. Praise Amma!
Then there was the older couple sitting playing cards, and the man is condescending asking the woman, where the 11th card is. “I know I dealt it to you, where is it? I know I gave it to you”, to which she replied something in a dejected tone I couldn’t make out, to which the man roared, “So you screwed up! You screwed it up! Oh it doesn’t matter anyway!” I chided over to them, “She’s got it up her sleeve! And laughed affectionately toward them” The joke was wasted, The man only asked me who I was talking to; there was no one else in the room. No one laughed; they left shortly after. Amma bless them both.
That’s when my song came on…
Let this be our little secret, no one needs to know or hear it… higher and higher and higher… higher and higher and higher
A family of four just entered, grandma, pa, ma, and daughter about 12. They’re getting ready to play some partner card game. Ma asks daughter if she want’s to be on pa’s team, to which she replies a most sorrowful and distant, “I don’t care” I smiled at her, and stirred up a conversation. Turns out she was 11 and sad about being too old to hang out with the young kids and too young for the “teen zone”. She was not interested in playing cards, but keeps looking over at me; smile back. Amma smiles for everyone.
Bridget is angry. After a coffee, and light breakfast, and naked sunbath on our balcony suite; (which we were upgraded to by waiting till the very last minute to check in, nearly missing the cruise entirely) I told her I needed to get on the internet, maybe play some poker, and then wanted to do some writing. I asked her if she wanted to meet up at 4pm for the pilates course. She replied yes, but then asked me to wait for her, so we could leave the room together. She then followed me to the casino, around the ship, and then to the internet lounge, where she hovered over me, as I sent a message to Alex via Facebook, asking her if she would ship the gifts I got for my new California friends, at the ashram. This did not please Bridget. She asked me angrily if I had fallen in love out there in California; to which I replied, “Yes, with a lot of people”. She was not amused, and her reply was not pleasant; though I can’t say I remember what she said. I only remember saying in reply, “I’ll see you at four for Pilates, please leave me. Amma love her.
Well what am I trying to say here?
I guess it’s that even on a majestic floating city, where every physical and mental need, is catered to and even over exaggeratedly met, so many people are utterly miserable.
A grossly overweight woman walks in, carrying a plate of desserts, not smiling.
First, they make me feel grateful…
For the fact that I am me and none other, living in the grace of the divine, and in possession of the indescribable secret to joy; and though it has nothing to do with where you are, what you have, or who you are with; it is the key to the enjoyment of all these fruits of life.
Ok, ok, I’ll tell you; it’s simply bringing loving awareness to every situation and compassion to every person. That’s it.
So secondly, I have made a change. In seeing Amma in every person, like my mantra instructor said, I can see that we are all on some version, and at some stage of the path to becoming enlightened. And every step is beautiful in it’s own right, and more so, in it’s contribution to the million color patchwork that is the path from utter darkness to absolute light.
A side note, I look up from the computer and the card room is nearly full now, mostly with smiles, and one couple arguing over the rules to some game called “Mastermind”, (ironic no?) but mostly smiles, even our little pre-teen, (we keep flirting).
Pa from the foursome continues our conversation from earlier, and asks, “if I may interrupt you, what is this experiment in writing you are working on?” to which I reply, I’m about half way through an undertaking in practicing optimism in my life, and I’m writing about the experience as I go.”
Ma asks me if I’m going to do the same thing with pessimism after, to which I reply, “I’m pretty sure I know where that leads, and it’s what made me want to try the optimism thing.”
Smiles around. And the room lightens.
The man then says to me and over to his wife, “you know who you remind me of…?
I reply my standard answer to this nearly daily question I’m asked, “I if I only had a dollar for every time I was asked that question…”
“Our son in law Michael,” and to his wife, “not how he looks, but how he… I don’t know, how he talks I guess.”
But I don’t think it’s how I “talk”, and I don’t think it’s Michael that they see. It’s probably Amma.
P.S. just so we’re clear, I don’t mean, Amma, the Guru that is our new super awesome Messiah walking the earth now. I’m not joining a cult, or turning devotee, not just yet anyway. Now, maybe, if there’s some water walking going on in front of me or something; even water into wine would be leave room for doubt. What I mean is that the Amma, the enlightened being in me that is the enlightened being in you, and everybody, is easily recognizable as a common characteristic seen in those who reveal it by sharing it with others.
Namaste
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
I have decided that angels are not silly winged white gowned cherubs, but rather the invisible whisper in the ear of people to do or say things they haven't had s chance to think about. Case in point, the black guy in the bronco gave me the big thumbs up and called out the window to me as I was strolling my son to the park, "way to go, good job buddy!" with the nicest smile you ever saw. I mean why the he'll would a stranger do that? I wasn't a hero, I was just really stressed out and had to take this kid for a walk. It was strange, and random, and it pulled me out of the feeling like I was a terrible dad. Then there was the aids face and that angel.
optimism while scared shitless
Nov 16th 2010
2am on flight to sfo
Jesus fucking tap dancing Christ, this plane is bouncing around like a pin ball about to earn a free game! A note here to the indiscriminate God I pray to; when I asked you to help me get over my fear of flying, I didn’t mean shake it the hell out of me at 10,000 feet, over and over again, flight after flight. I swear! It’s been every time I get in the air for the past five years at least. Like I’m just close enough for the good lord to rail his fist at me, and he’s making good use of the opportunity. Why not strike me down? Why not just a simple bolt of lightning, or an exploding engine, or flock of misdirected geese flying south late due to global warming? Oh I know damn well why? That would be way too easy! The sweet release of empty painless black nothingness. No more bills, or backache, or dealing with shitty renters, no more painful lessons learned, or agonizing over passing them on to others who will inevitably have to learn them on their own anyway. No, no, death by plane crash is for happy people with no heavy class load of life learning in process. Flight 305 to San Francisco, you can thank me for keeping you safe during this rodeo bull ride flight; but no thanks is necessary, I suck the sweet nectar from within this bitter flower of life any chance I get. It’s thanks enough that you all follow the rules enough to allow me to dance around them. You get in line for check in when they call your zone; I never do, I always wait until your on board. You bitch at the flight gate attendant about our six hour delay, while I smile at them before I go get a yummy meal with the free meal vouchers they gave out because you pitched a fit. You sit there waiting…
Who the hell keeps farting!!!???
I hope that’s not me. I mean I have been a little but I swear, they haven’t been stinky. Not like that anyway! The old lady keeps putting her handkerchief up to her nose, ha! A slick diversionary tactic; but it’s probably your diversion to cover up for your husband… or it’s me. We’ll never know.
Anyway, your there waiting there wondering oh flight 305, if we’re going to even take off at all, probably whining to your neighbor about it, and how you’re not going to make your date tonight. Poor things, I’ve already got a free hotel, ride to my rental car, drinks, a $25 credit, and a full refund of my fare.
This is optimism in practice! (you thought I forgot) Well, it’s optimism, and the experience of having this kind of thing happen before not too long ago. (I want to say it was in Miami on the way home from St. John V.I.) And this is the opportunity to interject a little point I wanted to make, but didn’t know where to…
Dwelling on past injustices only makes you feel bad, it never helps, it’s past tense pessimism, and can only put that energy into your future present. Not that you should forget, no, not at all, you should learn from the experience and get free stuff!!!
No, that one was definitely not me! At least that time. I wanna say it came from in front of me but the blower is coming from the left and it’s hard to say.
Anyway, I snuck on the flight anyway, and so did the five other people I told to call in and get refunds. Yes there’s a reason my our ticket aren’t reading honey, it’s because we’ve been refunded and cleared from the system (we’ll see if the refund sticks); but if it does, I’m gonna call “guest relations” like the lady on the phone said to, and tell them how “inconvenienced” I was by the whole debacle and maybe even get a free flight for not telling all my friends via FaceBook, and my loud mouth, how much you screwed up my travel plans, Virgin America.
Ok, that one was me, but the plane was shaking really bad, and I’m not going to make this poor old couple get up for me to go to the bathroom. They probably can’t smell anyway, and that whiny little brat in front of me deserves it; and so does his mom for not teaching him some patience, “I want a diet Coke! I want diet Coke mommy! Ahhhh, I want diet coke, diet cooooke! Who the hell let’s their kid have diet Coke anyway?
But Oh, Virgin America, how you dolled out the vouchers, and free headphones, and wooed and apologized, and how fancy and stylish your planes are, and with your little in-seat t.v.’s I can watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart while reading his book, “Naked Pictures of Famous People”, which I must say is utter trash. I mean, and let me say as a huge Jon Stewart fan, this book is only moderately funny at best toilet reading and/or a quick inside joke for Jews; which as it’s a national best seller, goes to show that at least in 1998, there were lot’s of people reading on the toilet, and lot’s of Jews desperately looking for a new Woody Allen. This book does not showcase the now seen talents of our Jew-star of today, who I recently traveled a thousand miles to see speak at a rally in Washington D.C. . No, this book pretty much just stinks.
Speaking of, I’ve got to make these poor folks get up, I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what the hell they put in that free voucher smoothie, but it’s not only keeping me protected from illness with it’s green tea antioxidants, it’s fighting them off by creating a methane cloud three feet in every direction.
So apparently it has, come down to shit, as it so often does…
I can tell by the look of the quintessentially gay steward that he is assuming that, judging by amount of time I spent in the restroom, I just rubbed one off. Well, sorry buddy, I took care of that on the two hour drive from Sarasota to Orlando, and I’m not a two in a day kind of chap.
On the way back to my seat, I was hit with some serious mustard gas, just about where I left a fog of my own on the way to the restroom. That’s karma! And now the elderly couple has made a surprise move and switched seats with each other. But why? Is it because the lady is embarrassed about her emanations, and wants to share them with the other passengers, or because she thinks the extra two feet will help dissipate my intrusions into her nasal passageways. Nope, it’s so her husband can join forces with me in our harmony of nasal offending orchestra. I swear it’s not him alone though, this whole flight has fucked up gas! Damn those vouchers!
So as I was saying, this book I’m reading is shit. Pure and utter shit. It is also a national best seller, and a short, segmented, 1000 word average per entry read.
Oh, my God!!! We are bouncing around like a crack head who just won a $50 lottery scratch off. The elderly couple are looking nervous, but I can see their comfort in being perplexed about how I can be typing right now. I don’t give a fuck! That’s why I’m typing, we’re either gonna crash or we ain’t! And, if we don’t I wanna get this finished! Bring it on, atmospheric disturbances!!! Ahh!!!
Sop, theis book, sheit, besat selleeir. Sheort, ssegffmenteed, 19300 weorrds whatoeifever…
No, seriously, it’s like that.
Oh, really,??? Now? I guess being scared witless and jarred might make you let one go, but come on, on top of all this?! Maybe grandpa filled his Depends. I wouldn’t blame him at this point. I’m glad I went earlier! I can’t even remember what the hell I was writing about. At least if the oxygen masks come down, we can get some fresh air…
And now a low laptop battery warning! Hahaha! Maddening! I love it!
Well, real quick…
The book… shit… but wildly inspiring.
It’s always worthless comedy or dry self help, why never both?
So that’s what I’m gonna shoot for, and that’s why this flight is not gonna crash. (maybe)
I see that this is the meaning of my life, at least for today, assuming we don’t crash. (again, big maybe)
I will assume, (upon landing) that the world needs my humor, with a side helping of “hey, no, really, I’m that fucked up and I can do it. So can you.”
I promise only my honesty, and to do my best, (which may suck, and be lazy from time to time).
(2 hrs later)
We landed!!! It’s a sign. The world needs me. I knew it.
So about this optimism…
2am on flight to sfo
Jesus fucking tap dancing Christ, this plane is bouncing around like a pin ball about to earn a free game! A note here to the indiscriminate God I pray to; when I asked you to help me get over my fear of flying, I didn’t mean shake it the hell out of me at 10,000 feet, over and over again, flight after flight. I swear! It’s been every time I get in the air for the past five years at least. Like I’m just close enough for the good lord to rail his fist at me, and he’s making good use of the opportunity. Why not strike me down? Why not just a simple bolt of lightning, or an exploding engine, or flock of misdirected geese flying south late due to global warming? Oh I know damn well why? That would be way too easy! The sweet release of empty painless black nothingness. No more bills, or backache, or dealing with shitty renters, no more painful lessons learned, or agonizing over passing them on to others who will inevitably have to learn them on their own anyway. No, no, death by plane crash is for happy people with no heavy class load of life learning in process. Flight 305 to San Francisco, you can thank me for keeping you safe during this rodeo bull ride flight; but no thanks is necessary, I suck the sweet nectar from within this bitter flower of life any chance I get. It’s thanks enough that you all follow the rules enough to allow me to dance around them. You get in line for check in when they call your zone; I never do, I always wait until your on board. You bitch at the flight gate attendant about our six hour delay, while I smile at them before I go get a yummy meal with the free meal vouchers they gave out because you pitched a fit. You sit there waiting…
Who the hell keeps farting!!!???
I hope that’s not me. I mean I have been a little but I swear, they haven’t been stinky. Not like that anyway! The old lady keeps putting her handkerchief up to her nose, ha! A slick diversionary tactic; but it’s probably your diversion to cover up for your husband… or it’s me. We’ll never know.
Anyway, your there waiting there wondering oh flight 305, if we’re going to even take off at all, probably whining to your neighbor about it, and how you’re not going to make your date tonight. Poor things, I’ve already got a free hotel, ride to my rental car, drinks, a $25 credit, and a full refund of my fare.
This is optimism in practice! (you thought I forgot) Well, it’s optimism, and the experience of having this kind of thing happen before not too long ago. (I want to say it was in Miami on the way home from St. John V.I.) And this is the opportunity to interject a little point I wanted to make, but didn’t know where to…
Dwelling on past injustices only makes you feel bad, it never helps, it’s past tense pessimism, and can only put that energy into your future present. Not that you should forget, no, not at all, you should learn from the experience and get free stuff!!!
No, that one was definitely not me! At least that time. I wanna say it came from in front of me but the blower is coming from the left and it’s hard to say.
Anyway, I snuck on the flight anyway, and so did the five other people I told to call in and get refunds. Yes there’s a reason my our ticket aren’t reading honey, it’s because we’ve been refunded and cleared from the system (we’ll see if the refund sticks); but if it does, I’m gonna call “guest relations” like the lady on the phone said to, and tell them how “inconvenienced” I was by the whole debacle and maybe even get a free flight for not telling all my friends via FaceBook, and my loud mouth, how much you screwed up my travel plans, Virgin America.
Ok, that one was me, but the plane was shaking really bad, and I’m not going to make this poor old couple get up for me to go to the bathroom. They probably can’t smell anyway, and that whiny little brat in front of me deserves it; and so does his mom for not teaching him some patience, “I want a diet Coke! I want diet Coke mommy! Ahhhh, I want diet coke, diet cooooke! Who the hell let’s their kid have diet Coke anyway?
But Oh, Virgin America, how you dolled out the vouchers, and free headphones, and wooed and apologized, and how fancy and stylish your planes are, and with your little in-seat t.v.’s I can watch The Daily Show with Jon Stewart while reading his book, “Naked Pictures of Famous People”, which I must say is utter trash. I mean, and let me say as a huge Jon Stewart fan, this book is only moderately funny at best toilet reading and/or a quick inside joke for Jews; which as it’s a national best seller, goes to show that at least in 1998, there were lot’s of people reading on the toilet, and lot’s of Jews desperately looking for a new Woody Allen. This book does not showcase the now seen talents of our Jew-star of today, who I recently traveled a thousand miles to see speak at a rally in Washington D.C. . No, this book pretty much just stinks.
Speaking of, I’ve got to make these poor folks get up, I can’t take it anymore. I don’t know what the hell they put in that free voucher smoothie, but it’s not only keeping me protected from illness with it’s green tea antioxidants, it’s fighting them off by creating a methane cloud three feet in every direction.
So apparently it has, come down to shit, as it so often does…
I can tell by the look of the quintessentially gay steward that he is assuming that, judging by amount of time I spent in the restroom, I just rubbed one off. Well, sorry buddy, I took care of that on the two hour drive from Sarasota to Orlando, and I’m not a two in a day kind of chap.
On the way back to my seat, I was hit with some serious mustard gas, just about where I left a fog of my own on the way to the restroom. That’s karma! And now the elderly couple has made a surprise move and switched seats with each other. But why? Is it because the lady is embarrassed about her emanations, and wants to share them with the other passengers, or because she thinks the extra two feet will help dissipate my intrusions into her nasal passageways. Nope, it’s so her husband can join forces with me in our harmony of nasal offending orchestra. I swear it’s not him alone though, this whole flight has fucked up gas! Damn those vouchers!
So as I was saying, this book I’m reading is shit. Pure and utter shit. It is also a national best seller, and a short, segmented, 1000 word average per entry read.
Oh, my God!!! We are bouncing around like a crack head who just won a $50 lottery scratch off. The elderly couple are looking nervous, but I can see their comfort in being perplexed about how I can be typing right now. I don’t give a fuck! That’s why I’m typing, we’re either gonna crash or we ain’t! And, if we don’t I wanna get this finished! Bring it on, atmospheric disturbances!!! Ahh!!!
Sop, theis book, sheit, besat selleeir. Sheort, ssegffmenteed, 19300 weorrds whatoeifever…
No, seriously, it’s like that.
Oh, really,??? Now? I guess being scared witless and jarred might make you let one go, but come on, on top of all this?! Maybe grandpa filled his Depends. I wouldn’t blame him at this point. I’m glad I went earlier! I can’t even remember what the hell I was writing about. At least if the oxygen masks come down, we can get some fresh air…
And now a low laptop battery warning! Hahaha! Maddening! I love it!
Well, real quick…
The book… shit… but wildly inspiring.
It’s always worthless comedy or dry self help, why never both?
So that’s what I’m gonna shoot for, and that’s why this flight is not gonna crash. (maybe)
I see that this is the meaning of my life, at least for today, assuming we don’t crash. (again, big maybe)
I will assume, (upon landing) that the world needs my humor, with a side helping of “hey, no, really, I’m that fucked up and I can do it. So can you.”
I promise only my honesty, and to do my best, (which may suck, and be lazy from time to time).
(2 hrs later)
We landed!!! It’s a sign. The world needs me. I knew it.
So about this optimism…
Monday, November 15, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
An eye for an eye, or a smart ass for a smart ass. Drama begets drama.
Meeting negativity with passive optimism. (basically non-perpetuation of drama)
I got a text yesterday from K today to the effect of, "So, are you putting up gaurd rails in your stairwell today to keep our son safe this week end?"
A reasonable question, unless you know K. Again, as I recieved the text my son was sleeping here in my room, safe and sound. I haven't let him run up and down the stairwell while I'm in the other room drinking a beer and smoking crack, not even once! I'm a great dad. Now my darling baby mama, who was about to take Kai to the emergency room, because he was crying, rubbing his eye, and hot (more than likely from crying really hard) has been having nightmares about him falling down the stairwell. I admit I have gone through it once or twice in my mind, but again, I don't let him in the stairwell alone and the doors have latches he can't reach. The point here is that every day it's something else; put up his tree swing, check out my electrical box, move me and my parents into one of your houses and charge us next to nothing in rent, do you have any extra contact lens solution, case for my iphone, spare pancreas (for the diabetes).
Side note from your pal about being super careful about who you have sex with; the condom could always break; and if she ever tells you she can't get pregnant, don't believe her; I promise you, unless she's post menopausal, she doesn't know for sure. Take it from me kids, you might just find yourself on a friday night, wanting to go out to a party or a really great concert in orlando (Theivery Corporation & Massive Attack), but have to settle for warming up a bottle of milk, puttin' on some Barney, and trying not to get too much poop on your hands, or the floor, or everywhere, while the cutest little face (hopefully) looks up at you laughing, or crying hysterically (depending on their mood and if they had a nap)
Today's nap is going well. So it will probably be smiles, and I'm not too tired to write about this little optimism project of mine, and about yesterday's text, and it's obvious subersive method of controling me from afar via sarcastic guilt tripping. i.e. if you don't put up railings today you don't love your son... huh? what? I didn't hear you, I was too busy hitting the pipe in the other room, Oh shit, where's Kai?!!
So I responded to K about when her folks were coming to pick up Kai, and just skipped past any possible escalation point. Don't get me wrong, I had written up a zinger of a snappy comback and had my finger on the send button, but after a moment of pondering and going through the last ten times this same moment had occured. 50% of these had involve, at some point, a threat to me of going to court; why, I'm not sure. I pay far more than the state minimum, and show no income. I assume it's more of the inconvienience and potential for a state mandated anal probe that would inspire the kind of fear a single mother (who thought having a child would make a guy leave another woman for her) would want to envoke in a guy (who has reluctantly entered father hood, and would have quite possible left the other woman for said mother had it not been for the bombshell of not being made part of the decision to become a parent)
Yes, I am that guy. Only my episode of Jerry Springer wouldn't have been that funny, because I know how to speak proper english. I mean really? who wants to watch that? It's the crazy drama of people reacting unconciously to one another that people want to see; and personally I'd rather be happy than famous, if that's what it takes. I hate the real house wives shows, and the "real" world, and all those damn reality contest shows. In my reality show, I want to be the guy that helps people solve their problems by offering some great zen koan and watching them squirm over it, while mosey on, sipping a scotch. Now, that's a show I'd watch!
"So maybe have your parents pick him up around 4?"
P.S. the grandparents showed up at four to take kai to the circus; and a moment of thinking about the possible positive outcomes equaled no nasty text back, no escalation, no headache, no drama, no wasted energy. I gave myself a pat on the back, and a thank you to optimism! Truely though it was the thinking back to all the bullshit past that made the difference, so, thank you optimism for making me take the moment to observe myself, and think about things.
I got a text yesterday from K today to the effect of, "So, are you putting up gaurd rails in your stairwell today to keep our son safe this week end?"
A reasonable question, unless you know K. Again, as I recieved the text my son was sleeping here in my room, safe and sound. I haven't let him run up and down the stairwell while I'm in the other room drinking a beer and smoking crack, not even once! I'm a great dad. Now my darling baby mama, who was about to take Kai to the emergency room, because he was crying, rubbing his eye, and hot (more than likely from crying really hard) has been having nightmares about him falling down the stairwell. I admit I have gone through it once or twice in my mind, but again, I don't let him in the stairwell alone and the doors have latches he can't reach. The point here is that every day it's something else; put up his tree swing, check out my electrical box, move me and my parents into one of your houses and charge us next to nothing in rent, do you have any extra contact lens solution, case for my iphone, spare pancreas (for the diabetes).
Side note from your pal about being super careful about who you have sex with; the condom could always break; and if she ever tells you she can't get pregnant, don't believe her; I promise you, unless she's post menopausal, she doesn't know for sure. Take it from me kids, you might just find yourself on a friday night, wanting to go out to a party or a really great concert in orlando (Theivery Corporation & Massive Attack), but have to settle for warming up a bottle of milk, puttin' on some Barney, and trying not to get too much poop on your hands, or the floor, or everywhere, while the cutest little face (hopefully) looks up at you laughing, or crying hysterically (depending on their mood and if they had a nap)
Today's nap is going well. So it will probably be smiles, and I'm not too tired to write about this little optimism project of mine, and about yesterday's text, and it's obvious subersive method of controling me from afar via sarcastic guilt tripping. i.e. if you don't put up railings today you don't love your son... huh? what? I didn't hear you, I was too busy hitting the pipe in the other room, Oh shit, where's Kai?!!
So I responded to K about when her folks were coming to pick up Kai, and just skipped past any possible escalation point. Don't get me wrong, I had written up a zinger of a snappy comback and had my finger on the send button, but after a moment of pondering and going through the last ten times this same moment had occured. 50% of these had involve, at some point, a threat to me of going to court; why, I'm not sure. I pay far more than the state minimum, and show no income. I assume it's more of the inconvienience and potential for a state mandated anal probe that would inspire the kind of fear a single mother (who thought having a child would make a guy leave another woman for her) would want to envoke in a guy (who has reluctantly entered father hood, and would have quite possible left the other woman for said mother had it not been for the bombshell of not being made part of the decision to become a parent)
Yes, I am that guy. Only my episode of Jerry Springer wouldn't have been that funny, because I know how to speak proper english. I mean really? who wants to watch that? It's the crazy drama of people reacting unconciously to one another that people want to see; and personally I'd rather be happy than famous, if that's what it takes. I hate the real house wives shows, and the "real" world, and all those damn reality contest shows. In my reality show, I want to be the guy that helps people solve their problems by offering some great zen koan and watching them squirm over it, while mosey on, sipping a scotch. Now, that's a show I'd watch!
"So maybe have your parents pick him up around 4?"
P.S. the grandparents showed up at four to take kai to the circus; and a moment of thinking about the possible positive outcomes equaled no nasty text back, no escalation, no headache, no drama, no wasted energy. I gave myself a pat on the back, and a thank you to optimism! Truely though it was the thinking back to all the bullshit past that made the difference, so, thank you optimism for making me take the moment to observe myself, and think about things.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Optimism does not mean you have to like everything.
Optimism does not mean you have to like everything. Some shit just sucks. Like lifting heavy shit when your back hurts, for the umteenth time. In this example, I could have been considered to be acting "negative", but in fact, if you look at it from my "optimistic" perspective, this was simply asserting my lack of interest in the activity she was directing, and I didn't care to participate. She is always welcome to not like it that I instead chose to putz around the yard, clearing out a spot for a little path which in my fantasy leads to a deck with an outdoor shower and hot tub (oh joy!!!)
what would have been bad was to have stuck around to move things room to room and scowled the entire time and certainly well after, and into the night, and wake up pissed off in the morning due to a sore back. That would have been crazy!
Unfortunately, this is exactly what I did in regard to my job last month.
Optimism does not necessarily mean having a positive attitude... Or does it?
Optimism
noun
1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.
2. the belief that good ultimately predominates over evil in the world.
3. the belief that goodness pervades reality.
4. the doctrine that the existing world is the best of all possible worlds.
Origin:
1730–40; < F optimisme < L optim
—Synonyms
1. confidence, hopefulness, cheerfulness.
—Antonyms
1, 2. pessimism, cynicism.
Positivity
Emphasizing what is laudable, hopeful, or to the good; constructive: a positive attitude toward the future; positive things to say about a painting.
Hmm... I guess so
what would have been bad was to have stuck around to move things room to room and scowled the entire time and certainly well after, and into the night, and wake up pissed off in the morning due to a sore back. That would have been crazy!
Unfortunately, this is exactly what I did in regard to my job last month.
Optimism does not necessarily mean having a positive attitude... Or does it?
Optimism
noun
1. a disposition or tendency to look on the more favorable side of events or conditions and to expect the most favorable outcome.
2. the belief that good ultimately predominates over evil in the world.
3. the belief that goodness pervades reality.
4. the doctrine that the existing world is the best of all possible worlds.
Origin:
1730–40; < F optimisme < L optim
—Synonyms
1. confidence, hopefulness, cheerfulness.
—Antonyms
1, 2. pessimism, cynicism.
Positivity
Emphasizing what is laudable, hopeful, or to the good; constructive: a positive attitude toward the future; positive things to say about a painting.
Hmm... I guess so
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Are you being negative?
I wish I could really explain the shrill, "I told you so", nag of the tone she used.
"Are You being negative?" Bridget said to me.
I simplys said, "no", outloud; but in my head it sounded more like, "screw you, you condescending bitch! I'll be however I damn please!"
Note to anyone attempting a stint of "optimism" such as this, don't tell anyone, they'll just hold over your head the entire time, just waiting to smile their big shit eating grin at you when you're not being optimistic to their standards. Or maybe that's just my girlfriend.
Her charming comment had been in response to my telling her that I didn't like her new set up in our den, and that I thought it was just fine the way it was before. I also told her that I wanted the house put back together by the end of the day, and that I didn't know why she had to constantly move the furniture around our house. That's when I got the sound bite. (I wonder if I could post my impression of it on the blog? something to look into.)
I didn't recall telling her; I suspect that she's read my blog somehow. She would deny it, but I know her, definately the kind of person who would read someone's diary. I will admit, this whole thing was her idea, bitch! Still, it's none of her business. I've changed my login password to the site. I require privacy, when getting intamite, at least literarily.
So needless to say, I didn't like here telling me her opinion of my level of optimism, and I didn't like the room.
The lesson of today is Love it or leave it, or at least stop bitching if you're not gonna leave.
insert killian's mom... talking about her foreclosure sob stories, and ongoing problems with employees, and why she doen't like leaf blowers beacuse they're obnotious.
insert Suzanne bitching about all the people in her life and all the drama she has all the time; she even rehashes old stories of drama, time and time again (now that her memory is starting to go a bit).
Just some examples of people who, now that I'm trying to practice optimism, I've noticed when I'm involved in conversations drenched in pessimism.
"Are You being negative?" Bridget said to me.
I simplys said, "no", outloud; but in my head it sounded more like, "screw you, you condescending bitch! I'll be however I damn please!"
Note to anyone attempting a stint of "optimism" such as this, don't tell anyone, they'll just hold over your head the entire time, just waiting to smile their big shit eating grin at you when you're not being optimistic to their standards. Or maybe that's just my girlfriend.
Her charming comment had been in response to my telling her that I didn't like her new set up in our den, and that I thought it was just fine the way it was before. I also told her that I wanted the house put back together by the end of the day, and that I didn't know why she had to constantly move the furniture around our house. That's when I got the sound bite. (I wonder if I could post my impression of it on the blog? something to look into.)
I didn't recall telling her; I suspect that she's read my blog somehow. She would deny it, but I know her, definately the kind of person who would read someone's diary. I will admit, this whole thing was her idea, bitch! Still, it's none of her business. I've changed my login password to the site. I require privacy, when getting intamite, at least literarily.
So needless to say, I didn't like here telling me her opinion of my level of optimism, and I didn't like the room.
The lesson of today is Love it or leave it, or at least stop bitching if you're not gonna leave.
insert killian's mom... talking about her foreclosure sob stories, and ongoing problems with employees, and why she doen't like leaf blowers beacuse they're obnotious.
insert Suzanne bitching about all the people in her life and all the drama she has all the time; she even rehashes old stories of drama, time and time again (now that her memory is starting to go a bit).
Just some examples of people who, now that I'm trying to practice optimism, I've noticed when I'm involved in conversations drenched in pessimism.
optimism in the face of...
Saturday, November 6, 2010
my day began with the following text from kai's (my 20 month old son) mom...
Dear other parents,
Andre having Kai every three weeks whenever he wants to isn't going to fly with me anymore it will be every other weekend and once during the week or i guess we can go to court to set up visitation we saw him just as much living in parrish but now he knows and misses Sick of da da da da all the fucking time pretty much seeing the future of him being disappointed by not seeing you both regularly and its only going to get harder if you two aren't regular people in his life. I told andre when he first said he wanted to be involved that yes he so could as long as he was going to be a positive constant...? I get it your busy you guys are doing things that are very important i don't care about those things I care about you and he making Kai fit in your lives shit has got to Change!
Truly,
-fed the heck up
yup, all that in one text...
I didn't wake up until after the next one came.
It went as follows...
Ok so clearly i woke up on the wrong side of the bed had awful dreams of the future that doesn't need to happen, I know that most of what you do is for your business but there has to be some balance with all responsibilities juggled and taken care of. And Kai is a major one and the most fun R word. The only other truly important one I'd say. So we need a sit down with a calendar and a book of rules guidelines and expectations for all involved . If you guys are for real forever like you say you are then this is just as much Bridget's concern as it is yours. Kai and the cat box are so fucking not the same. You can choose to get rid of cats.
Just a short rebuttle; the thing that we do is have a job that pays her $400 a month child support, and keeps up the house her and her family live in $500 a month lest that market rate.
So she can go to "Afterburn".
Fact is I saw Kai the day before i left, and took him a few nights before I left out of town this week; furthermore the only reason I'm not taking him this weekend is because Kari wants to go to a camping festival next week, "Afterburn" a post Burning man hippy meet up... p.s. Kai' at this moment sleeps in the "little room" i.e. the closet, here in my bedroom as I sit typing at 2am. So technically, this is partly "my" weekend too.
By the way, I'm not complaining, that kid is the cutest little thing I've ever seen; we had way too much fun today.
My point is...
I could have freaked out about kari's text.
But I didn't.
I could tell that she just needed to have a freak out. I just let her have it, guilt free.
Optimism. it is not understanding; however, they are brothers, cousins at least. What happens is, you just don't go down the line of negative outcomes that may occur due to, what you percieve as, the flamming bag of crap that got left on your door step.
So what else?
Had coffee this lovely, and I must say it was an extraordinayily beautiful aternoon, with my Psydomom and her ex-boyfriend, who is my employee and very good friend. All I can say that it was trying at best. Two catty fuckers going at it with any little jab they could think of; and from my point of view, because the missed eachother's company. Sad,sad,sad... But hearing them go at it today, Oye Yie yie!!! Painful.
And so I only mention as an observation.
It's more difficult to be optimistic in the face of bitchy people. or to be more specific, people who are bitching.
It can be done though, it just takes a lot of energy.
Yet somehow I'm up at 2:00, actually 3:00, daylight savings time; I have the energy to write this, and after having to go break up a party on my property, where this little fucker alex, keeps having throngs of drunken highschoolers show up with kegs, yelling, screaming, and fighting eachother, and that's when they're not throwing in various places, and/or stealing things on the way out the door.
Now that's not being negative; that's just what happened. I honestly felt bad for the kids as I was throwing them out. They had nowhere to go really. I remember being their age,(stupid as fuck and nowhere to go drink or smoke pot) I would have killed to hang out by the firepit we have and run around with a fifty of my friends.
The difference between my and those kids was we were always making some kind of art, some sort of production to show our talents and have a fulfilling experience. Maybe that's just my nostalgic reminisince of it, but again, at the risk of sounding like an old geezer, these kids are fucked up. But so were most of the kids that were my age back then, and so are most of the people out there today... so nothing's really different I suppose.
Here nor there, I had to kick them out tonight because they're bad for business. But it was an excuse to hang out by the fire and chat with the tennants, who banded together with me to oust the child takeover of the "compound", that's what we call it. It was a bonding experience albiet an unortodox one.
After a few hours by the fire, a puff and a couple beers, the like clockwork post 1am harrassment from the girlfriend begins. I won't get into it because it would take too much copy/pasteing from my phone; which believe it or not is now, thanks to technology, absolutely possible. here watch, I'll give you just one...
You said "oh I just want to hang out for a bit. I'll be back at 1." It's fucking 2 asshole!!!
yup, just like that. Straight from my phone; copied, pasted, and texted to the blog web-whereever, and Bam!!! right there for you to enjoy.
that was the last message; they go from cute early on, to demanding, and enevidably, to hostile by night's end.
And I get it. I guess an hour makes a big difference, but we all know, at least all of us involved in this mellow drama, know that it's just a power play. I pay for my wreckless freedom in the currency called getting bitched at.
But tonight...
not feelin' so bad about it.
Optimism.
I'll let you know all about it in 5 hours when Kai gets up and wants breakfast.
my day began with the following text from kai's (my 20 month old son) mom...
Dear other parents,
Andre having Kai every three weeks whenever he wants to isn't going to fly with me anymore it will be every other weekend and once during the week or i guess we can go to court to set up visitation we saw him just as much living in parrish but now he knows and misses Sick of da da da da all the fucking time pretty much seeing the future of him being disappointed by not seeing you both regularly and its only going to get harder if you two aren't regular people in his life. I told andre when he first said he wanted to be involved that yes he so could as long as he was going to be a positive constant...? I get it your busy you guys are doing things that are very important i don't care about those things I care about you and he making Kai fit in your lives shit has got to Change!
Truly,
-fed the heck up
yup, all that in one text...
I didn't wake up until after the next one came.
It went as follows...
Ok so clearly i woke up on the wrong side of the bed had awful dreams of the future that doesn't need to happen, I know that most of what you do is for your business but there has to be some balance with all responsibilities juggled and taken care of. And Kai is a major one and the most fun R word. The only other truly important one I'd say. So we need a sit down with a calendar and a book of rules guidelines and expectations for all involved . If you guys are for real forever like you say you are then this is just as much Bridget's concern as it is yours. Kai and the cat box are so fucking not the same. You can choose to get rid of cats.
Just a short rebuttle; the thing that we do is have a job that pays her $400 a month child support, and keeps up the house her and her family live in $500 a month lest that market rate.
So she can go to "Afterburn".
Fact is I saw Kai the day before i left, and took him a few nights before I left out of town this week; furthermore the only reason I'm not taking him this weekend is because Kari wants to go to a camping festival next week, "Afterburn" a post Burning man hippy meet up... p.s. Kai' at this moment sleeps in the "little room" i.e. the closet, here in my bedroom as I sit typing at 2am. So technically, this is partly "my" weekend too.
By the way, I'm not complaining, that kid is the cutest little thing I've ever seen; we had way too much fun today.
My point is...
I could have freaked out about kari's text.
But I didn't.
I could tell that she just needed to have a freak out. I just let her have it, guilt free.
Optimism. it is not understanding; however, they are brothers, cousins at least. What happens is, you just don't go down the line of negative outcomes that may occur due to, what you percieve as, the flamming bag of crap that got left on your door step.
So what else?
Had coffee this lovely, and I must say it was an extraordinayily beautiful aternoon, with my Psydomom and her ex-boyfriend, who is my employee and very good friend. All I can say that it was trying at best. Two catty fuckers going at it with any little jab they could think of; and from my point of view, because the missed eachother's company. Sad,sad,sad... But hearing them go at it today, Oye Yie yie!!! Painful.
And so I only mention as an observation.
It's more difficult to be optimistic in the face of bitchy people. or to be more specific, people who are bitching.
It can be done though, it just takes a lot of energy.
Yet somehow I'm up at 2:00, actually 3:00, daylight savings time; I have the energy to write this, and after having to go break up a party on my property, where this little fucker alex, keeps having throngs of drunken highschoolers show up with kegs, yelling, screaming, and fighting eachother, and that's when they're not throwing in various places, and/or stealing things on the way out the door.
Now that's not being negative; that's just what happened. I honestly felt bad for the kids as I was throwing them out. They had nowhere to go really. I remember being their age,(stupid as fuck and nowhere to go drink or smoke pot) I would have killed to hang out by the firepit we have and run around with a fifty of my friends.
The difference between my and those kids was we were always making some kind of art, some sort of production to show our talents and have a fulfilling experience. Maybe that's just my nostalgic reminisince of it, but again, at the risk of sounding like an old geezer, these kids are fucked up. But so were most of the kids that were my age back then, and so are most of the people out there today... so nothing's really different I suppose.
Here nor there, I had to kick them out tonight because they're bad for business. But it was an excuse to hang out by the fire and chat with the tennants, who banded together with me to oust the child takeover of the "compound", that's what we call it. It was a bonding experience albiet an unortodox one.
After a few hours by the fire, a puff and a couple beers, the like clockwork post 1am harrassment from the girlfriend begins. I won't get into it because it would take too much copy/pasteing from my phone; which believe it or not is now, thanks to technology, absolutely possible. here watch, I'll give you just one...
You said "oh I just want to hang out for a bit. I'll be back at 1." It's fucking 2 asshole!!!
yup, just like that. Straight from my phone; copied, pasted, and texted to the blog web-whereever, and Bam!!! right there for you to enjoy.
that was the last message; they go from cute early on, to demanding, and enevidably, to hostile by night's end.
And I get it. I guess an hour makes a big difference, but we all know, at least all of us involved in this mellow drama, know that it's just a power play. I pay for my wreckless freedom in the currency called getting bitched at.
But tonight...
not feelin' so bad about it.
Optimism.
I'll let you know all about it in 5 hours when Kai gets up and wants breakfast.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
November 4, 2010
I can't get it started.
I've done everything but put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard as it might be. I've made breakfast, had a coffee, checked my Facebook, read some of the new book i bought in new paltz, took a shit (and thank God, because i'm pretty sure it's been days). I've thought about writing, I've even started writing in my head; it was funny! great even, how clever I was. Now I just sit here at my computer and fiddle with this and that. Oh, my antivirus software needs updating... guess I can do that instead of write about this new adventure. It faild to update; thanks again Microsoft, for making windows worse every year. Well, my desktop icons could use a bit of rearranging. Oh that's muuuuch better, made a huuuuge difference! (note the sarcasm here, It's one of my best friends) Now a look around the room, yes, yes, that painting should definately be moved; and could that box sit over there in the corner for another day? Yes, but why not move it now, you know, clear up the clutter. Again to the bathroom for a number two; wow!!! this Super Colon Cleanse stuff works wonders. If only there was a super mind cleanse... I'd just take some before bed and when I woke up in the morning, or late afternoon as is often the case, the words would flow out effortlessly, more than effortlessly; an overwhelming urge to purdge the words from my mind would ensue. Just a bit painful, but coupled with the pleaseing senation of releasing the pressure of the throes of thought backed up inside my head.
It's started raining...again...
I've done everything but put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard as it might be. I've made breakfast, had a coffee, checked my Facebook, read some of the new book i bought in new paltz, took a shit (and thank God, because i'm pretty sure it's been days). I've thought about writing, I've even started writing in my head; it was funny! great even, how clever I was. Now I just sit here at my computer and fiddle with this and that. Oh, my antivirus software needs updating... guess I can do that instead of write about this new adventure. It faild to update; thanks again Microsoft, for making windows worse every year. Well, my desktop icons could use a bit of rearranging. Oh that's muuuuch better, made a huuuuge difference! (note the sarcasm here, It's one of my best friends) Now a look around the room, yes, yes, that painting should definately be moved; and could that box sit over there in the corner for another day? Yes, but why not move it now, you know, clear up the clutter. Again to the bathroom for a number two; wow!!! this Super Colon Cleanse stuff works wonders. If only there was a super mind cleanse... I'd just take some before bed and when I woke up in the morning, or late afternoon as is often the case, the words would flow out effortlessly, more than effortlessly; an overwhelming urge to purdge the words from my mind would ensue. Just a bit painful, but coupled with the pleaseing senation of releasing the pressure of the throes of thought backed up inside my head.
It's started raining...again...
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