I can hardly believe it myself, but here I am, alive, awake and sober, wondering why.
They’ve been here only a few hours and I realize it’s all the time I’ll have with them for some time to come. I watch them all step away from the porch, wave goodbye and climb into their cars, knowing that these few hours we’ve spent together will be all that we have for another few months. Did I mention that I won’t see them again for a long time? I like to think they had a good time. That they felt comfortable, happy, and loved. But how do I know for sure? I don’t. I think they’ve humored their dad. I think they really would have preferred to phone in their holiday greetings and skip the drive. But they’re my kids. They take after their dad. They’ll do their best to try and focus on making others happy. They’ll sacrifice a few hours of their time gladly if they know it will make someone else feel less lonely. I love them.
For years I tried to be like a cool friend to each of them, accompanying them into the post-college casual drug use days of the early twenties. I’m coming to terms with how this behavior doesn’t fit a 50 something year old father.
I should have been over this “phase” years ago. I should never have taken pleasure in smoking weed with my kids. I should have been an adult, a mature positive roll model for them in these important years of their youth. Every step of the way I preached the benefits of “everything in moderation” and “alcohol is the worst drug in the world”, that I’d rather see them smoking a joint rather than drinking from a bottle. They’ve all developed healthy recreational drug use habits in that, for the most part, they’re all done with doing drugs as the object of their evenings. I see in them the kind of behavior I should have adopted long before now.
I feel that my actions must be directly related to my guilt, my sadness, my longing for a chance to do things differently. When I moved away and divorced their mother, I did so because I was empty inside. I was desperate for change and the love of a different woman. How selfish I was. How selfish I am still. I try to stay closer to my kids now than I ever did. My parents were never a part of my life like I am trying to be in my kids’ lives right now. Of course, it was a much different world 30 years ago. There remained a bit of the innocence that has since vanished in our society.
How I handle these next few years will be very important in how my children perceive their father. How I move through being unemployed, poor and depressed right now into whatever the future brings, will create an opportunity to teach some good things to my kids through actions rather than just words. I hope I’ll be up to the challenges that lie ahead. I hope I don’t die before I can triumphantly stand on the other side and declare that “you can do anything if you just set your mind to it and give it your best”. So much has to change for me to be able to do just that. Correction - there’s so much that I need to change about myself in order to make that happen. I’m proud to say that I’ve cleared one major hurdle in quitting smoking 15 moths ago. Now I need to loose weight, get in shape, find love, and find the career I’m destined to succeed in before retirement time.
What is that saying? “It’s always darkest before dawn.” Well it’s pretty damn dark.
Why are we here? What purpose do we have to ourselves, to each other? How can our past influence our future? Where do I start? Where do I stop? And the biggest question of all: Why?
I sift through items in basements and closets that speak of a time gone by. So many questions fill my mind. Questions that cannot really be answered in the normal way. I am most curious about the “why” of these old things rather than the “what” or “when”. I see examples of fantastic times and great fun in my parents’ lives, and sometimes in the lives of their parents too. Photographic evidence showing that experience and memory-making had importance in the days of my elders’ lives. Tell me stories. Please enlighten me about the “why” and “how” of these moments in time! The people with the answers are all gone.
Is it selfish for me to wonder these things? Do I cry because I’ll never know what was behind the actions of my loved ones? Or is it because I regret not asking the questions when I had the chance? Was I too “busy” with my own pursuits and full of myself and my life when I should have been learning from theirs? Will my kids instinctively know better how to grow forward with their lives? Is there anything I can do now to help them avoid their own regrets? Do I have enough time left here on earth to figure out some answers?
I should write a will, a living directive outlining my wishes for what is to become of me if I grow old and senile, or if I die. I’ll work on that but my first gut feeling is that it’s pretty simple actually. My “loose ends” are my collections of “stuff” and how they should be disposed:
1. I’ve way too many 35mm cameras and associated gear that I bought on eBay with plans of selling for a profit when the time was right. I’m still waiting for that “right time” to come.
2. My vinyl record collection that served as my psychotherapy through the years. Some of those old records may be worth good money someday. I think their real value is in the music and lyrics they contain.
3. My assorted Harley parts for my two bikes. Old Sportster pieces and parts that should probably be sold off, unless I think I’ll actually get around to building another bike with them.
4. I’ve way too many Frisbees and disc golf discs which need to be sold off given that I’m pretty sure I have the 10 or 20 that I’ll use in my pursuit of that sport.
I truly wish I had amassed assets and riches to be divided equally among my children upon the event of my death. Life might be so much easier for them with just a little bit of wealth. With just enough money so that their worries may be reduced and so that they could focus their attention on what they would like to do, where they would like to do it, and how they would benefit from the experiences, rather than how they would pay for it all. (To my kids: If I have not created wealth for you before I die, I am truly sorry. If I have, then spend it wisely and save some for your childrens future!)
I think, and hope, my children will agree that I spent my energy on acquiring experiences and memories over wealth and possessions during my life. I cannot count the times I have told my kids that “There’s a BIG world out there! Go and see, grab the experience of travel and find your dreams and aspirations, and discover things!” I said this to them, I think, because I wanted it for myself, but never really made it. As a person who never really had specific dreams and aspirations, I thought that adventure in and of itself was as good a goal as anything. Unless I’m wrong, living vicariously through our children is a rather common thing, yes?
Karma can be a bitch, or so I’ve heard. Honestly, I feel I’ve tried to “spread da aloha” and put out positive vibes - create good karma whenever I could. We’ll see how that works out. Up until the end of my last relationship I have always taken pride in knowing that the women I’ve loved are still friends of mine. Now it seems that, one by one, those past lovers/friends are falling by the wayside. Karma? You tell me.
As I think of things tonight, I think of the fact that I have very few “real” friends. The kind of friends who open themselves to you in times of need. Who laugh with you to lift your spirits. Who are available because they enjoy your friendship and for no other reason. Sure I have many “regular” friends, but when I start counting I am embarrassed and a little disheartened at the results I come up with lately. I am surrounded by the past and I do not like it. I used to just visit the past once or twice a year and then jet back to my present life - wherever that was at the time. Now I feel as though I am wading in a bog of failed plans and missed opportunities - about 35 years worth. I must get through this depression I’m in. I have to “lively up myself” and make my present about the future and not about the past. “Change is always good” I’d say to my kids. “We may not know or feel it at the time things change, but it always works out and in the long run it is always good for us.” The hard part sometimes is beginning the process of change - trying to make it happen rather than just experiencing it happening to us. When I discover the secret I’ll let everybody know.
---
You meet thousands of people and none of them really touch you. And then you meet one person, and your world is changed forever.
Jan 14, 2011
Dec 13, 2010
Uh huh.
BEST television theme song EVER. That's all I'm sayin'...
Guess.
Da da duh da duh duhhh, da da duh da duh
Guess.
Da da duh da duh duhhh, da da duh da duh
Oct 12, 2010
Hippie days are here again
Frisbee golf, FROLF, or "disc golf" as it is now known is back in my life. That makes me a happy hippie!
I remember playing Frisbee everything in 1972, 73, 74 on up.. 1979 was a memorable year in that we had a North American Series of competitions at Wichita State University (where we also had been playing "object oriented" Frisbee golf for a few years). I attended, competed, got the special commemorative 119g Frisbee, t-shirt, etc.
That's also the main year of our Ultimate Frisbee experiences. We played all over southern Kansas and northern Oklahoma with teams from colleges, teams of stoners (like ours) and church groups (which was strange while we were so stoned..). We spent hours practicing freestyle tricks and spinning the Frisbees on our fingers, etc.
Good times.. good times.
I'm ready for times like those to return to my daily life. It took about 35 years but the fun and spark are back. The discs used in disc golf now sort of suck.. but I'll get used to using about 25 discs now as opposed to when the two or three Frisbees we had back in the day seemed to work just fine.
There is even a division called "Super Class" that seems tailor made for us old hippie types.. you can use the old Frisbees as well as some new larger discs that don't fit in to the current disc golf routine.
More on this later also...
I remember playing Frisbee everything in 1972, 73, 74 on up.. 1979 was a memorable year in that we had a North American Series of competitions at Wichita State University (where we also had been playing "object oriented" Frisbee golf for a few years). I attended, competed, got the special commemorative 119g Frisbee, t-shirt, etc.
That's also the main year of our Ultimate Frisbee experiences. We played all over southern Kansas and northern Oklahoma with teams from colleges, teams of stoners (like ours) and church groups (which was strange while we were so stoned..). We spent hours practicing freestyle tricks and spinning the Frisbees on our fingers, etc.
Good times.. good times.
I'm ready for times like those to return to my daily life. It took about 35 years but the fun and spark are back. The discs used in disc golf now sort of suck.. but I'll get used to using about 25 discs now as opposed to when the two or three Frisbees we had back in the day seemed to work just fine.
There is even a division called "Super Class" that seems tailor made for us old hippie types.. you can use the old Frisbees as well as some new larger discs that don't fit in to the current disc golf routine.
More on this later also...
Some kind of record.. I'm sure
27 dead animals on a recent trip to North Dakota... a huge number by any standards. How often do you see a dead animal along the side of a highway? Maybe a few skunks, a dog, opossum, maybe a stray cat, etc.
ALL 27 of these were raccoons. Every last one of them. Either a massive mid west raccoon suicide pact happened or some of them were not "accidents".. if you get my drift.
WTF?! I have never seen so many road kills in one trip. I'm thinking that around 5 or 6 was the maximum I'd ever encountered on one trip before. That record has been obliterated now.
Hmm, it could be a sign of things to come. More on this later.
ALL 27 of these were raccoons. Every last one of them. Either a massive mid west raccoon suicide pact happened or some of them were not "accidents".. if you get my drift.
WTF?! I have never seen so many road kills in one trip. I'm thinking that around 5 or 6 was the maximum I'd ever encountered on one trip before. That record has been obliterated now.
Hmm, it could be a sign of things to come. More on this later.
Sep 8, 2010
Aug 19, 2010
Drive-In theaters, bad food and America
I did something last night that I’ve not done in 15 or 20 years. I went to a drive-in movie theater. In the city where I am living, there remains a two-screen theater in the south part of town. It is a theater I remember going to when I was just a teenage kid. This theater has survived somehow for all of my years and probably for a few years before I was born. As I drove in, the memories came flooding back and experiences I had – bad and good – came right to the forefront of my thoughts. The girls I had dated at this theater, how well those dates went.. or not. Fights, drug induced trips and alcohol infused time-wasting from the ‘70’s – it all came rushing back. I pulled up to an empty spot (with only a few other cars in attendance that night there were plenty of open spots), lifted the speaker from its perch – still the same crappy speakers that were always there – placed it clumsily on my dash and watched as the ads urging me to go buy some refreshments came on the screen. I must admit that for an old drive-in theater, the screen was very bright and focused fairly well. What can I say? I pay attention to these things - it's in my line of work.
These ads were the same ones that used to run on the screens back in the late 1960’s and ‘70’s. Used nowadays, I’m sure, in an attempt by the proprietor to try and preserve the feeling of drive-in days gone by. Animated drink cups, hot dogs and ice cream treats danced their way around the screen with a small animated clock that would remind the audience of the few minutes before the show was to begin. Letting us all know that there was still time to go to the snack bar and stock up! As the clock wound down to show time and the movie previews began, I slid down in my seat and thought again of just how long it had been since I was at a drive-in theater.
The opening scene of a movie came on the screen and I knew right away that the ticket taker had told me the wrong directions and I was at the wrong movie. My movie had started a few minutes earlier at the other screen. I unhooked the speaker and drove to the other screen, set everything up again and, albeit a few minutes into the show already, slid down into my seat for a few hours of visual entertainment. The movies "The Other Guys" and "Salt" sucked – both of them – so I didn’t the experience as much as I could have – but the little things that evening are what I found to be very special indeed. The speakers used were still the same ones from “back in the day” and rough, beat-up dented things metal with volume knobs that no longer worked at all. I was to hear the sound at full blast or not at all. At the beginning of the experience a message appeared informing me that, should I choose to do so, the sound was also available on an FM frequency of my car stereo. I dialed the frequency in and sure enough, the audio was there – just as crappy as the sound coming out of the smashed metal box hanging from my dashboard. I opted to turn the car off and suffer with the old school way of hearing a movie at a drive-in.
Knowing that it may be a while before I return to a drive-in, I just had to get some bad drive-in food to accompany this experience so off to the snack bar I went. One corn dog, cheeseburger, hot dog and cotton candy later ($14.50 ?!) I returned to my car and began the feast. I cannot really explain why but bad food and bad films just seem to go together very well. I sat and watched the screen as I noticed an older man coming towards my car. He passed me and went to the speaker stand a stall or two to my left. He had a small tool belt on and it became obvious that he worked for the theater. I began watching him rather than the bad movie because he looked like the personified example of an old drive-in theater. Withered, slightly bent and crooked but still functional. He disassembled the speaker boxes with confident familiarity and looked as though he had been doing so for many years. I began formulating an idea for filming a documentary about the demise of the drive-in movie theaters in America and decided right then to have this gentleman be the focus and central unifying figure in my film. He must have seen it all, this nameless man, as he was many years older than I and clearly the captain of this old drive-in ship. Having him tell the tales of his experiences and offer his opinions of what has transpired over the last 60 years would anchor my film and bring a face to the history. The he pulled out his cell phone and everything sort of dissolved away.
Those speakers. I must have seen three or four types of them hanging off of the speaker poles close by my car. Speakers are speakers and in the Midwest, nothing is replaced with new if an old one will do the job. For some reason the speakers held my attention more than anything else about the theater or the experience that evening. I simply must go back and take one from that theater for preservation and posterity. I could search the internet for pictures of those kinds of speakers but it wouldn’t be the same. These are special and there can only be so many left in this country.
After the films ended, I didn't hurry to the exit but waited and watched as the other cars left. For both screens on a Wednesday night there were only about 10 or 12 cars - hardly enough to fall into a profit zone for the theater. I can remember when this same drive-in was packed and it took 20 minutes just to wait in line to exit the place. Back then, that was a great time to socialize and try to find a car load of girls to follow for the rest of the evening. But for tonight, if the other people bought stuff at the snack bar like I did, the theater made their money the old fashioned way - through the sales of over priced, chemically enhanced, nitrate laden "refreshments".
I have many questions now. Questions about drive-in movie theaters and their state – past, present, and future. So many questions that I think I’ll film a documentary about it all. If I could only find the right face to put on this American history… and have him turn his cell phone off while we’re filming.
These ads were the same ones that used to run on the screens back in the late 1960’s and ‘70’s. Used nowadays, I’m sure, in an attempt by the proprietor to try and preserve the feeling of drive-in days gone by. Animated drink cups, hot dogs and ice cream treats danced their way around the screen with a small animated clock that would remind the audience of the few minutes before the show was to begin. Letting us all know that there was still time to go to the snack bar and stock up! As the clock wound down to show time and the movie previews began, I slid down in my seat and thought again of just how long it had been since I was at a drive-in theater.
The opening scene of a movie came on the screen and I knew right away that the ticket taker had told me the wrong directions and I was at the wrong movie. My movie had started a few minutes earlier at the other screen. I unhooked the speaker and drove to the other screen, set everything up again and, albeit a few minutes into the show already, slid down into my seat for a few hours of visual entertainment. The movies "The Other Guys" and "Salt" sucked – both of them – so I didn’t the experience as much as I could have – but the little things that evening are what I found to be very special indeed. The speakers used were still the same ones from “back in the day” and rough, beat-up dented things metal with volume knobs that no longer worked at all. I was to hear the sound at full blast or not at all. At the beginning of the experience a message appeared informing me that, should I choose to do so, the sound was also available on an FM frequency of my car stereo. I dialed the frequency in and sure enough, the audio was there – just as crappy as the sound coming out of the smashed metal box hanging from my dashboard. I opted to turn the car off and suffer with the old school way of hearing a movie at a drive-in.
Knowing that it may be a while before I return to a drive-in, I just had to get some bad drive-in food to accompany this experience so off to the snack bar I went. One corn dog, cheeseburger, hot dog and cotton candy later ($14.50 ?!) I returned to my car and began the feast. I cannot really explain why but bad food and bad films just seem to go together very well. I sat and watched the screen as I noticed an older man coming towards my car. He passed me and went to the speaker stand a stall or two to my left. He had a small tool belt on and it became obvious that he worked for the theater. I began watching him rather than the bad movie because he looked like the personified example of an old drive-in theater. Withered, slightly bent and crooked but still functional. He disassembled the speaker boxes with confident familiarity and looked as though he had been doing so for many years. I began formulating an idea for filming a documentary about the demise of the drive-in movie theaters in America and decided right then to have this gentleman be the focus and central unifying figure in my film. He must have seen it all, this nameless man, as he was many years older than I and clearly the captain of this old drive-in ship. Having him tell the tales of his experiences and offer his opinions of what has transpired over the last 60 years would anchor my film and bring a face to the history. The he pulled out his cell phone and everything sort of dissolved away.
Those speakers. I must have seen three or four types of them hanging off of the speaker poles close by my car. Speakers are speakers and in the Midwest, nothing is replaced with new if an old one will do the job. For some reason the speakers held my attention more than anything else about the theater or the experience that evening. I simply must go back and take one from that theater for preservation and posterity. I could search the internet for pictures of those kinds of speakers but it wouldn’t be the same. These are special and there can only be so many left in this country.
After the films ended, I didn't hurry to the exit but waited and watched as the other cars left. For both screens on a Wednesday night there were only about 10 or 12 cars - hardly enough to fall into a profit zone for the theater. I can remember when this same drive-in was packed and it took 20 minutes just to wait in line to exit the place. Back then, that was a great time to socialize and try to find a car load of girls to follow for the rest of the evening. But for tonight, if the other people bought stuff at the snack bar like I did, the theater made their money the old fashioned way - through the sales of over priced, chemically enhanced, nitrate laden "refreshments".
I have many questions now. Questions about drive-in movie theaters and their state – past, present, and future. So many questions that I think I’ll film a documentary about it all. If I could only find the right face to put on this American history… and have him turn his cell phone off while we’re filming.
Jul 9, 2010
Magic and intrigue... that's what I'm missing.
Another television show that I find rather "fun" showcases the use of some deliciously low-tech in the "ultimate tech" systems at "Warehouse 13", a series on the Syfy channel that's just begun it's second season. Mechanical engineer types and those inclined to rummage through attics and basements for old magic trick paraphernalia will enjoy the brass, wood and leather antique feel of most of the devices used in this show. From the "Farnsworth" video phones the characters carry to the various security systems in place and the myriad of "artifacts" stored within it, a secret government warehouse is full of odd looking devices designed with complicated simplicity in their functions.
While viewing these things with intrigue, a story line lumbers along in the background to bring meaning to the existence of the warehouse and the duties of it's stewards. Imagination rules this show and invites unlimited possibility into the workings of any plot.
The premise is not new - dangerous objects exist that can be used for evil and paranormal mischief. When found, those objects are collected and removed from society so no further damage may be done. Each week, some object becomes the focus of a search by the good guys, or the center of a nefarious plot by the bad guys. The protagonists narrowly escape certain death, find said object, securely contain it and save the planet. The attraction is in the odd characteristics of the objects themselves and in the puzzle-solving aspects of their ultimate acquisition. In "Warehouse 13", it is the US government behind the management of all this material. In a show a couple of decades ago called "Friday the 13th" it seemed that that responsibility lied with the curator of an old antique shop somewhere back near the northeast coast.
For me, items as simple as a pair of special goggles needed to navigate the "Escher Vault" are so cool looking that I need to find a pair for me to use while riding my Harley. The "Tesla" guns are just what you would imagine a pistol sized tazer built in London in the 1850's would look like. So many things - switches to flip, buckles to buckle, toggle switches, push button triggers and primitive radio control devices - all with wood, rope, silver, leather, brass and ingenuity. I'd love to spend a week or so in the props department of this show talking with the art department and set designers!
Sure, I could keep stuff in a box with a lid.. or I could store that same stuff in an intricately designed metal and wooden masterpiece of a container with secret locking trickery built right in so only I knew the answer to getting it open.. that would be so much cooler.
While viewing these things with intrigue, a story line lumbers along in the background to bring meaning to the existence of the warehouse and the duties of it's stewards. Imagination rules this show and invites unlimited possibility into the workings of any plot.
The premise is not new - dangerous objects exist that can be used for evil and paranormal mischief. When found, those objects are collected and removed from society so no further damage may be done. Each week, some object becomes the focus of a search by the good guys, or the center of a nefarious plot by the bad guys. The protagonists narrowly escape certain death, find said object, securely contain it and save the planet. The attraction is in the odd characteristics of the objects themselves and in the puzzle-solving aspects of their ultimate acquisition. In "Warehouse 13", it is the US government behind the management of all this material. In a show a couple of decades ago called "Friday the 13th" it seemed that that responsibility lied with the curator of an old antique shop somewhere back near the northeast coast.
For me, items as simple as a pair of special goggles needed to navigate the "Escher Vault" are so cool looking that I need to find a pair for me to use while riding my Harley. The "Tesla" guns are just what you would imagine a pistol sized tazer built in London in the 1850's would look like. So many things - switches to flip, buckles to buckle, toggle switches, push button triggers and primitive radio control devices - all with wood, rope, silver, leather, brass and ingenuity. I'd love to spend a week or so in the props department of this show talking with the art department and set designers!
Sure, I could keep stuff in a box with a lid.. or I could store that same stuff in an intricately designed metal and wooden masterpiece of a container with secret locking trickery built right in so only I knew the answer to getting it open.. that would be so much cooler.
Jun 28, 2010
Act III
The "third act" of my life is coming fast and screaming around the corner at me...
You can't go home again.
I've only been back in Kansas for about 5 weeks now and already I feel the desire to leave... to go somewhere else to continue my "adventure" of life. Why I cannot seem to be satisfied with any aspect of living here is a mystery to me... but yet, it is real.
Living the past eleven years in places other than Kansas has conditioned my thought process to find time spent in Kansas as temporary. Except now that I have no resources, I cannot see any light at the end of this tunnel.
Everything about being "home" again feels wrong. No, I do not want to mow grass, fix old automobiles or run errands. No, I do not want to be the gypsy I must be to travel to where my kids are and sleep on their couches, or crash at a friend's house for a night or two while I try to spend all the time I can with one or more of my children. It just feels wrong. It feels so temporary, so disconnected, so sad.
My kids all have their lives; my friends are just that... casual friends. Any time I do get to spend with my children or my friends feels "forced" or obligatory in some odd way. I am, for the first time in a very long time, without a female companion. Maybe that's what I'm missing. Maybe for all of the talk about the benefits of being "single" for a change, and the fact that I have been with a woman for the past 27 years, maybe I am lonely. Maybe I do need the warmth of a woman's heart to fill this void I'm feeling. I suppose time will tell. The only woman I care about, whom I adore, the only girl for me… doesn’t have the room or the time in her life for me right now. It’s not her fault – she has two high school age children who take up all of her time and attention – she’s just trying her best to be a good mom. I can’t expect her to make any changes just because I’m here now and would love to spend time with her.
I'm too old to "run away". I'm too old to "start over". I'm 50. I'm unemployed. My future does not look very bright.
I'd join the circus but I ain’t no clown.
The odds of finding stimulating, challenging, meaningful work at this age are as thin as they can possibly be. Ordinarily I am usually someone who can focus on positive thinking and march right into adversity with confidence and emerge triumphant for having done so.
As I look back though, I realize that I've been able to do so (the confidence thing) largely due to the fact that I had the love and companionship of a woman by my side during those times. Actually, during all of my "times". Damn, does this mean I need to find love again to feel "normal"? And isn't that an extremely selfish reason to find love again? Love, for me, is about giving, caring and working to bring pleasure to my partner's day-to-day world. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had any other motive in a relationship.
Of course, not everything is black and white or simple in any relationship. Motives can change, and then change back many times during the course of a relationship. Hell, they can change many times during the course of a single day...
Something's got to give. If I am to be "re-born" over the next few months, as a friend who is into astrology says I am, then I must, as a part of that re-birth, be patient. I must direct my energy towards a few core fundamentals - health, mental readiness, spiritual growth, etc.
But I am restless. I have always been restless. If things around me do not change, then I change the things around me. I move on. I have always gotten my kicks from something new... new surroundings, new work, new people, new toys.
Which brings me to probably the most fundamental truth about myself - I have led my life by avoiding what I do not want, rather than going after what I do want. It is often said that one must "go for your dreams", or "have goals and try your best to achieve them", etc. but I've done the flip side of that. I don't remember having any "goals" or "dreams". I've never felt comfortable even thinking about "what I want". That scares me. I don't know what I want. But I do know what I do NOT want.
I do not want to work the same job for 30 or 40 years. I do not want to live in the same small town for those 30 or 40 years. I do not want routines. I do not want repetition of un-exciting, un-stimulating activity. I do not want to reach the end of my life full of regrets.
Somehow, even though none of us "wants" regrets at the end of our lives, we all will have them, regardless of the choices we've made during our days of living and choosing. Well, all this would be fine if I didn't have to go on living... but I do, so - where to go from here? How do I pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again THIS time? I have to. It's that simple. So, I don't know how and I don't know when, but change WILL happen. Again.
Ooh, a mystery! Something new... this might get interesting. That's how I'll start - I'll convince myself of the "adventure" of figuring out how to carry on and move into the next phase of my life. Wish me luck! Or don't. How bad can a Tuesday get?
Boy, you ain't seen nothin’ yet.
You can't go home again.
I've only been back in Kansas for about 5 weeks now and already I feel the desire to leave... to go somewhere else to continue my "adventure" of life. Why I cannot seem to be satisfied with any aspect of living here is a mystery to me... but yet, it is real.
Living the past eleven years in places other than Kansas has conditioned my thought process to find time spent in Kansas as temporary. Except now that I have no resources, I cannot see any light at the end of this tunnel.
Everything about being "home" again feels wrong. No, I do not want to mow grass, fix old automobiles or run errands. No, I do not want to be the gypsy I must be to travel to where my kids are and sleep on their couches, or crash at a friend's house for a night or two while I try to spend all the time I can with one or more of my children. It just feels wrong. It feels so temporary, so disconnected, so sad.
My kids all have their lives; my friends are just that... casual friends. Any time I do get to spend with my children or my friends feels "forced" or obligatory in some odd way. I am, for the first time in a very long time, without a female companion. Maybe that's what I'm missing. Maybe for all of the talk about the benefits of being "single" for a change, and the fact that I have been with a woman for the past 27 years, maybe I am lonely. Maybe I do need the warmth of a woman's heart to fill this void I'm feeling. I suppose time will tell. The only woman I care about, whom I adore, the only girl for me… doesn’t have the room or the time in her life for me right now. It’s not her fault – she has two high school age children who take up all of her time and attention – she’s just trying her best to be a good mom. I can’t expect her to make any changes just because I’m here now and would love to spend time with her.
I'm too old to "run away". I'm too old to "start over". I'm 50. I'm unemployed. My future does not look very bright.
I'd join the circus but I ain’t no clown.
The odds of finding stimulating, challenging, meaningful work at this age are as thin as they can possibly be. Ordinarily I am usually someone who can focus on positive thinking and march right into adversity with confidence and emerge triumphant for having done so.
As I look back though, I realize that I've been able to do so (the confidence thing) largely due to the fact that I had the love and companionship of a woman by my side during those times. Actually, during all of my "times". Damn, does this mean I need to find love again to feel "normal"? And isn't that an extremely selfish reason to find love again? Love, for me, is about giving, caring and working to bring pleasure to my partner's day-to-day world. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had any other motive in a relationship.
Of course, not everything is black and white or simple in any relationship. Motives can change, and then change back many times during the course of a relationship. Hell, they can change many times during the course of a single day...
Something's got to give. If I am to be "re-born" over the next few months, as a friend who is into astrology says I am, then I must, as a part of that re-birth, be patient. I must direct my energy towards a few core fundamentals - health, mental readiness, spiritual growth, etc.
But I am restless. I have always been restless. If things around me do not change, then I change the things around me. I move on. I have always gotten my kicks from something new... new surroundings, new work, new people, new toys.
Which brings me to probably the most fundamental truth about myself - I have led my life by avoiding what I do not want, rather than going after what I do want. It is often said that one must "go for your dreams", or "have goals and try your best to achieve them", etc. but I've done the flip side of that. I don't remember having any "goals" or "dreams". I've never felt comfortable even thinking about "what I want". That scares me. I don't know what I want. But I do know what I do NOT want.
I do not want to work the same job for 30 or 40 years. I do not want to live in the same small town for those 30 or 40 years. I do not want routines. I do not want repetition of un-exciting, un-stimulating activity. I do not want to reach the end of my life full of regrets.
Somehow, even though none of us "wants" regrets at the end of our lives, we all will have them, regardless of the choices we've made during our days of living and choosing. Well, all this would be fine if I didn't have to go on living... but I do, so - where to go from here? How do I pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again THIS time? I have to. It's that simple. So, I don't know how and I don't know when, but change WILL happen. Again.
Ooh, a mystery! Something new... this might get interesting. That's how I'll start - I'll convince myself of the "adventure" of figuring out how to carry on and move into the next phase of my life. Wish me luck! Or don't. How bad can a Tuesday get?
Boy, you ain't seen nothin’ yet.
Apr 26, 2010
"Treme" television triumphs tonight.
Superb piece of television from HBO. The best TV I've seen since Weeds sprouted up. Specifically, the closing 4 minutes and 48 seconds of tonight's episode of "Treme".
If you're unfamiliar with the name, Treme is the nickname of an area within the city of New Orleans noted as an important culturally historic neighborhood from which a disproportional amount of great music came. Clean-up from Katrina (physical, political, emotional, and otherwise) is the backdrop for this series looking in on the stories of some of the people doing the cleaning.
Tonight's episode is entitled "Right Place. Wrong Time.". Dr. John makes a cameo appearance. Midway through the story, the body of a missing elderly relative of one of the characters is found in the rubble, and the next afternoon, a fitting Creole Indian ceremony takes place - not the funeral - just a ceremony outside the residence of the deceased. Just as the uplifting musical ceremony starts really taking off, a "Katrina Tours" bus rolls up, slows, and as passengers click their disposable cameras, the driver asks what the gathering is all about. Obviously dumbfounded by the sudden tourist intrusion, a few of the men tell the driver to just "drive on away from here". The driver pauses, apologizes and drives away. Closing shot is from behind the group on the street looking past them as the bus drives on. Silent.
Considering what we, the audience, have learned about the characters and their struggles, this scene is very powerful and compelling. We get to see what those tourists couldn't. We get to see the heart and soul.
So far, this series has had it's ups and downs story wise, but this episode really clicked as a cohesive show and not just some varying storyline depictions from somewhat disassociated characters. John Goodman, Steve Zahn, and a host of other actors you will recognize. I really didn't think I would enjoy a program about New Orleans and Katrina, but these first few episodes are growing on me, especially after tonight.
If you're unfamiliar with the name, Treme is the nickname of an area within the city of New Orleans noted as an important culturally historic neighborhood from which a disproportional amount of great music came. Clean-up from Katrina (physical, political, emotional, and otherwise) is the backdrop for this series looking in on the stories of some of the people doing the cleaning.
Tonight's episode is entitled "Right Place. Wrong Time.". Dr. John makes a cameo appearance. Midway through the story, the body of a missing elderly relative of one of the characters is found in the rubble, and the next afternoon, a fitting Creole Indian ceremony takes place - not the funeral - just a ceremony outside the residence of the deceased. Just as the uplifting musical ceremony starts really taking off, a "Katrina Tours" bus rolls up, slows, and as passengers click their disposable cameras, the driver asks what the gathering is all about. Obviously dumbfounded by the sudden tourist intrusion, a few of the men tell the driver to just "drive on away from here". The driver pauses, apologizes and drives away. Closing shot is from behind the group on the street looking past them as the bus drives on. Silent.
Considering what we, the audience, have learned about the characters and their struggles, this scene is very powerful and compelling. We get to see what those tourists couldn't. We get to see the heart and soul.
So far, this series has had it's ups and downs story wise, but this episode really clicked as a cohesive show and not just some varying storyline depictions from somewhat disassociated characters. John Goodman, Steve Zahn, and a host of other actors you will recognize. I really didn't think I would enjoy a program about New Orleans and Katrina, but these first few episodes are growing on me, especially after tonight.
Apr 21, 2010
It's getting very real, very quickly.
I love Hawaii. I'll be back to visit someday. It's still the most beautiful place I've ever seen on Earth.
Loaded up majority of my "stuff" Monday onto a truck bound for a ship bound for California bound for another truck bound for Kansas...
Loaded my bike onto a skid bound for a ship bound for San Diego, California today (Tuesday). Strapped her down tight and hope for the best.
Going to pick up more Hawaii Ultimate discs from Mondo tomorrow. I'll mail a few straggler packages of left-overs in the next week or two and then I'll be bound for my bike in San Diego.. to ride my "Hekili Holo" to Kansas.
Adventures await.. very real. Fairly quick.
My only regret is that I wish I could make this road trip/journey with my son and/or my other children. After all, a shared journey is much richer than one traveled alone.
Lets see.. a stop in Vegas to triple my money, then through some canyons in Utah... then.. ?!
Loaded up majority of my "stuff" Monday onto a truck bound for a ship bound for California bound for another truck bound for Kansas...
Loaded my bike onto a skid bound for a ship bound for San Diego, California today (Tuesday). Strapped her down tight and hope for the best.
Going to pick up more Hawaii Ultimate discs from Mondo tomorrow. I'll mail a few straggler packages of left-overs in the next week or two and then I'll be bound for my bike in San Diego.. to ride my "Hekili Holo" to Kansas.
Adventures await.. very real. Fairly quick.
My only regret is that I wish I could make this road trip/journey with my son and/or my other children. After all, a shared journey is much richer than one traveled alone.
Lets see.. a stop in Vegas to triple my money, then through some canyons in Utah... then.. ?!
Apr 6, 2010
..where my love lies waiting silently for me.
Once there was a way
to get back homeward.
Once there was a way
to get back home.
to get back homeward.
Once there was a way
to get back home.
Mar 28, 2010
Thinking...
Welcome to one small aspect of my brain ...
I shared this in an earlier post "Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes."
Most of the time I can function and maintain focus with things I'm concentrating on. Other times, my mind moves at a rate of speed that leaves me in the dust. I've noticed that many times my mind has accelerated to a point where all I can do is go along for the ride.
Imagery takes a prominent role when these mind-racing sessions take place. It seems as though my mind cycles through random, disassociated images at the rate of about 2 or three images per second. That's right 2 or 3 per second. There is no order, no reason for what image appears. It might be a cute little kitten and then immediately into an algebra equation written on a chalkboard followed by something from my early childhood like riding a mini-bike then right into a scene from the signing of the declaration of independence, or some other sequence of random chaos and images. Crazy stuff that cannot be explained. Seriously, "bam - flip - bam - pow - click - bam and on and on until I either fall back asleep (if it takes place when I've awaken from sleep), which is not at all easy with that going on in my head, or until something jars my thinking into concentration on something specific - but even then the barrage of imagery continues while I try to focus my thoughts on the situation at hand.
I've never had "therapy" or been in a situation to express this to anyone of any capacity to shed light on it, but it's not something that interferes with my ability to function.. it's just that sometimes it is annoying as hell.
Maybe it stems from the way my mind works, and has always worked, since as long as I can remember. I've always felt, and accepted that, when my mind is presented something that needs a solution - anywhere from a big problem to a small subtle process, the wheels kick in and options are examined, possible solutions are played out in thought and the best way to approach the issue becomes clear to me in a matter of seconds. Not minutes. Seconds. I have always been able to get to "the bottom line" about things almost instantaneously. That has made for an interesting time when debates or arguments arise. I am quick to make my case for the solution that I think is best. I remain open and eager to listen to alternative answers and solutions, and the reasoning for those alternatives, but if they do not make perfect sense as the best way to go about solving the problem, then I don't change my mind. I have been known to change my mind and go about some different plan, but that is usually because new information comes out that affects the problem. Had my mind been aware of that "new" information at the onset, I am confident that I would have arrived at the "new" solution anyway.
I realize that this can be labeled as arrogance and that by this short explanation it may seem as though I have a superiority complex, but when I'm right, I'm right and throughout my history in different facets of life - home, school, work, etc. - my solutions, after consideration by others, are the ones adopted by everyone involved. It has been very rare that some other answer or proposed action has been implemented.
I guess I seem arrogant about this because I have been positively reinforced by the world around me time and again. Honestly, I am not egotistical about this, I am happy to have problems solved. That's all.
The same sort of rapid-fire thought process (without the disjointed image sequencing) takes place even when I'm doing things that ordinarily should require no thought at all. Things as simple as adjusting the volume of a video I'm watching. In a matter of nano-seconds (it seems to me), my mind analyzes the most efficient method for making any adjustments to the equipment involved.
I may have a volume control at the source (a media player on my computer), another control at the computer output and yet another at the speakers. Taking into consideration the desire for optimal sound quality and limited distortion throughout the signal path, I think of the pros and cons of different adjustments at different places along the signal path. I make split-second calculations in my mind and then make other calculations based upon the first calculations, etc. - Will adjusting the volume here affect the quality of the resulting sound here at this point? And, if so, would some other adjustment at somewhere else along the path be a better choice to insure the maintenance of the best sound quality possible? Etcetera, etcetera.
This all takes place in the time it takes for me to raise my hand to take some action related to adjusting the damn volume!
I tell you I scare myself sometimes with what takes place inside my brain. Don't even get me started on what it's like when I'm driving! Years of taking and teaching defensive driving courses have made every second of every minute I drive any vehicle a constant exercise in composing exit strategies and what-if scenarios. All taking place simultaneously while I carry on conversations with passengers or sing along with the radio...
Am I normal? Wait.. don't answer that. Because I really don't care about your answer to that question or what you think of me! Sorry, but I believe in the reality of being interested in, and concerned with, only that which I can control and not bothering myself, or my brain, with things I have no control over - like what other people think of me. Unless, of course, they can convince me of a need to change something about myself.. and can do that convincing in the most efficient way possible...
I guess I am interested in finding out if other people have a similar experience with their minds. Do they think in "fast forward" like me?
I may never know.
Hmm that gets me to thinking...
Next up: Procrastination - why am I so good at it?
I shared this in an earlier post "Jazz for a brain, I'm cursed with free-form, improvisational, frenetic thought processes."
Most of the time I can function and maintain focus with things I'm concentrating on. Other times, my mind moves at a rate of speed that leaves me in the dust. I've noticed that many times my mind has accelerated to a point where all I can do is go along for the ride.
Imagery takes a prominent role when these mind-racing sessions take place. It seems as though my mind cycles through random, disassociated images at the rate of about 2 or three images per second. That's right 2 or 3 per second. There is no order, no reason for what image appears. It might be a cute little kitten and then immediately into an algebra equation written on a chalkboard followed by something from my early childhood like riding a mini-bike then right into a scene from the signing of the declaration of independence, or some other sequence of random chaos and images. Crazy stuff that cannot be explained. Seriously, "bam - flip - bam - pow - click - bam and on and on until I either fall back asleep (if it takes place when I've awaken from sleep), which is not at all easy with that going on in my head, or until something jars my thinking into concentration on something specific - but even then the barrage of imagery continues while I try to focus my thoughts on the situation at hand.
I've never had "therapy" or been in a situation to express this to anyone of any capacity to shed light on it, but it's not something that interferes with my ability to function.. it's just that sometimes it is annoying as hell.
Maybe it stems from the way my mind works, and has always worked, since as long as I can remember. I've always felt, and accepted that, when my mind is presented something that needs a solution - anywhere from a big problem to a small subtle process, the wheels kick in and options are examined, possible solutions are played out in thought and the best way to approach the issue becomes clear to me in a matter of seconds. Not minutes. Seconds. I have always been able to get to "the bottom line" about things almost instantaneously. That has made for an interesting time when debates or arguments arise. I am quick to make my case for the solution that I think is best. I remain open and eager to listen to alternative answers and solutions, and the reasoning for those alternatives, but if they do not make perfect sense as the best way to go about solving the problem, then I don't change my mind. I have been known to change my mind and go about some different plan, but that is usually because new information comes out that affects the problem. Had my mind been aware of that "new" information at the onset, I am confident that I would have arrived at the "new" solution anyway.
I realize that this can be labeled as arrogance and that by this short explanation it may seem as though I have a superiority complex, but when I'm right, I'm right and throughout my history in different facets of life - home, school, work, etc. - my solutions, after consideration by others, are the ones adopted by everyone involved. It has been very rare that some other answer or proposed action has been implemented.
I guess I seem arrogant about this because I have been positively reinforced by the world around me time and again. Honestly, I am not egotistical about this, I am happy to have problems solved. That's all.
The same sort of rapid-fire thought process (without the disjointed image sequencing) takes place even when I'm doing things that ordinarily should require no thought at all. Things as simple as adjusting the volume of a video I'm watching. In a matter of nano-seconds (it seems to me), my mind analyzes the most efficient method for making any adjustments to the equipment involved.
I may have a volume control at the source (a media player on my computer), another control at the computer output and yet another at the speakers. Taking into consideration the desire for optimal sound quality and limited distortion throughout the signal path, I think of the pros and cons of different adjustments at different places along the signal path. I make split-second calculations in my mind and then make other calculations based upon the first calculations, etc. - Will adjusting the volume here affect the quality of the resulting sound here at this point? And, if so, would some other adjustment at somewhere else along the path be a better choice to insure the maintenance of the best sound quality possible? Etcetera, etcetera.
This all takes place in the time it takes for me to raise my hand to take some action related to adjusting the damn volume!
I tell you I scare myself sometimes with what takes place inside my brain. Don't even get me started on what it's like when I'm driving! Years of taking and teaching defensive driving courses have made every second of every minute I drive any vehicle a constant exercise in composing exit strategies and what-if scenarios. All taking place simultaneously while I carry on conversations with passengers or sing along with the radio...
Am I normal? Wait.. don't answer that. Because I really don't care about your answer to that question or what you think of me! Sorry, but I believe in the reality of being interested in, and concerned with, only that which I can control and not bothering myself, or my brain, with things I have no control over - like what other people think of me. Unless, of course, they can convince me of a need to change something about myself.. and can do that convincing in the most efficient way possible...
I guess I am interested in finding out if other people have a similar experience with their minds. Do they think in "fast forward" like me?
I may never know.
Hmm that gets me to thinking...
Next up: Procrastination - why am I so good at it?
Mar 7, 2010
Rhythms of my ancestry
In anticipation of my father's birthday - March 17, I've been listening to some Irish music recently. My roots are as Celtic as can be.. most likely Scandinavian before that. I feel deep down that I must come from those bad ass Norsemen who are now mistakenly referred to as Vikings. Yeah, they raided and pillaged and plundered all over Europe from Greenland all the way to Baghdad and back.. but it is what it is. Um, sorry?
One of the bands I've re-discovered is "Kila" (Pr. "Key-Lah") - they're fantastically Irish, but "new" somehow.
I was going to put a link to a YouTube video or two in here.. but the videos on YouTube do not do the band justice. They're not bad, but not as good as the music itself. I am partial to their instrumental tunes rather than the ones with vocals, but I'm sure those will "grow on me" in time.
Kila is just one of the bands I've been seeking out as of late.
Also worth investigating are:
Shooglenifty, Seven Nations, Wolfstone, Rock Salt & Nails, and Bongshang to name a few.
Maybe I'll share more if the mood strikes me...
Meanwhile, "May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, etc." ... Éirinn go brách my friends.
Or, Scotland Forever.. whichever suites your tastes. Personally, I lean towards Scotland.
Thomas Samuel Owens - March 17, 1933 - April 29,2005
One of the bands I've re-discovered is "Kila" (Pr. "Key-Lah") - they're fantastically Irish, but "new" somehow.
I was going to put a link to a YouTube video or two in here.. but the videos on YouTube do not do the band justice. They're not bad, but not as good as the music itself. I am partial to their instrumental tunes rather than the ones with vocals, but I'm sure those will "grow on me" in time.
Kila is just one of the bands I've been seeking out as of late.
Also worth investigating are:
Shooglenifty, Seven Nations, Wolfstone, Rock Salt & Nails, and Bongshang to name a few.
Maybe I'll share more if the mood strikes me...
Meanwhile, "May the road rise up to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, etc." ... Éirinn go brách my friends.
Or, Scotland Forever.. whichever suites your tastes. Personally, I lean towards Scotland.
Thomas Samuel Owens - March 17, 1933 - April 29,2005
Feb 26, 2010
Here . . .
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of day, the world moving on its way
Without her
You sitting there staring into the distance
Like you’re putting up some kind of resistance
But you better seek the dawn
It’s like this river that you’re on
Here where the sorrows flow, with all you will never know
About her
Here, you’re here
The city waking up off in the distance
They’re all working on some other existence
But you can’t quite seem to care, like you know they’re not going anywhere
Here were the sorrows flow
Here where the questions grow, with all you will never know
About her
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of dawn, the world moving on
Without her
- Jackson Browne
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of day, the world moving on its way
Without her
You sitting there staring into the distance
Like you’re putting up some kind of resistance
But you better seek the dawn
It’s like this river that you’re on
Here where the sorrows flow, with all you will never know
About her
Here, you’re here
The city waking up off in the distance
They’re all working on some other existence
But you can’t quite seem to care, like you know they’re not going anywhere
Here were the sorrows flow
Here where the questions grow, with all you will never know
About her
You wait for the tears to fall, but they won’t
You think you should know what to say, but you don’t
Here at the break of dawn, the world moving on
Without her
- Jackson Browne
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 23, 2010
Dec. 13, 2004 to Feb. 23, 2010
Fuck. How many days is that? Somewhere around 1896?
I was hit by a cab while walking across a street in Waikiki on Dec 13th, 2004.
I just heard from my "lawyer" this morning (Feb 23, 2010) that we can settle the case for x amount. Well, that "x" amount equals less than a few dollars per day for the past 1896 days.. and NOTHING for having to live with a bad knee and a strained neck for the rest of my life.
American justice is a pile of crap.
Think about it - two people walk across a marked crosswalk and are hit by a cab. One person does NOT have injuries that will stay with her for the rest of her life and her case settles for the maximum amount possible with the type of insurance policy carried by the cab driver. The other person - who HAS injuries for the rest of his life - will get less than half of that amount for his case - SAME "LAWYER", SAME CAB DRIVER, SAME ACCIDENT, SAME NIGHT, SAME INSURANCE COMPANY.
Same BULLSHIT is what I say.
Jesus this sucks.
I was hit by a cab while walking across a street in Waikiki on Dec 13th, 2004.
I just heard from my "lawyer" this morning (Feb 23, 2010) that we can settle the case for x amount. Well, that "x" amount equals less than a few dollars per day for the past 1896 days.. and NOTHING for having to live with a bad knee and a strained neck for the rest of my life.
American justice is a pile of crap.
Think about it - two people walk across a marked crosswalk and are hit by a cab. One person does NOT have injuries that will stay with her for the rest of her life and her case settles for the maximum amount possible with the type of insurance policy carried by the cab driver. The other person - who HAS injuries for the rest of his life - will get less than half of that amount for his case - SAME "LAWYER", SAME CAB DRIVER, SAME ACCIDENT, SAME NIGHT, SAME INSURANCE COMPANY.
Same BULLSHIT is what I say.
Jesus this sucks.
Feb 20, 2010
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