I haven’t watched much television on Netflix or elsewhere for several years now. I know I’m missing out on some good stuff and perhaps I’ll find a way to build a couple of hours a day in front of the TV screen. Via Althouse comes information on a Netflix series starring one of my favorites, Ricky Gervais:
The show centers around Tony (Gervais), a middle-aged journalist whose “perfect life” has been reduced to dust since his wife died of cancer. After contemplating taking his own life, he decides instead to live long enough to punish the world by saying and doing whatever he likes from now on. He thinks it’s like a Super Power, but eventually finds out life is more complicated, when everyone around him tries to save the nice guy they used to know.
This description from Gervais really resonated with me:
“At the end of the day, it’s all those little mundane interactions that actually save your life — they’re the variety of life, they stop you from feeling too sorry for yourself. He’s got to take the dog for a walk, he’s got to go to work to make money to get drunk, and after all that, time heals,” Gervais explained to Variety in an interview.
Yeah, that’s what I was getting at (or trying to) in my post on boredom the other day. I’m going through some stuff these past couple of days but my routines do seem to help relieve the stress and mental turmoil. Like today’s walk:
The squiggly lines up top are my morning walk in Alta Vista with Buddy. The long straight line in the middle is the walk with Lucky to the vet for shots. We took a trike back. And finally, I did my Baloy Beach hike. Still to come, this afternoon’s Hash.
I know this is just a passage to a better place.
Crazy I’m crazy for feeling so lonely I’m crazy Crazy for feeling so blue I knew You’d love me as long as you wanted And then some day You’d leave me for somebody new Worry Why do I let myself worry? Wondering What in the world did I do… Oh, crazy For thinking that my love could hold you… I’m crazy for trying And crazy for crying And I’m crazy for loving you
Well, I’m still alive so it’s time to pay the piper. Just got word from my accountant that I’m indebted to Uncle Sam again this year. However, since I only worked half the year my tax bill has decreased from over $8000. to only $12. this year. Now that is what I consider good news!
I’m afraid hot season is now upon us. Makes it especially hard to maintain my motivation to get out there and walk. I’m going to wait until later this afternoon to get some steps in, maybe it won’t be so damn unbearable. Almost has me wishing I could be complaining about rainy season instead.
There are other changes on the horizon but I’m going to let them play out before I report about it. Just gotta stay strong in the meantime.
“You can appreciate Schubert if you train yourself. I was the same way when I first listened to him—it bored me silly. It’s only natural for someone your age. In time you’ll appreciate it. People soon get tired of things that aren’t boring, but not of what is boring. Go figure. For me, I might have the leisure to be bored, but not to grow tired of something. Most people can’t distinguish between the two.”
— Haruki Murakami
If you are visiting LTG on a regular basis then chances are you are indeed bored out of your mind. And if you are not bored now you likely will be after reading this post. I’m only half-kidding when I say that people like my blog because it makes them feel better about their own lives.
Anyway, Althouse was blogging about boredom today. She included a link to a long and boring Wikipedia article on boredom. There is also this quiz you can take to discover how easily you get bored. My result was that I have an average propensity to become bored. So nothing to get excited about I suppose.
I’ve been retired now going on one year. Do I find my life boring? Surprisingly, and notwithstanding the drivel I post here, for the most part no, I do not. I have my daily routines and rituals and they pass the time, however comfortably and well*. I wake each morning at 0600, spend some time on the internets, walk the dogs, have breakfast, walk myself, take a nap, try to blog here, take another walk, shower, drink beer/throw darts, then sleep around 10 p.m. Every fucking day of my life. Well, sometimes I’ll travel and do the above in a new location. And I am plotting some international travel in the coming months.
Is that enough? For now it has to be. Could it be better? Hell yes! For example, I’d love to have someone to love and share my life with. But I’m not really able to open myself up to the pain and disappointment that potentially comes with the love thing just yet. As I often remind myself, there are worse things than being alone
This pretty much captures how I feel.
Had a brief and drunken text chat with the last woman I loved yesterday. She told me she has chosen to be happy in life and that “happiness is within”. Well, if that works for her I’m glad. But it smells like bullshit to me. Don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy. I am content with this life I have chosen. I have all I need to live comfortably and worry-free. Living here is a daily reminder that my first world problems truly are meaningless.
I’m not dead inside quite yet. And I hope to keep it that way!
I can’t control what the people around me do or how they choose to live their life. What I can control is who I let into MY life. Unfortunately, I’ve demonstrated an amazing inability to judge the true nature of another person’s character. So I’m often disappointed and frequently taken advantage of by so-called friends. I know who I am and what is in my heart and I’ll continue to live my life in a manner that in some small way might make a difference. I’ll do unto others not as they’ve done unto me. I’m bound to have some good Karma coming my way eventually.
Man oh man, talk about going off on a tangent. Bored yet?
Let’s get back on track. Facebook reminded me that two years ago I was meeting the U.S. Ambassador to Korea.
And giving the clenched fist salute My Way!
I enjoyed my working life and the intellectual stimulation it provided. Now I have 8+ more hours to fill each day and for the most part I spend them alone. Or with other drunk expats. But although I’m not often mentally challenged, I think I’m staying engaged on some level. The hours I spend hiking are also hours I spend thinking. Or listening to music. Sometimes both at the same time! Nothing boring about that.
Today’s hike. That bow-tie looking thing is where I was searching for that extra kilometer to add to my upcoming Hash trail. I’ve got a small addition on the back now. Perhaps I can add a bit more towards the front. I’ve still got a month to work it out.And in the meantime I’ll still make time to stop and smell the flowers.
I’m a lucky bastard with too much time on his hands.
Sitting on this barstool talking like a damn fool Got the twelve o’clock news blues And I’ve given up hope for the afternoon soaps And a bottle of cold brew Is it any wonder I’m not crazy? Is it any wonder I’m sane at all Well I’m so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it I go out cruisin’ but I’ve no place to go and all night to get there Is it any wonder I’m not a criminal? Is it any wonder I’m not in jail? Is it any wonder I’ve got
Too much time on my hands? It’s ticking away with my sanity I’ve got too much time on my hands It’s hard to believe such a calamity I’ve got too much time on my hands And it’s ticking away, ticking away from me Too much time on my hands (It’s t-t-t-t-ticking away) Too much time on my hands (And I don’t know what to do with myself) Too much time on my hands
*when I wrote “however comfortably and well” it felt like something I had read somewhere, maybe in a Hemingway short story. I googled it and came up with nothing. If it’s plagiarism it’s unintentional…
I know it is rather cliche to characterize the teenage years as “rebellious”, but when the shoe fits…(ahem). I’m not exactly sure just what triggered me, but it seemed to coincide with my entry into high school.
The scene of some of my “high” crimes and misdemeanors.
As I mentioned in the previous chapter, I was from a working class family in an affluent upper middle class community. This “sin” was exacerbated in my high school which was notorious for its cliques and assignment of status among the students based on social standing. Where did I fit in? Basically nowhere, as I didn’t really meet the demographics of any group (jocks, muscle car racers, scholars, etc). Well, except maybe the stoners, but more on that later. So I was a loner for the most part, although outside of school I would hang with my neighborhood crew.
Most of the kids had fancy new cars courtesy of mommy and daddy. Me? I drove a 1963 Ford pickup during most of those glory days. I even named my vehicle–Redford. Get it? I did have a smokin’ hot girlfriend though!
Ah, Karen Michelle. My first love. Met her in journalism class as a freshman and we had a passionate relationship until she moved away to San Diego just before senior year. Took Karen’s cherry in the back seat of my mom’s 1969 Plymouth Fury when I took her to watch the submarine races at Huntington Beach. I actually continued to see her periodically after she moved, making the two hour drive down I-5 for the weekend when I could get off work and/or had the gas money.
When I wasn’t down south I had a local girlfriend named Gail Weed. It was the best of both worlds, right up until Karen and Gail wound up in the same place at the same time. In the end I lost them both, only then realizing that I was in love with Gail. Sound familiar? Bless her heart, Gail responded to my profession of undying (and exclusive) love going forward with a hearty “fuck off”. That would be the first in a long line of heartbreaks to come over the course of many lifetimes.
At the prom with Karen held aboard the Queen Mary in Long Beach. Thirty years later I saw Karen again at our high school reunion. Took her back to the Queen Mary for dinner and reminiscing. And then we rekindled the old passion for one night. We are still friends on Facebook which is nice.
My rebellion manifested itself in various ways. For one thing, I completely rejected the Protestant faith in which I had been raised. At some point I just became aware of the utter hypocrisy of the Christian church. And once I started questioning the values of the church I found I couldn’t intellectually accept the basic tenets of Christianity. I still do not believe Mary was a virgin or that Christ rose from the grave three days after being crucified. And so ended my budding career as a steel guitarist in my church’s band. Ah well.
I did run cross country my freshman year. I was actually pretty good for a youngster, running the two mile course in under 12 minutes (I think my best time was 11:40 or so). Whatever promise I held as a distance runner was apparently overshadowed by the fact that my hair touched the top of my ears. Coach Hedges (who may have been a drill sergeant at one time) told me to cut my hair or I wouldn’t be allowed to participate in future meets. So I quit the team. And now 50 years later I’m a Harrier once again. Life’s funny, ain’t it?
Academically, I couldn’t be bothered with bullshit like homework or in some cases, attending class on a regular basis. And my grades tended to reflect that.
Well, what can I say? Mere grades don’t reflect the value of a man, right?
I did have success in my Journalism class. In fact, I rose to become editor-in-chief of our high school paper.
The paper had been called “The Scroll” since forever. My fellow staffers and I thought the name old fashioned and we set about changing it. I suggested “Harvest” (mostly because I was a big Neil Young fan) and the staff agreed. And so it was done. Looking back, it is kind of a stupid name, but what hell, right?
Being a writer with the paper gave me another outlet for feeding my desire to “stick it to the man”. I had my own column on the editorial page called “A Few Words On…” Each issue I’d address some controversial topic of interest to me. One I specifically recall because it almost got our adviser fired when he resisted the school principal’s effort to censor it was called “Our Gestapo”. I basically (and probably unfairly) took the security staff to task for their over bearing nature in enforcing the rules.
And I did political stuff as well. Nixon was always a good foil for a know-it-all teenager like me!
I wasn’t always wrong on the issues though. I had editorialized that a California Proposition on the ballot to decriminalize marijuana should be approved.That created a bit of a shitstorm at the time.
Talk about being ahead of your time! California did make pot legal over 40 years later…
Speaking of marijuana…starting at about fifteen years of age I became a bonafide pothead. I smoked dope whenever and wherever I could. And this being Southern Cal in the 1970’s, it was easier to get stoned than to get drunk. Although I did that on occasion as well. Pot was locally grown and relatively cheap at $10 an ounce. I experimented with other drugs as well, like LSD, but really only liked smoking grass. And truth be told, being high a lot of the time sucked whatever motivation I had to work hard in school right out of me. It’s a wonder I managed to graduate.
But I did. It necessitated me taking night classes at the local community college to earn the required number of credits to qualify for this Diploma.Who me? My senior picture. In a final act of defiance I boycotted the graduation ceremony. And now, welcome to the real world!
My criminality wasn’t strictly limited to my use of illegal substances. I was a notorious flaunter of traffic laws, mostly speeding related. And once I stole a car to replace a friend’s car I had drunkenly driven into a brick wall. But I was only arrested once:
On or about July 4, 1973, at 18900 Gothard Street, Huntington Beach, County of Orange, [John McCrarey] did willfully, unlawfully and maliciously disturb the peace and quiet of Mrs. Hal Westley Shirey by offensive conduct, and the use of vulgar, profane, and indecent language, in a loud and boisterous manner, in violation of Section 415 of the Penal Code of California.
My crime was yelling “fuck you pigs” after being ticketed for a bullshit offense. If you are curious about the details, I told the story here.
As a result of that episode I had the final falling out with my father whereupon I moved out of the house and on my own at 17. Good thing I had my own career already.
Graveyard shift at a convenience store making two bucks an hour!
I worked there for several months until the night I was robbed. Pretty scary shit that was. And being the rebel that I was I had failed to make my regular drops into the safe (the rule was never more than $30 in the cash drawer). I probably had close to $100 at the time of the holdup. I guess that raised suspicions at corporate, because they told me to come to the office for a polygraph. As if I was involved with robbing myself! I was a punk, but I wasn’t no Jussie Smollett. Anyway, I told them they could stick the polygraph up their ass and quit.
I then embarked on a hitchhiking trip with a buddy across the Pacific Northwest. We had planned to enter Canada, but the Canadian border guards apparently didn’t like our looks. The pretext they used was we didn’t have enough money with us to be granted entrance. Bullshit! “How much do I need? I’ll wire home and get it.” He looked at me and said “son, you’ll never have enough money to get into Canada”. If you are interested in the details of that sad story, I wrote about it here. Anyway, I’ve never been back to Canada since that attempt, but I always swore then when I go, I’m going to do it at that border crossing.
Seriously Canada? What’s wrong with a fine upstanding young man like me?
Anyway, I came back home and found a better job working day shift in a factory. I also suffered my first bout of major depression and spent weeks planning to commit suicide. Even bought the drugs I planned to use to end my life. When the appointed day arrived I changed my mind for some reason. Best decision of a lifetime! I would not have wanted to miss all the lifetimes that followed that one.
And as fate would have it, near the end of my 19th year an event occurred that was destined to change everything. Stay tuned for Chapter 3.
He’s a rebel and he’ll never ever be any good He’s a rebel ’cause he never ever does what he should But just because he doesn’t do what everybody else does That’s no reason why I can’t give him all my love
A commenter on my previous post said something about my walk pace doesn’t add up. I’ve long held the idea that I take 7,000 steps an hour (on flat ground). This is based on the readings from three generations of Fitbit smart watches I’ve worn for the past several years.
I recently downloaded an app to my phone that primarily measures distance traveled. It indicates that I walk right around 5K per hour. My commenter thought I must walk faster than that, as he gets 5K with only 6,000 steps an hour. Hmm. I chalked it up to variances in the way the app and my Fitbit do their calculations. So today I thought I’d try a calibration exercise.
I started with my morning dog walk by syncing the devices (I had to deduct the steps the Fitbit had already recorded as I moved about the house). Anyway, when I returned from Buddy’s exercise my Fitbit said 2.4K in 28 minutes (Buddy poops and pees a lot) and 3100 steps. The fitness app on the phone said 2.1K in 30 minutes (it doesn’t measure steps). So, they aren’t exactly in sync, but not that far off either.
Later this morning I took a 8+ kilometer walk, again on flat ground. My phone app said (yes, it has a woman’s voice updating at each KM) I was averaging a KM every 11.48 minutes. Just slightly better than 5K per hour.
On the day, my Fitbit shows 14K walked in 160 minutes for a total of 18,500 steps. If I’m doing the math right (well, using my calculator phone app) I get this: 115 steps per minute and 6938 steps per hour. It takes me 1320 steps and 11.42 minutes to walk a KM.
So actually both the Fitbit and fitness app are giving me similar measurements. I’m not sure what all this means except I’ve obviously got too much time on my hands!
Sitting on this barstool talking like a damn fool Got the twelve o’clock news blues And I’ve given up hope for the afternoon soaps And a bottle of cold brew Is it any wonder I’m not crazy? Is it any wonder I’m sane at all Well I’m so tired of losing- I got nothing to do and all day to do it I go out cruisin’ but I’ve no place to go and all night to get there Is it any wonder I’m not a criminal? Is it any wonder I’m not in jail? Is it any wonder I’ve got
Too much time on my hands? It’s ticking away with my sanity I’ve got too much time on my hands It’s hard to believe such a calamity I’ve got too much time on my hands And it’s ticking away, ticking away from me
UPDATE: Well, I was also “doing the math” last May as I counted down the days until making the big move to the Philippines. Time flies!
But anyone can write a poem, even me! Especially a bad one. Well, it’s been a long, long time since I put verses on paper but back in the day I was a poem writing fool. I had cause to be reminded of this fact when I opened “the box of memories” I brought back with me from the last visit to the USA.
An old wine box. But after reading some of the crap inside, it might be more apt to call it a whine box.Photographs, cards and letters, and lots of original words on paper–a journal, some short stories, and some bad poetry. All authored by yours truly back in the early 1970’s. Yep, the contents were still dripping with teenage angst even after all these years.
I was somewhat taken aback at how similar some of those emotions I was expressing back then are to ones I still sometimes experience. And the opposite is true as well, I found my self shaking my head at the sad and petulant young man who fancied himself a writer. Geez, and here I am overcoming that shame by sharing some of those words here with you now. Ha! Finally published after all these years!
Okay, I’m not going to edit or rewrite this crap, but some of it will be excerpted so you’ll get the flavor without having to suffer overmuch. Let’s start with a twofer–a sheet of notebook paper dated December 14, 1972 with these two poems:
The Only Way
Perhaps the best way Is your way Maybe the best belief Is not to believe Maybe the only answer Is no answer And maybe the only time Is this time... And yet, Why can't our love Be the only love?
Alone
Alone in my fantasies Alone with my dreams But when I wake with the dawning One sullen fact remains That I am alone in my love for you--- The sun doesn't shine, it rains.
Well, I warned you. Let’s try this:
I wrote this for my creative writing class in my junior year if I recall correctly. My teacher was a bit of a prick (he called a sonnet I had worked hard on and was proud of “extremely corny”), so this was high praise coming from him. Yeah, I was a full-on anti-war protester back in those days and wrote several Vietnam themed poems. I am not proud of the sentiment expressed in this one. I think it may have been prompted by the My Lai massacre, but it was wrong then and so was I.
Here’s an excerpt from a poem called New Year’s Eve which I assume I wrote on New Year’s Eve. Not sure which New Year’s Eve, but given my history of ill-fated love, it could be just about ANY New Year’s Eve.
You never even took the time To see what you were using And you were shocked when you found out It was you who did the losing
And you really can't help looking back Was it all just another game? You pretend it doesn't matter But you've never felt quite the same
And when it's finally all over Will you look at your life and be sad? Will you remember the people and places And the love you could have had?
I had a typewriter and a hippie mentality back in those days. Geez, this one makes me cringe. And I’m pretty sure the punctuation is all wrong. I’d usually get A’s and B’s on content and D’s on composition. I have no idea why I took to calling myself John Mark McCrarey II. I’m the first and only. I guess I thought it looked cool. Geez.
Alright, I’ve tortured you just about enough I suppose. But before you go, let me share a short essay that just so happens to be the oldest thing in the box, written in my sophomore English class on October 22, 1970. It’s called: Love? Hah!
People are really fools but nobody ever seems to notice this, not even me, until recently. A couple of days ago a friend of mine came up to me and said, “John, I’m in love with Joyce.” I held back from laughing out of friendship, but inside I was thinking “you’re just as dumb as the rest of them.”
Not many people realize there’s no love in the world anymore. Why? Well, for one thing, nobody seems to have time for love in a modern society. Yeah, a lot of people say they’re in love, but they are only fooling themselves. Love is only in the mind. People like to think they are in in love, I guess it makes them happy. I’m not knocking love, how can I? There’s no such thing!
I was only in love once and that’s how I found out about the whole phony thing. It doesn’t make any difference though; people will still foolishly go on searching for something they will never find, something that doesn’t exist, something they call love. Hah!
Hard to believe I was so cynical about love at the tender age of fifteen. Hmm, the more things change, the more they remain the same.
As I mentioned in a post here awhile back I want to write about the lives I’ve lived within this lifetime. The ultimate vanity project to be sure but I just can’t seem to help myself. So here goes.
I guess the obvious starting point is where it all started. The life I led as a child. As I’ve looked back on those times it seems an overstatement to call childhood the foundation on which the rest of your life is built. Obviously I can only speak for myself in that regard, but I just don’t think anything that happened in those “formative” years has been a hindrance or burden to overcome nor can I see anything in that distant past that led me to become who and what I am today. Sure, it’s all about growing up and learning but I’m not sure I had enough self-awareness to have been shaped or scarred for life by childhood events. Hell, maybe I just got lucky!
Which is not to say that I had a particularly easy time of it back then. I’m still keenly aware of growing up in a working class family in a wealthy upper middle class environment that was Orange County, California in the 1960’s.
Garden Grove, my first hometown as it looked back in the day. I was technically born in Los Angeles, but we lived in Garden Grove and Westminster throughout my childhood.
I want to make the distinction between working class and poor. We always had food to eat and a roof over our heads. It may have been ground beef and chicken and our house was old and not in one of those fancy new subdivisions, but we got by alright I suppose.
And we had love. Tough love, as neither of my parents brooked much bullshit. I recall my dad in particular taking off his belt and saying before a (usually deserved) whipping “this is going to hurt me more than you”. It never really felt that way to me though…
My father managed a fast food restaurant called the “Rite Spot”. Up until McDonald’s opened a franchise right across the street. He then took up work as a route salesman delivering food items to the catering houses that served the booming construction industry. My mom worked as a carhop at a drive-in restaurant and later as an assembler on the night shift at a manufacturing plant. My grandma Pernie was always around to take care of us kids while we were growing up.
Hanging out with the bros. Ignorance can be bliss, and it took awhile before I was made aware that our family was “different” by community standards.
We vacationed every year. Usually on the Kern River a few hours away in San Bernadino county. Camping and fishing of course.
Dad always had money for beer and cigarettes, so we weren’t doing too bad. And damn, if you’ve never gutted and pan fried a rainbow trout right out of the river, well, you don’t know what you missed! And I guess maybe all those camping trips instilled in me a love of the outdoors that I satisfy today with long ass walks in the local mountains.My dad only got one week of vacation a year, but on some weekends he’d load us up in the pack of his Jeep pickup truck and drive us out to the desert. Good times!
Our street, Milton Avenue, was sort of a mishmash of 1940’s era homes surrounded by new housing developments. Well, we were bounded on one side by the newly constructed Interstate (the 405 if I recall correctly). So all my childhood friends were similarly situated, economically speaking. And we always found a way to have fun. Playing sandlot baseball, building hideouts and forts, and riding our bicycles. Me and my buds would often ride the 8 miles or so to the beach and hang out all day. We had a lot of freedom back then, sort of a “be home when the streetlights come on”, until then we were left to our own devices. We pretty much stayed out of trouble, and collected pop bottles for the deposits to give us some spending money. I have fond memories of the community spirit we developed.
When I was 11 or 12, one of the neighbors invited me to his church, a small evangelical house of worship. Well, my grandma was Assembly of God so I had been exposed to all of the craziness (like speaking in tongues) from an early age. Anyway, I wound up getting invited to join the church orchestra and choir. I didn’t play an instrument, but no problem they provided me an old lap style steel guitar. I didn’t read music, but they just numbered the frets on the guitar and put corresponding numbers on the notes of the sheet music. So, I just plucked away and used the slide accordingly. It seemed to work, or at least no one ever complained about my “music”. I’m a notoriously bad singer so they called me a tenor and stuck me in the back row. And later that summer we actually did a tour across the western U.S. states. Random church families would takes us in for the nights we were in town. I was one of the youngest members of the group and I recall not being entirely comfortable with the situation. Everyone was nice to me though, so nothing traumatic to report.
In school I was an average student at best, mostly due to laziness I suppose. I always hated homework. But it was in school that I became acutely aware that I was not like my peers. I didn’t wear the same nice clothes, didn’t live in the nice neighborhood, didn’t hang out with the cool kids. That kind of thing. And yes, kids can be cruel and they were. And so can adults. I’ve actually written a little about this before in a post called “A working class hero is something to be”.
Two incidents stand out. One day the kids were all laughing at my shoes. Which admittedly were ridiculous. A gift from my uncle who was a shoe salesman. Probably a couple of sizes too large. But they were new and so I was compelled to wear them.
They looked something like this.
Anyway, the teacher came out to see what all the commotion was about. Someone said “look at McCrarey’s shoes!”. The teacher looked and burst out laughing too. I think she felt bad about it though.
The other incident that is seared into my memory involves my 7th grade math teacher, Peter Boothroyd. I’m sure he’s dead by now so I won’t begrudge him. Much. I was being my usual smart ass self in class one day and he called me out on it by saying “Keep it up McCrarey and you’ll wind up selling jello out of a truck like your father”. Ouch. Well, as it turns out I did for a time wind up working in route sales (sandwiches, not jello). But I’m proud to say that I went on to bigger and better things, beyond anything a pea brain like Peter Boothroyd could have imagined possible. Hmm, I guess maybe I am still a little bitter.
But seriously, so I grew up poorer than most of the community that surrounded me. And that maybe resulted in me being an outsider. Perhaps it impacted my self-esteem some. Honestly, I’d say that makes me luckier than many people. I certainly had no great tragedy or trauma to overcome. And if anything if provided me more motivation later in life to make sure my kids had the kind of life I did not.
Bottom line, my childhood life seems to have little or no relevance to what I became or who I am now. I would wager that is true for most people. I think the next chapter of my life had a far greater impact on my future. A future I could just as easily have lost. Stay tuned for the next installment!
Pretty much. But I’m going to keep writing anyway.
As soon as you’re born they make you feel small By giving you no time instead of it all Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school They hate you if you’re clever and they despise a fool Till you’re so fucking crazy you can’t follow their rules A working class hero is something to be A working class hero is something to be
Been doing some thinking as I walk my life away. It occurs to me that in my lifetime I have lived many different lives. Obviously, I’m the same person I’ve always been, but I’m also radically different in many, many ways from who I was in the past. Perhaps that is true of everyone but it seems profound to me to see how this character in the book of my life has become the person that metaphorically stands before you today.
Going with the book theme, I suppose one way to look at it would be calling these lives within a life chapters in my story. But what would a chapter encompass? Decades don’t neatly align with the transitions I’m thinking about. Life events, like marriages to four different women, might come a little closer. I’m currently building a new life here in the Philippines, but you don’t necessarily change just because your location does. It’s probably more accurate to say all of these factors and events play a part in creating the lives we live within a lifetime. It’s a messy business living a life!
Again, I don’t think there is anything special or unique about my circumstances. It’s just something that I occasionally reflect on as I look back on a life (mostly) well lived. And of course given the self-indulgent autobiographical nature of much of what I post here at LTG it seems natural to share my thoughts as I try to make sense of it all.
So I guess you’ve been warned. I think I will periodically write about a “chapter” in my life story if for no other reason than to gain insights and understanding about who I am and how I got here. Of course, that presumes I’ll be able to figure out a method for doing that.
Let me take a walk and think about it. Stay tuned!
In the comments to yesterday’s post, Kevin Kim gave me a well-deserved kick in the ass some much appreciated advice regarding my reluctance to be on trail alone when I’m hiking in unknown terrain. He included a quote from a well-known hiker, Colin Fletcher, whom I’d never heard of previously. Those words really resonated with me and deserve to be highlighted in a post of their own:
“But if you judge safety to be the paramount consideration in life, you should never, under any circumstances, go on long hikes alone. Don’t take short hikes alone, either — or, for that matter, go anywhere alone. And avoid at all costs such foolhardy activities as driving, falling in love, or inhaling air that is almost certainly riddled with deadly germs. Wear wool next to the skin. Insure every good and chattel you possess against every conceivable contingency the future might bring, even if the premiums half-cripple the present. Never cross an intersection against a red light, even when you can see all roads are clear for miles. And never, of course, explore the guts of an idea that seems as if it might threaten one of your more cherished beliefs. In your wisdom, you will probably live to be a ripe old age. But you may discover, just before you die, that you have been dead for a long, long time.”
Well, hell yeah, that’s exactly right. I knew that at one time and it was a good and timely reminder. Life is for living and living in fear defeats the purpose of living.
And so today I spent some pleasant time hiking on a trail I call My Bitch, letting go of the worry and enjoying the moment each step of the way.
Thanks Colin and Kevin for reminding me what is truly important.versus what is holding me back.
“Every walk of life falls under the Testicular Imperative: Either you have the world by them, or it has you.”
Colin Fletcher
Oh, and speaking of walking, one of the La Union Hashers is also a YouTube vlogger, and he posted a video of Saturday’s Baguio Hash. Your humble correspondent makes a cameo appearance. Give it a watch–the scenery is great.
My life is relatively good here in the Philippines. I certainly have everything I need to live comfortably and well in retirement. And honestly speaking, the disappointments have for the most part been of my own making. As I’ve alluded to in previous posts I’ve yet to find “the one” who fulfills my desire for a loving and nurturing relationship. Instead I’ve been settling into a rather bizarre “friends with benefits” deal that satisfies in a somewhat unsatisfactory manner.
Regular readers will have guessed that I am speaking of Marissa. I recognize that continuing this relationship basically precludes me from pursuing (or being pursued by) the woman of my dreams, whomever and wherever she may be. And while I believe Marissa is a good woman with a kind heart she can also be quite frustrating as at times she appears incapable of meeting my relationship expectations. Consequently I’ve attempted to end our arrangement on several occasions, most recently yesterday.
Here’s the most recent example of our disconnect. Marissa normally works on Thursday nights at Alley Cats. I avoid the bar when she works because I don’t care to watch her engage in the craft of securing lady drinks from her customers. Normally she lets me know when she is finished at work and we’ll meet up for some food or videoke (karaoke). I did a little barhop on my own and dropped into the videoke bar around the time she normally gets off and waited. After a couple more beers there without hearing anything I headed out to Alley Cats to see what was happening. And I was told she hadn’t worked that night. Hmm.
I sent her a message and got no response. So I called her and got no answer. I honestly had no idea what was going on with her so I contacted Cherry, a mutual friend. Cherry advised that she had last talked to Marissa that morning who told her she wasn’t feeling well. That was news to me as Marissa had stayed over at my place on Wednesday night and seemed fine on Thursday morning. I was actually a little worried at this point and decided to finish my beer and walk to Marissa’s place to check on her. Before I could do so I received a message from Marissa saying she was with friends at the videoke bar.
That really pissed me off. Not that she was out with friends, nothing wrong with that. The fact that she hadn’t bothered to take a minute to let me know she wasn’t working and wasn’t going to meet up with me later was to my mind extremely rude. I certainly wasn’t happy that I had wasted my night waiting around for her while she was out partying so I said (wrote) the first thing that popped into my head “fuck you!”. She responded “fuck you too”. And we left it at that. And as I drunkenly made my way home that night I was resolved that this was the end.
The next day Marissa sent me a good morning message and I responded how her actions the previous night had me feel and that I thought it best that we just call it quits and be done with it. She was surprised and remorseful saying she hadn’t realized I was waiting on her to contact me or that I would be upset if she didn’t. I responded that was the problem, it hadn’t even occurred to her to consider my feelings. And then I logged off and took a long walk.
In the afternoon I got another message from Marissa saying she now understands that she was wrong, that it wouldn’t happen again, and asking for me to give her another chance. I told her I didn’t blame her because I realize it is just not in her nature to do the things that meet my needs. She said that she had no choice but to accept my decision and that she would move back home to Manila and go on with her life. She thanked me for all that I had done for her in the past and that she would cherish our memories.
Well, damn. Now I felt bad. I hadn’t expected her to want to pack up and move away. And I realized that despite her flaws I would miss her company. I had been really impressed with her willingness to join me at the Hash and to even hike “My Bitch” with me a couple of days earlier. Was I being too harsh? And then as if in answer to that question, this popped up in my Facebook feed:
When our nails are grown, we cut the nails, not the fingers. Likewise, when there are misunderstandings, CUT THE PRIDE, NOT THE RELATIONSHIP
Shit. Well, what the fuck. She had apologized and seemed sincere in trying to better accommodate my neediness. And I’d feel like crap if she moved away from a place she’s lived for a decade because of me. So I relented and decided to give it another go.
And that’s where I’m at. We’ll see what happens next I suppose. I don’t anticipate any great romance with Marissa, but she’s okay company and if she makes an effort to be better at not pissing me off I might be willing to keep her around for awhile as a companion.
Safer than being in love again, that’s for sure! And yes, it has occurred to me that there are similarities in this arrangement with my failed “Plan B” I tried with Loraine. Maybe this time will be different!
And all I can do is keep on telling you I want you, I need you But-there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you Now don’t be sad ‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad Now don’t be sad ‘Cause two out of three ain’t bad
One of those days yesterday. Feeling a little out of sorts and grumpy. I said fuck off to darts and started drinking beers instead. Drinking beers alone that is. It occurred to me that I actually didn’t have any friend to call on to just sit and join me. So I just kept my laments to myself. Late in the afternoon I moved down to the Arizona floating bar where I continued to drown my sorrows, such as they were.
There’s something about being on the water though. Surrounded by the peaceful beauty of mother nature makes it hard to stay in a bad mood. And then of course the sun started going down and I decided to document it’s departure in a series of time-lapsed photographs. Okay, yeah. I was alone and a little bored. Sue me.
First shot, still relatively high in the sky.second shot, is the sun really going down or is the horizon rising?third shot. nope, them mountains didn’t just get taller…fourth shot, no more sun to see…fifth shot. And yet, the sun shines on…sixth shot…ashes to ashes, dusk to dusk…
Which one is your favorite?
Anyway, drunk and relatively happy again I went to dine at the Arizona restaurant, one of my favorite eateries here in Barretto. Had me some BBQ ribs and they didn’t disappoint.
Got home relatively early and was feeling some pain in my left leg. Normally it is my right leg that hurts, but only when I’m sleeping on it. Weird I know. Anyway, one of my helpers (Gina) gave me a nice leg massage and coupled with the alcohol I soon fell asleep. Life is good, no?
Facebook shared a memory of one year ago when I was Hashing in Pyeongtaek.
I’ll be Hashing again later this afternoon but with a lot less clothes on…
And oh by the way…
That’s me on the floating bar yesterday. You might notice that I’ve discovered how to reverse selfie images to the proper orientation. Thanks for the tip Kevin Kim!
So anyway, given my leg pain Marissa asked me if I was still going to Hash. I told her of course. I actually don’t experience the pain when I’m walking. She responded that I walk too much, and I countered that maybe I’m not walking enough. She was incredulous and said “what are you, a walkaholic?” Now that cracked me up, especially because her English is not all that great and that’s a pretty nice pun. And I always enjoy a good pun!
Speaking of the Hash it’s about time I get ready to head out for today’s event. I saw this posted on the page of one of the Hash groups I belong to:
Yes, I can be a sick bastard but I found it funny.
Keep on lovin’ life, that’s what I plan to do!
I can’t light no more of your darkness All my pictures seem to fade to black and white I’m growing tired and time stands still before me Frozen here on the ladder of my life
Too late to save myself from falling I took a chance and changed your way of life But you misread my meaning when I met you Closed the door and left me blinded by the light
Don’t let the sun go down on me Although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see I’d just allow a fragment of your life to wander free But losing everything is like the sun going down on me
I can’t find the right romantic line But see me once and see the way I feel Don’t discard me just because you think I mean you harm But these cuts I have they need love to help them heal
“Human beings are remarkable – at what we can learn to live with. If we couldn’t get strong from what we lose, and what we miss, and what we want and can’t have, then we couldn’t ever get strong enough, could we? What else makes us strong?” –John Irving
Obviously you can’t live in the past. Learning to let the past go and move on with you life is both challenging and necessary. In many ways I’ve done better of late in that regard. But sometimes those bastards at Facebook and their godforsaken “memories” feature drag me back to days gone by.
One year ago I was either looking forward to my upcoming life in the Philippines or looking back on my latest broken heart. Or maybe both. But what I wasn’t looking at was this sweet woman Juhye. Well, who knows what you are leaving behind? At least until it’s gone. Juhye started a new life in Germany right around the time I started mine here.Two years ago I was in love with a woman destined to break my heart. I didn’t know either of those facts at the time though. Would it have mattered?
I think that’s my favorite picture of Loraine, although I don’t spend much time picking at the scabs on my heart to look at old photos from days gone by. The fact that I’m able to even post this one now is a milestone on the road to my leaving her behind once and for all. Admittedly, she made that easier by turning her back on the friendship I had attempted to maintain despite her betrayal. Ah well.
It did give me cause to consider my track record here in the PI since making the move. If you are keeping score, it looks like this:
Eva–the woman I considered my best friend. She had visited me twice in Korea and I was looking forward to having someone I could trust and rely on as I started my new life in a foreign land. Instead shortly after the move she ghosted me for reasons I still can’t understand. Hurt like hell though.
Gem–they say you can’t put a price tag on friendship, but Gemma has sadly proven otherwise. Regular readers may recall that she was the first woman I dated after the Loraine fiasco. And while the relationship did not blossom into a “love” thing (at least for me) I did value Gem’s friendship. So, we she asked to “borrow” a substantial amount of money to help her out of a short term emergency I didn’t hesitate to do what a friend would do in those circumstances. And all I’ve gotten since then is a string of broken promises. She has pretty much ceased contact with me now, although the last time I heard from her it was to tell me the money would be on its way in a few days. That was weeks ago. Whatever. The lies hurt more than the financial hit to be honest. Live and learn as they say. I still live, but will I ever learn?
Maria–another woman I had dated and then tried to maintain as a friend when the romance didn’t work out. She unfriended me on Facebook a while back because her new beau was jealous of me. Yeah, I can understand her doing that. I’m the past, he’s the future. Good luck, best wishes and all that jazz.
Marissa–I honestly don’t have a clue what I’m doing with her. She’s crap as a girlfriend so we have been doing the “friends with benefits” thing (or at least I have). Although honestly she’s been pretty disappointing as a friend as well. I almost walked away for good a couple of weeks ago but somehow managed to get sucked back in. Sometimes I’m just a weak and lonely old fool I suppose. I don’t pretend there is any future other than being drinking and fucking buddies. One of these days I’ll have to man up and let go for good. I mean, she’s a good woman and I don’t want to see her hurt. She deserves better. And so do I.
Moving on.
Eight years ago the family gathered to bury my mother in Enid, Oklahoma. I was just beginning my new life as a retiree back then and I had Jee Yeun at my side. No regrets about that, I’m glad she was there. I wish things had not ended the way they did, but that’s life.Me (in the middle of course) and the brothers circa 1960. It’s been a helluva ride!
Alright. The future awaits. Let’s get on with it!
Like every young man, I had some things that I Wanted to say Ere I could begin, you know the world got In my way
Oh Lilah, just sleep like a baby To open the window and feel the fair wind Oh Lilah, just sleep like a baby again
We spend so much time weeping and wailing and Shaking our fists Creating enemies that really don’t exist
Oh Lilah, to sleep like a baby? Just open the window and feel the fair wind Oh Lilah, to sleep like a baby again
All these comings and goings that cut like a knife These small, simple pleasures that make up a life A man needs a home, and a child, and a wife To always be there Always
After I’m gone, there are some things that I know I will miss: The taste of your mouth, the smell of the perfume On your wrist Oh, Lilah, the fields lie fallow Whate’r ye sow, so shall ye reap Oh Lilah, this ground we hallow Is ours to tend, but not to keep
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPUBu8HYZdk
UPDATE: It seems I used the “Past forgetting” title on a post back in August 2017. Ah, I guess I forgot about that.
Ah, the joy and freedom of retired life. Where your time is your own to do with as you will. Of course, filling up all those vacant hours can be a chore in its own way I suppose. Here’s how I’ve been passing the time lately.
Darts. I believe I’ve mentioned that I’m trying to rededicate myself to the game. Jee Yeun had always been my biggest fan and supporter and when I lost her I also seemed to lose my passion for the game. But I figure if I’m gonna play in competition I owe it to myself to play up to my utmost capability. And so I have added a daily practice time at home to my routines.
Oddly enough I’ve had some really good practice sessions but they don’t seem to carry over to the tournaments. Played in a big money tourney on Saturday and finished a disappointing 7th place. Last night in a small singles tournament I also threw like crap and finished 4th. Well, I know my practice is not the cause of my poor play, that’s just a coincidence. I hope. Regardless, I’m going to keep after it and see if I can’t recapture some of the past glory days.
Walking. Hey, it’s what I do. Regular readers are probably getting bored with the recitations and photographs of my adventures in and around the streets of Barretto and neighboring jurisdictions. What can I say, it’s how I spend a lot of my time and some days it’s the only fodder I have for the blog. Oddly enough, I’m not really bored with the actual walks. It’s a good time to think about shit and listen to music on the headphones. It’s helped that I’m getting a bit more adventurous and exploring new paths, roads, and trails.
I’ve also got the social aspects what with doing the Monday Hash and the Wednesday Sausage Walkers, so there’s that. And I’ve been meeting and exceeding the goals I’ve set for myself. Last week I averaged over 26,000 steps a day. I think even in retired life you need that sense of satisfaction that comes with achievement. Or so I keep telling myself. That and I don’t want to get fat again.
Drinking. Now there’s something I excel at! I practice every single day, and I must be getting better at it, right? Seriously though, I’m not out of control. I mean, I see these guys at breakfast time ordering up beers and I’m always thankful I’ve committed to not being one of them. I don’t judge (much) but that’s just not the way I want to spend my daytime hours. One of the reasons I quit the Wednesday-Friday dart league is that the matches start at 2:00 p.m. And when I throw darts I drink. And I don’t like having a buzz on at five o’clock wondering “now what am I gonna do?”
Well, I have rejoined the Friday league and I do play in the Sunday tourney, both starting at 2. And quite honestly, I’m out drinking every other night of the week too. But I stick with low alcohol beer (San Mig Zero, 3% alcohol, 60 calories), although I do drink me quite a few bottles (usually 6+). Anyway, I don’t consider it a problem. I don’t get drunk drunk (i.e. falling down, out of control, acting ridiculous). Well, no more ridiculous than I act sober anyway. I very rarely ever drink at home, so it is primarily a social activity for me.
Take last night for instance. I was enjoying some time on board the Arizona floating bar, taking in the views and quaffing some brews as it were. Then a couple of Hash buddies (HIV and Demolition Derby) showed up and joined me for more beers and chat. It was a pleasant evening. Okay, maybe sometimes I do get a little bit ridiculous.
Anyway, that’s how I’ve been filling some of the hours, however comfortably and well. I’ve got some other ideas bouncing about in my head and maybe they will come to fruition. Or at least a mildly interesting blog post. Stay tuned!
Look around me, I can see my life before me Running rings around the way it used to be I am older now I have more than what I wanted But I wish that I had started long before I did And there’s so much time to make up everywhere you turn Time we have wasted on the way So much water moving underneath the bridge Let the water come and carry us away
So I mentioned recently meeting Heidi, a bartender at Cheap Charlies. There was just something about her that instantly attracted me. She’s cute enough I suppose, but it wasn’t just her physical appearance that caught my eye. I really can’t explain it, but perhaps the chemistry that triggers a “love at first sight” reaction is inexplicable anyway.
I do know that at least for me it is a very rare event. I can count the occurrences in my lifetime on one hand. And I learned a long time ago that when those feelings arise you owe it to yourself (and the object of your desire) to at a minimum let the person know of your interest. There are worse things than rejection and I would count a missed opportunity for something rare and special among them.
But it is also true that even rarer than the type of attraction I immediately felt for Heidi is for those feelings to be mutual and reciprocated. That kind of power and intensity is usually only found in a Nicholas Sparks love story (and yeah, I really liked The Notebook, sue me!). So, there was no question I was going to find a way to convey my interest to Heidi, but how would she respond? Only one way to find out.
Given the nature of her work it was simple enough to buy her some drinks and chat her up. And honestly, the more I got to know about her the stronger my feelings became. She’s got a good head on her shoulders and a mature and responsible outlook on life. We have some common interests, including darts and walking. Heidi also has a nice sense of humor, she laughs at my jokes (well, okay the girls all laugh at my jokes because I’m buying them drinks) and she also tells her own. I like that!
I asked her if she had a passport and she said yes, although the only country she’s visited is Vietnam. I teasingly said we needed to take a romantic holiday in Bali and she told me she really wanted to visit Spain. I asked why and she told me her dream was to hike the Camino de Santiago. I had honestly never heard of that but when she explained I was once again very impressed. Could she truly be the one I’ve been waiting for?
So I dove in the best way I know how, which may not be the best way. I told her I’d really like to take her out when she gets a day off and she seemed down with that. Then I gave her my phone number. She didn’t offer her’s in return, but she did clean up my writing enough so she could read my number correctly. And that’s where I left it, the ball squarely in her court.
I dropped into Cheap Charlies last night for a beer or three and Heidi wasn’t there. Her friend Andi told me she had the day off. Okay, well then. I understand she might have been busy on her only day off, but it would have been nice to at least get a text message from her. Reading my disappointment, Andi suggested I enhance my pursuit game. And I told her no, I won’t do that. Heidi knows how I feel and what I want. If she doesn’t feel or want the same thing there’s no point in pursuit. I still have my pride and really as arrogant as it may sound, why should I have to chase after a Filipina bargirl? I could give her a life she can only dream about (including that trip to Spain). If that’s not what she wants, so be it.
Anyway, I’m good either way. I saw and felt something rare and I acted on it. Apparently it was just not meant to be. Such is life.
I saw her today at the reception In her glass was a bleeding man She was practiced at the art of deception Well I could tell by her blood-stained hands You can’t always get what you want You can’t always get what you want You can’t always get what you want But if you try sometimes you just might find You just might find You get what you need
Fourteen years ago I wrote my first blog post here at LTG. What a ride it has been! I knew moving to Korea would be an adventure but I of course had no idea what lay in store for me. Lots of good and bad during my journey, but it changed my life in ways I could never have imagined. I have no regrets about my decision to break free from my boring suburban life. Yeah, I lost two wives along the way but I guess that’s just the price of admission.
As I said back then:
On a more personal level, I have lived a very comfortable life. Too comfortable perhaps. The chance to live and work overseas in a totally alien culture seems to be an exciting opportunity to get out of my box and experience a new lifestyle. Yes, I am looking forward to the adventure. Of course, the nature of adventure is the not knowing how things will turn out. I know I will miss my family and friends and everything that is familiar and wonderfully American. I have made a two-year commitment to the Army, and if I am miserable and lost and lonely, well I will deal with it and learn what I can from the experience. Going in, I have a positive attitude and believe that I have the power to determine what I gain and how I grow as I live this new life.
And now of course, I never want to go back to where and who I was. So these days I’m living a new adventure in the Philippines.
This blog has evolved into something of a personal (probably too personal) diary of my thoughts and actions as I make my way through this world. My life truly is an open book. That’s not always good I suppose, but I do strive to be honest with my readers.
And I would be remiss if I did not give a shout out to those faithful few who have come along for the ride. I think anyone who writes needs and appreciates feedback from his audience. But I’ve gained so much more than that. I’ve made some friends and gotten the kind of brutally honest advice you might not expect or receive in the 3D world. It’s meant more to me than you’ll ever know. Thanks for sticking around!
Here’s hoping for another fourteen years of blogging. At least!
“The life in front of you is way more important than the life behind you.”
Time for an update on my love life, and here it is:
I ain’t got one.
Which of course is not news, but this is:
I don’t give a shit.
Yep, I’m steadily progressing down the road of unfucking myself. And one of the milestones on that journey has been learning to embrace the things that I have in life and stop worrying so much about what I’ve lost. Yeah, yeah, no shit Captain Obvious. Well, sometimes the easiest lessons take the longest to learn. But I’m getting there. I’ve mostly let go of the sadness that seemed to permeate my life in Korea, and when I feel it trying to creep back in I just take a gander at the mountains and the bay, sigh, and say to myself “damn, you are a lucky bastard to be living here in paradise.” Most of the time that works.
Of course, I do miss all the good things that come with being in a relationship. But these days I also remind myself of the bullshit they bring too. I can live happily without dealing with the lies, jealousy, and betrayal that seems to be part of the relationship deal. No, I’ve not given up on love nor am I closing any doors to a possible future relationship. It’s just that I’m satisfied being free to live my life as I choose. Perhaps one day someone will choose to share this life with me, but either way I fully intend to be happy walking my chosen path.
And here’s the view from where I am today:
Marissa is still the female I spend most of my time with. I’ve assigned her to the “friend zone” and she seems to have accepted that, although I suspect she hopes for more. And yes, we are “friends with benefits” so that takes care of my physical needs. And that and drinking beer are just about all that we have in common. And that’s okay, for now at least.
Gina, my domestic helper’s friend, made a play for my affections which except for one drunken night of sex I’ve rejected. Hopefully she’s gotten the message and moved on. Moved on, but not out of my house. Turns out she doesn’t really have anywhere to go. So, when she’s not visiting her kids in Manila she stays here sleeping in Tere’s room. Gina does help out some around the house for which I pay her a small pittance. I guess that technically makes her a part time employee. She says she is applying for work in the area and I think she’s hitting the dating websites trying to snag the coveted “foreigner boyfriend”. I wish her luck with that, because it ain’t gonna be me!
Speaking of the dating sites, I had several potentials chatting me up on a regular basis. And then I realized I just wasn’t interested in pursuing any of them. I mean, they all seemed nice enough but I just didn’t care enough to be bothered with it. I knew it was unfair and unkind to string them along so I’ve basically let them all know I’m not interested. Time’s too precious to waste.
I’ve also lost interest in Jessa, although I’m not sure why. I think maybe I sensed that she just wasn’t really into me, but was attracted by the fact that I could support her (and her daughter) financially. Again, I’m better off alone than in that situation.
So what the hell do I want then? Well, I really envy the Hashers who have a girlfriend with them on trail. Not sure how to go about getting one though. I know a couple of guys are dating prostitutes dancers from the bar. Sorry, and I mean no disrespect, but that’s just not my thing. I guess I’ll just leave that Hash companion fantasy in the que sera, sera category.
And pretty much all my other female friend relationships have also done a crash and burn lately. Loraine has blocked me on social media, I rarely hear from Eva, Gem apparently is not going to repay me, and Maria’s new beau has insisted she cease all contact. It’s always good to be reminded just how much others in your life truly value you. Thanks for that ladies!
So, that’s where things stand in matters of the heart. Is it any wonder I’m one happy motherfucker? Acceptance was a long time coming but I’m almost home free now. And that’s a good thing!
There are people in your life who’ve come and gone
They let you down, you know they hurt your pride
You better put it all behind you, ’cause life goes on
You keep carrying that anger, it’ll eat you up inside
I’ve been trying to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it’s about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore.
“It is during the darkest moments that we must focus to see the light.”
–Aristotle
Things are actually going quite well for me I suppose. Nothing much has changed really, other than perhaps my outlook and perceptions. I’ll give some credit to the Unfuck Yourself book, most of which is just common sense reminders of things I may have forgotten along the way. The “I’ve got this” reference comes from Chapter 4 of said book which speaks about looking back at how we’ve overcome past hurdles that seemed insurmountable at the time and then thinking confidently that whatever obstacles the future may bring will similarly be conquered. The author says our brains are wired to win and we sabotage ourselves by letting negative thoughts control our subconscious. Anyway, none of this is rocket science or an earth shattering new discovery. It’s all about attitude.
“If all our misfortunes were laid in one common heap whence everyone must take an equal portion, most people would be content to take their own and depart.”
–Socrates
The other takeaway from Chapter 4 was the reminder that in the grand scheme of things my problems are relatively meaningless. Actually, I’ve been well aware of that fact for quite some time, all the more so since moving to the Philippines. I can just look around me and observe the daily struggles of people here to put food on the table to fully understand how little my disappointments and hurt feelings truly matter in an unforgiving universe. As I’ve reflected on this obvious truth it occurred to me that there is absolutely no one here I’d want to trade places with should such an opportunity arise. I truly am blessed and the more I appreciate that fact the better off I’ll be. Life is just too damn short to waste it on sorrow and regret.
What else is going on in my world? Well, really just more of the same. And there’s nothing wrong with that!
I’ve been getting my steps in. Averaging over 20,000 per day this past week. Still carrying that extra weight around though. Turns out is is much easier to put in on than to take it off. Go figure.
Another first place finish is darts yesterday. That’s three in a row, but who’s counting?
And I continue to very much appreciate the beauty of this place I now call home. That’s last night’s sunset.
It’s been a nada kind of day. Which is a helluva lot better than a bad day, that’s for sure.
Just the routine rituals…walking the dog, walking my increasingly fat old self, taking a nap.
My morning walk took me past Marissa’s place so I snapped a photo for old times sake.
So yeah, the on again off again thing with Marissa has been off for awhile now. We’ve taken some tentative steps towards maintaining some kind of friendship. So far that has entailed meeting up for a few beers and songs at the karaoke joint. I enjoy the occasional company I suppose. And honestly I’m getting back into the “love who needs it?” mode. Well, I say that but my mind could be changed. For now I just want to play the field, such as it is. Had several prospects from the dating sites on the line but I’ve just not been able to return their enthusiasm. I feel shitty about that. Not intentionally playing with their emotions, but I’m going to put myself first for a change. No more “Mr. Nice Guy” and all that crap. Or so I say…
Did a little more poetry reading this afternoon, and came across this in one of my James Kavanaugh books:
I found this poem bookmarked by an old rose I must have given to a former love. I’m not sure if the rose was placed there randomly or not, but the poem does resonate with me…
Everything can change, for good or ill, in the blink of an eye. I’m just going to enjoy the ride as best I can.
And while I wait to meet there is always meat.
Did some grillin’ and chilliin’ this afternoon as well.
And now I reckon I’ll head out to throw some darts and quaff some brews on this best of all possible Friday nights.
Faded photograph
Covered now with lines and creases
Tickets torn in half
Memories in bits and pieces
Traces of love long ago
That didn’t work out right
Traces of love
I close my eyes and say a prayer
That in her heart she’ll find
A trace of love still there
Somewhere
“If human emotions largely result from thinking, then one may appreciably control one’s feelings by controlling one’s thoughts–or by changing the internalized sentences, or self-talk, with which one largely created the feeling in the first place.”
–Albert Ellis
So yep, I working on upping my self-talk game by emphasizing the positives in my life rather than the failures. It’s not as easy as it sounds especially when faced with yet another disappointment, the details of which I’ll spare you. There’s much, much more good than bad in my life and even what may feel like a failure now could well prove to be an opportunity down the road. Regardless, much better to count my blessings rather than my heartbreaks, right?
First time back on the scales since my vacation to the states and it wasn’t good news–I gained ten pounds! Not really a surprise given the way I was eating high card junk snacks coupled with a serious decrease in my exercise routine. So, I have a new goal to strive for and I am on it! (see more positive self-talk!)
Today’s walk on the beach revealed that the Arizona floating bar is back in operation. Not that I go there much, but it means rainy season is officially over. These next few months are the best time of the year here, or so I am told.
Not a whole lot else to report from here. Had a chat with Gina and let her know I’m not ready for a relationship just yet. She seemed to take that disappointment in stride. We’ll see. I’m gonna follow through on the date with Jessa tomorrow although I don’t foresee a future with her either. I think it’s best that I use this particular time in my life to just embrace the adventure and enjoy what each day may bring.
“It’s not that you have to find the answer, you are the answer.”
–Gary John Bishop
