A Day of Nothing

While vacuuming, I am racking my brain for what ever I was going to blog about. When you have a pretty set routine, there is no real drama to fill this big blank white area. I was finishing cleaning and got a message from a friend.

She and I discussed happenings of the weekend... and I mentioned my domestic undertakings. She said, "I did all that yesterday... Today is my lazy day."

The spark happened... The neurons started firing. Yes, my mind was "a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives." (Thanks, Hedy!)

(It's not 'Hedy',  It's 'Hedley', Hedley Lamarr!)

When I returned from 1874*, I asked myself, when was the last time anyone had a 24 hour period where they were asked of nothing.

Sure... Coma patients are pretty much the beginning, middle, and end of the list. I forget the comedian who riffed about, "We don't know what being in a coma is like... It could be the most awesome thing in the world... And here we are... Trying to pull people out of them..."

Seriously, when was the last time you had a day where the agenda consisted of Jack and Shit, and Jack just left town?

For me, starting from Sunday... If it was a payday weekend, every other Friday, I clean house. I figure if I clean house, it will keep me from going out and spending money. Regardless of payday, I also hit the gym. I also spend a spot of time composing this... FOR YOU! You're welcome! I also spend at least 2 hours completely zoned out.. Vegging. This is in order to gird my loins for the upcoming work week.

Monday... Work... Which is not the problem. It is a job... I go... I do have to interact with people... That is taxing. Then gym.

Well... That is Monday through Thursday... At night, after sufficiently cooling down and eating, I will jump in some chat rooms, maybe spin some tunes... Good times.

Friday... No gym. Fridays are good because that means booze and cheat meals. Still went to work... Dealt with people.

Saturday, when weather permits, and sometimes when it doesn't, I will get up early and try to destroy my legs on my bicycle. Laundry is usually done on the Saturdays as well...

So... when is my lazy day?

Even when I was on vacation in San Antonio, in May, the closest I got was the Saturday pool party at the hotel. I was going to hold off on drinking til at least after noon... I then had the epiphany that, "Hey... if I were at the Ren Faire, I would be drinking mead at 10:05... It is 10:08... I have a bottle of mead..." HUZZAH, Bitches!

So, after transferring the elixir to my "water bottle"... We meandered to the pool... Commence Operation: Do Fuck All!

Couple of lady friends asked what I was imbibing... I let them sample... "Oh... that's good!"... "I KNOW!!!"

They both slipped me cash... "Go get us some, pweeeeeeez??????"

I had pretty much killed the bottle, so... Driving was out... "TAXI!"

My friend and I had a mission... In the middle of our Operation... Disgraceful!!!

I bring up that day because it just proves the point, there is rarely... we're talking "Donald Trump making a coherent and well thought out, endearingly delivered, thought" rare... a day that you can just do nothing.

I say this... and I don't even have kids! Kids will fuck up a day of nothing quicker than you drawing comparisons between Donald Trump and Hitler!

I have Lily... And yes, while not the same, if I am home, I will never have a day of nothing. I could... but she would eat my guts, ass first by 7:00 AM. Then she would take a dump in the corner... Which means I would have to get my gutless, ass eaten ass out of bed and clean up shit. That would make for a shitty day... Like "President Donald Trump" shitty.

However... With careful planning, if you have the right number of kids, and once they get old enough to perform the chores... You could maybe, juuuust maybe, squeak out a day of nothing... Slave labor!!! (The kind Donald Trump hopes to bring back!)

That sort of day of nothing is the long con... I mean the four year old can't really mow the lawn...  But their little fingers are good for cleaning out the blade area, getting in all the nooks and crannies.

The preparation for having a day of nothing would be staggering. First... The ground rules for what a day of nothing consists of would have to be established... I would consult the Buddha. This is because that fat bastard always looks happier than Donald Trump shopping for a new wife (aka "The Miss America Pageant").

The Buddha says to eat when hungry, drink when thirsty, when nature calls - answer, and sleep when tired. Anything beyond that is wasted energy.

So, eating, drinking, waste evacuation, and sleeping do not infringe on a day of nothing.

Meal preparation would. So, have to fix the meals the day before. Preferably nothing needed to be reheated... Well... the easiest solution would be to have a chef and a butler... Like Donald Trump has... EVERYWHERE HE GOES. SINCE HE WAS BORN.

I guess that brings up another point. A day of nothing is not cheap. The closest most of us will ever get is when we go on a vacation. I can see sitting on a beach, tasty adult beverage in hand, delivered by resort staff, being a very close approximation.

I posit that vacations and do nothing days are essential... I have this here link to back that shit up. I was also bummed out to read, according to a survey by Expedia, that in 2009, Americans gave up around $436,000,000 in vacation days.

So, doing nothing is not easy, nor cheap. But not doing nothing could kill you.

_____________________________________

In this last tidbit here, I think about skipping the gym. I think, "No one reads my blog anyways, who's gonna care if I skip a week?" (Love you, Mom). I think the laundry will keep til next weekend...

That type of thinking is seductive. It entices you with the promise of "rest and relaxation"...

Then I think of the people on the ship in "Wall.E"... The ones in the hover chairs... Know what they were good at? Doing nothing.

Something in the way,

d

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I Want To Go? Home?

After being social, and writing about it, I was mentally tabulating the questions asked by people when going through the societal equivalent of the dog butt sniff.

The one I threw out a couple of times was, "Always lived here?"

To me, that is a very telling subject.

It brings up this weeks topic... Is it better to have moved around, or have roots in one place.

Having Roots : Pros

It is your town. You, and probably generations of your ancestors, have been a part of that community since it's founding. There is a legacy. Your name is known.

The sense of community also has a security blanket feel... Anything out of the ordinary will stand out like a sore thumb. The sense of "routine" also provides a layer of comfort.

You are friends with your neighbors... They have been your neighbors since you can remember. Kids from all over the town play together from sun up, to sun down...

When confronted on where "I grew up", my knee jerk reaction is Kansas. Hey... it worked for Clark Kent! Having moved around, it was easy to pick out who would remain after graduating. Until leaving this world... Going back to the 20 year reunion, I was correct on some, mistaken on others.

I envy the people who stayed at times. That existence is a known quantity. Life would only be as complex as YOU made it. The "hustle and bustle" does not exist in places like that. I am in no way, shape or form saying it would not be hard...

It would be rewarding. You could provide for you and yours. You could raise a family there. You could have roots.

Having Roots : Cons

The family legacy... sure... That's swell if they were all model citizens. Now, if your great, great, great Uncle Claude was a goat fucker... Your family legacy is one of livestock raping. Your name is known all right.

Sense of community? People know the color of your shit before you do. Rumor is currency, regardless of factual accuracy.  "A sense of routine"... Blogger, Please. That is the nicest way of saying, "SAME SHIT DIFFERENT DAY!!!".

Neighbors... Well... Good fences make good neighbors...And now that I am older, if I saw a gaggle of young kids roaming the street, I would remark at the parenting. Not condemn, of course... "That one kid comes from a line of goatfuckers, or so I heard..."

I am pretty sure every smaller town or community has that one Dairy Queen, that one Whataburger, that one diner, where the local gentry coming for their coffee every morning, and due to dementia, have the same conversation. I worked at the lumberyard next to the Dairy Queen... Saw them in there... Every. Morning. That was another big reason I joined the Air Force. Was time to GO.

There is a whole big ass world out there... You can sit in one place and watch it go by... Or...

Moving: Pros

The exhilaration of striking out... The pioneering spirit... The wanderlust quenched... If you don't challenge yourself, you won't grow as a person. Test your mettle! They say that moving is one of the five biggest stresses one can face. Conquer that shit!

You get to meet all new people that you would have never interacted with. Afforded the opportunity to get acquainted with new mannerisms and colloquialisms (Spelled that word correctly, first attempt... I don't care if this blog sucks donkey balls... I am proud of that shit!) native to the region. You almost can't help but have them become a part of you.

I learned to be self reliant for my own entertainment because of moving around. I discovered the love of reading. I learned how to make friends. The move to KS. in my freshman year, it was fun to have the "new kid" mystique on my side. There were all manner of rumor swirling about my past... Some I entertained, some I had to squash pretty quick...

Also, the folks did realize that moving was "difficult" on the kids... So... BRIBES, BABY! "I want my own room... I want a pool... I want a four wheeler..." Two out of three ain't bad, yo.

Moving makes you tackle the unknown... If you can tackle the unknown in one facet of your life, then the fear of it will be easily vanquished in other parts.

Moving: Cons

Um, "Pioneering Spirit"??? Really? Tell that to the Donner Party. Striking out on your own, or dragging your family along, is sooooooo fraught with peril... I used to play "The Oregon Trail"... I died of dysentery so many damn times that I looked it up.

dysentery : noun : Infection of the intestines resulting in severe diarrhea with the presence of blood and mucus in the feces. Brought on by moving.

Okay.. The last part should be amended to say "to Oregon... by covered wagon... in the 1800s.", but still...

You have to meet people. Ugh... In the vast phalanx of shaven monkeys on the planet, you are going to get along with about 4%... on a good day... You have to learn things like "smoking cigarettes" to blend in... Peer pressure is a bitch, yo!

Why do I have "Subdivisons" by Rush in my head??? "Be cool or be cast out!" Thanks, Geddy, Alex, and Neil. You get me.

Self reliance is neat and all... Turns you into quite the anti-social bastard in your later years. When asked what I do in my "off time" recently, I noticed that all my activities were pretty solitary on the participation scale. Gym, writing, bike riding, listening to music. Yeah...

Don't get to comfortable... May have to move tomorrow. Go to sleep thinking about that... Sweet dreams, pum'kin.

_______________________________________________

I talk to Moms, and she and Dad have wondered if they did the right thing by moving away from all the family in Michigan to Texas, when us kids were all really young. I was four...

I resounding tell her "YES! Hells Yes." Michigan sucked.

She does not wonder about moving the whole fam damily to Kansas when I was a Freshman... By then, Texas sucked.

When my then new bride (X1) and I made the decision to join the USAF, Kansas sucked.

Staying in a place, having a HOME... vs. Venturing out, always moving... Neither is better, neither is worse. I think back to some of the wisest words I have ever heard,

"No matter where you go... there you are." 

Thanks, Buckaroo,

d

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Train Ride To No Importance

Last month, I went to a gathering in San Antonio. It was a group of about 350 peeps. I knew a handful personally, and more than a few from Facebook. Did I know everyone? No... Did I meet some new people, sure did.

My primary purpose was to hang with two of my friends, from a national chat room, that I have known for going on four years now. They are good, good friends who help keep me relatively sane.

Last night, a local group was having a pool party. This group encompasses the Dallas, Ft. Worth area. This area is larger than the state of Connecticut. and has 9,000 times the population. Slight exaggeration, but only slight. If the group is having an event, say a Happy Hour on a Thursday in Arlington, I would have to drive an hour, fight traffic, get there, drink, then when done, drive an hour back.. On a school night... No thanks.

This pool party was two miles down the road. On a Saturday. I was going to drink anyways. Laundry was done... Shit.

So, instead, I found myself in the chat room. I mentioned the pool party, and my comrades asked if I was going to go...

"I went to a pool party last month" (Referring to the event in the first paragraph.)

"Go, you anti-social bastard!" Paraphrasing, but not by much.

This topic of "being social" has been creeping in the noggin for a couple of weeks. I was going to do it last week, but Ali died... This week was Gordie Howe... And awoke to a mass shooting in Florida... Really, 2016, fuck off already.

Being social, for me anyway, is not as easy as it is for others. I can be social, I know not to hump the leg of the person I am speaking to... Well, I know NOW... Social graces and shit are tight!

In a 1:1 exchange, I can be humorous, engaged, and dare I say, a bit charming. In a group of unknowns, I sit back and get to know the lay of the land... Who the bullshitter is, who the wanna be alpha is, who the actual alpha is, who the followers are, who the smart one is... I may let loose a quip or two to really gauge who the smart one is...

The armed forces has an actual thing called "espirit de corps" (Eh spree duh cor). It is basically saying a spirit of the core... Our shop had it in spades. When we went out, it was in a pack. You felt good knowing other's had your back, and you equally good, or better, knowing you had theirs.

We would be in a pool hall, and there would come a call for "Hey, D!!! Enthrall us with a story..."

"So... Me and Evil Ed Crane were bored..."

I had no problem holding court with my brothers in arms.

I couldn't do that with twenty strangers... I would be nervous and awkward. I would stutter and "um" and "uh" may way through, and destroy a great story involving a cheerleader, bleachers, and two merciful cops.

When I was married to X2 (Second Ex-Wife), she had a large family. They made me feel welcome and comfortable. At family gatherings, there was much socializing. No nervousness or apprehension. I could probably show up at a large gathering TODAY and they would say, "Wanna beer? Wanna beer? Wanna beer?" in rapid succession, as I used to not accept a tasty beverage until the third time asked.

Between X2 and X3, there was the SkillsNET Days and Crew... Only thing missing was camouflage uniforms and the constant aroma of JP-4 (jet fuel). And it was there that I began my affair with my Hetero Life Mate, Jack Daniels.

With X3, I withdrew. I was depressed and beat down. I was in an entirely miserable existence and did not want to inflict that upon anyone else.

So, after divorcing... I found that my social muscle had atrophied. I truly think of it as a muscle.

With the advent of "Social Media" in the years of being married, I garnered the fact that it is not really that "social". I could see all the people doing all the things... But really had no desire to participate.

Again, no strength in that social muscle.

Reconnecting with old friends, going back out to Scarborough, and yes, even the ball kicking, gut punching, soul rending activity known as "dating", started the slow process of stretching that social muscle out.

Still... The chat rooms... They give you the gift of anonymity. Gauging the audience? Who gives a flying fuck? I will troll the hell out of them... I will flame the entire room...

The rooms were a boon and a hindrance... They allowed me to socialize without having to put myself out there. Allowed me to let "me" shine through again... And that let me realize, "Hey... I like me some me!" Think of the chat rooms like Kegels for the social muscle.

The other beautiful thing about being a little bit older now, and having moved into the stage of "Hey... I LOVE me some ME!", I have no problem going to an event... A pool party... On a date... and if I am five minutes into it, not digging the scene... I fucking leave.

What are the going to do? Take away my birthday?

____________________________________

We ARE social animals. Some are just more social than others. Thanks, Orwell.

I can think of the times my parents had friends over... All two of them?

My Dad hates people more than I do, and on a larger scale. BUT, when I introduce him to friends or lady friends, he is personable and downright cordial...

Dad found Mom... and I am pretty much of the opinion that, if the rest of the world up and vanished, Dad would just say, "That will help cut down on the traffic..."

I go to the gym, working out muscles of the body. I read books, flexing neurons.

I did end up going to last night's pool party... Socially sore this morning... But that could just be the Jack.

Nodding and grinning,

d

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The Greatest

In sports, the moniker of "Legend" is one not bandied about lightly.

Then, there are the legends who get a name on top of the label. Hockey had "The Great One" in Wayne Gretzky. Football had "Sweetness" in Walter Payton. Basketball had "Air Jordan". Baseball had... I dunno... I think baseball sucks. They had someone named after a candy bar, I think.

Here is why Muhammad Ali, "The Greatest", is on a different stratosphere. Not to diminish those guy's individual accomplishments and talents, it's just that they come from team sports. Payton had an offensive line that would have made ME look pretty decent. Jordan had a supporting cast of future Hall of Famers along side him.

Ali was all by his lonesome once the bell rang. It was him versus his opponent. He entered the ring 61 times. SIXTY ONE. Fifty six of those, he left the ring the victor. Thirty seven of those, opponents were retired early, by way of getting knocked the fuck out. In his amateur career... 100 wins, 5 loses.

I have always admired boxing. There is a difference between a "Fight" and a "Boxing Match". Both have their time and place, satisfying different parts of the brain. A fierce, visceral, fight between two guys who genuinely hate each other... well, you imagine the winner is You, and the loser is the asshole who dinged your car door. You imagine the loser is your boss... Like a Snickers, it satisfies.

A "Boxing Match" between two skilled opponents is like watching chess in motion... with blood.

Muhammad Ali's strength, besides a devastating right, was this thing called "Ring Generalship". Whatever game plan you had, whatever strategy you had prepared... That's cute and all, but you were going to fight Ali's fight.

I am reminded of Miyamoto Musashi, a ronin and master swordsman in old timey Japan... When he would duel, he would find out about his opponent. If his opponent was super punctual, Musashi would show up late. If his opponent was devout, Musashi would be blasphemous.

Ali would jack with his opponents to the point they were scared. Sonny Liston pulled and fired a gun at Ali in a casino. That gun was loaded with blanks. There are reports that he carried a REAL gun to the actual fight with Ali.

Ali would show up on opponents lawns at 3AM with a PA system and start trash talking... He was going to get into your head...

ALL THIS BEFORE STEPPING INTO THE RING!

In his famous fight with George Foreman, Ali employed the "Rope A Dope". He let Foreman, with his unique fighting style of "None", keep swinging. While absorbing all that punishment, Ali would keep asking ol' George, "That all you got?". "That's it?"

In the eighth... Down went Foreman. It was tactically, the greatest boxing match I have, or will ever see. I can appreciate the art and skill watching that fight in much the same way I can appreciate a virtuoso performance by a ballerina. It was that masterful.

 Ali's two greatest fights came outside the ring.

By refusing the draft, he gave big ol' middle finger to the establishment. He took two IQ tests when 18, and was found to have an IQ of 78. That score declared him to be "unfit".

When the war pigs needed more meat for the war machine, they lowered the standards. NOW, he was draft worthy.

"I said I was the Greatest, not the smartest.", Ali said. Knowing this makes me understand his argument even more so. He did not mire his belief with all the weighty social relevance, and what his stance would mean... He simply asked, in his own braggadocios manner, "Why are you sending me to kill someone who I have no quarrel with, when you (the system) are oppressing me, and denying me my rights, right here at home?" (paraphrased - not his actual quote)

Simple fucking question that old crusty white dudes did NOT want to have to answer. Especially when it came from a black man.

The one part I take umbrage with is that a lot of kids felt that way, but were not heavyweight champions of the World at the time, so... they went to jail. Or Canada. I don't know which is worse.

He was called a "Coward" by some. I disagree vehemently with that classification. The legal case went all the way to the Supreme Court. To get a case heard by the Supreme Court, that in and of itself is a fight. You have to lose in court, more that once... I think it is three or four times, and each time, basically say, "No, your Honor, you are wrong." Ali won his Supreme Court hearing, 8-0. Yet another TKO.

I am relatively sure that if he had lost, he would have done his time. I do not know if he would have to boxing after serving the five year sentence. Maybe by not boxing, that would have saved him from his next fight...

Parkinson's is not something I would wish on my worst enemy. The brain works... but the signals coming from the brain... don't. Impairing motor function, and speech. Now, imagine all you ever known, made your livelihood with, and were known WORLDWIDE for, was your physicality and running your mouth!

The last time I saw Ali speak in public was after 9/11. It was on "America: A Tribute To Heroes". Muhammad Ali fought one last time... He fought for reason. He fought for peace. He fought against the wanting to lash out and blindly hurt others because we were hurt.

Parkinson's won. War and ignorance won.

At least he fought.

d

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P.S. - Fuck you, 2016. Please stop taking legends...

Cheap Trick Said It Best

"Want" is a funny, funny word. It is also a very dangerous one.

It's meanings as both a noun and a verb deal with desire for, or a lack of, something.

We all have wants. Even that one person who seems to have their shit completely together has a want. My Mom, the Saint, would agree... she would say she "wants her kids to be happy."

NICE TRY, MUMZIE! I think $1000 should cover it... And yes... I will take a check!

People who truly want for nothing want everyone to feel that sort of happiness. Must be nice.

I can personally say that while I have wants, they usually fall in the realm of easily obtainable things. I want to have a good workout. I want to drive fast and I want no cops to see. I want a drink. I want to have a good hair day. I want to not to go to work. I want my boots to clean themselves. I want to finish laundry. I want to have a good topic for the blog. I want to get some good sleep tonight. I want to see Civil War again.

Then... we get into the not so easy ones... I want Lily to not die. I want to be challenged at work. I want to make my Mom and Dad proud(er). I want to be in love. I want people to not suffer. I want to not be forced to choose between Hillary or Trump. I want to feel the love of a good woman. I want to time travel and just say "Don't do it" to my younger self on that one day... I want to time travel and just say "Do it" to my younger self on that one day.

I am usually found be-bopping around a couple of national chat rooms. Couple of weekends ago* I was in one on a Saturday that has webcams. I have made some friends on this particular site. Gained some notoriety. I fired up my cam, looked at who was on, and was just chilling. I noticed a name I was unfamiliar with, so I clicked on the cam.

It was an attractive young lady, looking to be in her 20's. This site has a more "aged" population. It was kind of nice to see someone younger than me.

I figured she would be getting inundated with messages from the male populace on the site, so I left her alone. Jumped off and went on with my day.

Sunday rolls around, and I jump on that particular site, fired up the cam again, and lo and behold... There she be. So, I jump into the sub chat room she was in. Received a "Hey, HPB!" from a few friends, and I joined the convo. About five minutes into arriving, I decide to hit her with a private message.

Something along the lines of, "Hey, pardon the intrusion, hope your day is going well." or something as equally devastatingly charming!

And I get a reply of, "It bummed me out you did not say Hi to me yesterday when you were on."

SHE had noticed ME... I could literally feel my Ego peering out from it's corner, leaning forward... "Go on..."

We got to speaking, moved over to a nice, more intimate Skype setting, and within hours... We got to know each other... Well.

  

Yes, she is a nice looking lady. Yes, she is flexible. Yes, she lives in Canada. Yes, I am aware of the "fantasy" that is what this is.

The greatest part of whenever we have our "sessions"... Is the way she looks at me. It is a look of desire. A look of lust. A look of unbridled want. It has been a while since I have received that look... and...

Hot diggity damn, it feels good to be wanted. If this sounds like I am bragging, well... Shut up. Let me have my moment! Thank you, oh so mucking fuch!

Here is why receiving a look like that makes the Ego roll over onto it's back and beg for a belly rub like a content dog... 

IF I can receive a look like that from a woman... An ATTRACTIVE woman at that... in a "virtual" setting... Maybe.. JUST maybe... I could do so in real life???

Last weekend, I was in San Antonio. On vacation at a four day event. Me and 350 some odd friends. Last year this event was in Austin and I was introduced to a lady. We exchanged pleasantries. Our mutual acquaintance told me after the event, that the lady was "interested".

Flattered as I was, I was also not interested in a long distance thing. The woman and I conversed ever so briefly on Facebook for a while. I think we were friends at one point. 

On Facebook, unless you are legacy, if you don't communicate directly with me at least one time in six months, Buh-Bye. I will defriend ya. Nothing personal, just them's the breaks, Sweetheart.

Well, she went Buh-Bye.

So... Friday night in San Antonio, I was told, by her, "I waited a year... and came here with the intention of fucking you."

Hot diggity... damn, it feels... good?... to be wanted? 

Couple of things... 1) After a year of build up, WHO THE FUCK could live up to those expectations? I would have to pull out the Roman Sex God handbook or some shit... 2) First I was hearing of this and I have not quite developed my "psychic muscle". How's about a head's up? 3) Would help if I had not been drinking heavily since noon and it is midnight 4) I have never been a fan, and grown out of "hit it and quit it". 5) I have never been comfortable with being another notch on someone's bedpost. Can thank my Sophomore year in high school for that one!

I guess the Ego, when stroked properly with the right implement, can make you feel pretty damn special. And that translates into you feeling more confident... which makes you more attractive... Which makes you wanted...

We all want that. Right?

_________________________________

One of the hardest questions you can get asked is, "What do you want?"

You have to search your soul. Reach down, behind the superficial. Prepare and bolster yourself for the vulnerability to honestly answer that question... Look into that person's eyes and tell them what you want...

Of course, they will listen to your deepest confession of want and reply, 

"No... For dinner, ya sappy bastard. What do you want to eat?" 

Good day, Sunshine,

d

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* Yeah... took a weekend or two off... One was just "busy", the other was on vacation in San Antonio (Where all the world's humidity is created, lives, and dies)

Gloriously Envious

I am lying in bed this morning. Going through that mental checklist of the agenda. Get up. Get cereal. Check Best Buy ad. Gotta do the blog. Gotta call Mom. Gotta gym. Got landlord swinging by at 4 o' clock...

I am already running late because... I was up late doing... research... yeah, That's what we'll call it...

The trip to the kitchen, accompanied by the checking in of the damn dog, "Ah... Cereal... Nothing for me... Made me get up for nothing... Thanks, Dick.", ended with disappointment.

There was just enough cereal, upon a casual glance, to not make it to the grocery shopping list... But come this morning, not enough to really make a satisfying bowl of cereal. It was like a "cereal tease".

The concept for this weeks offering was lain out Wednesday night. On weeknights, I like to watch a quick, twenty two minute (no commercials, ya know) sitcom, to numb my brain a little before drifting off to slumber land.

The choices were a plenty, but then I stopped on "The Office". The U.S. version. That series will always hit a spot. The writers crafted a beautiful arc for two of the characters. When they finally, really and truly are together, you pump your fist in the air. I would venture because if someone thought it... It could possibly happen. And if is possible, it could happen for me.

It got me thinking of other cinematic romances that have resonated...

Clarence and Alabama

"True Romance" (1993) was lot of people's unbeknownst introduction to Quentin Tarantino. The two characters are in over their heads. Waaaay over their heads.

The only thing in their favor... Each other.

The flick ends with a monologue from Alabama that will always strike a chord on the ol' heartstrings...

"Amid the chaos of that day, when all I could hear was the thunder of gunshots, and all I could smell was the violence in the air, I look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true, that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves like a broken record: 'You're so cool', 'You're so cool', 'You're so cool'. And sometimes Clarence asks me what I would have done if he had died, if that bullet had been two inches more to the left. To this, I always smile, as if I'm not going to satisfy him with a response. But I always do. I tell him of how I would want to die, but that the anguish and the want of death would fade like the stars at dawn, and that things would be much as they are now. Perhaps. Except maybe I wouldn't have named our son Elvis."

We all want to be thought of as "cool" by our partners...

Virgil/"Bud" and Lindsey Brigman 

In the "Abyss" (1989), it showed what "til death do you part." means...

There is a scene, where he basically has to let her die. And NOT JUST watch, but look into her eyes as... Fuck.,.. It has been 27 some odd years and it still causes me a shortness of breath... Then he saves her... (Spoiler alert!)

When it is his turn... and he is alone... in the dark... falling farther and farther... All he has, is her voice.

"I know how alone you feel... alone in all that cold blackness... but I'm there in the dark with you. Oh Bud... you're not alone... Oh, God. You remember that time - you were pretty drunk, you probably don't remember - but the power went out in that little apartment we had on Orange Street? We were staring at that one little candle, and I, I said something really dumb like, that candle was me, and like every one of us is out there alone in the dark in this life... and you just, you just lit up another candle and you put it beside mine and said 'No! See, that's me. That's me'... and we stared at the two candles, and then... well, if you remember any of this, I'm sure you remember the next part. But there *are* two candles in the dark. I'm with you. I'll always be with you Bud, I promise that."

The point of being a relationship is not just "not being alone". It is finding that person who bolsters you.., makes it so you feel invincible and able to face things by yourself... but there is the added benefit of just being with them.

Lloyd and Diane

I remember the high school I graduated, albeit barely, from had flyers hung up for the showing of "Say Anything" (again with the 1989).

It was so good at capturing the meaning of relationships for young adults, that even the board of education was of the impression that these idiot kids should see it.

Theirs would not be a romance without trials and tribulations... At the "reunion"... Diane exclaims, "Everything else means nothing to me. If I hurt you again, I'll die.".

Lloyd, who all young men should want to be more like, and not so blinded that he is without a pinch of concern, replies, "One question: are you here 'cause you need 'someone', or 'cause you need 'me'?... Forget it, I don't care."

Okay... his cynicism lasted five seconds... Love is helluva drug.

The movie ends with perhaps what we all hope for. A flavor of optimism that only comes from when you are coupled with someone who is wholly and fully on your side... and you are fully and wholly on their side. It is literally you and them versus the world - and the world would tremble if it knew what it was facing.

Diane Court: Nobody thinks it will work, do they?
Lloyd Dobler: No. You just described every great success story.

Wesley and Buttercup

I mean... c'mon... "The Princess Bride" (1987)...

The absolute surety... The zero faltering delivery of the line, "Hear this now: I will always come for you."

Buttercup, having been through some turmoil, questions, "But how you can be sure?"

Westley, THE MAN!, comes right back with, "This is true love - you think this happens every day?"

It is abundantly clear that while I enjoy the ren faires for a multitude of reasons, this flick has a lot to do with it as well... The air of chivalry... The fair maiden... The pirate... Oh, yeah...

And I swear to all that is holy and unholy... If you want to win the charms and affections of a lady or gent - About every fifth request from them... Throw down the line that, for close to three decades, has been code for three other little words...

"As you wish"

You're welcome.

Jim and Pam

As stated earlier, sitcoms are my wind down. I need to not think or care for a bit. I need something humorous to end my day.

I knew as soon as I started "The Office" (for the third or fourth time now), I was in for the emotional roller coaster that is Jim Halpert and Pam Beesley.

One episode they just look at each other for almost 30 seconds.. Not saying anything... but conveying a metric fuck ton of emotion. It should not work or have a place in a show, a comedy even, where they only have 22 minutes... But it is the moments like that make you give a damn about the characters. It "endears" you to them...

Jim loses a major sale... one that he states is 25% of his commission... But, since Pam fell asleep during a meeting and laid her head on his shoulder... He decrees it a "good day",

The best moment... The PERFECT moment... is at the very, very end of Season 3. The series had a pseudo-documentary feel to it. The scenes would either begin or be ended by an "interview", one on one with a character.

Pam is being interviewed, and she is asked a question... Jim steps in, interrupts, apologizes to the documentary film crew, and asks Pam if she is free for dinner.

Visibly taken aback, but quick with the "Yes" answer... She turns back to the camera, and in five seconds, with tears of unabashed happiness welling in her eyes, her face expresses a joy and a light that capture "love". Jenna Fischer knocked out of the fucking park in that scene...

I would make the suggestion that one regularly make the effort to see their partner "for the first time" now and again. Stop taking them for granted, and when they walk into a room, look at them as if you have not seen them for a month.

You're welcome... again.

Mom and Dad

Nothing beats the real thing, baby... or so the songs say.

Being inundated with the concept of love and romance, as interpreted by Hollywood, is neat and all. It gives you an ideal. It is engineered to make you have all the feels. That is their mission.

Being inundated with two people who love each other, every day is better. Through the grind. Through the routine. Through the monotony of life. THAT is the best gift I can never have. For the most part, I am okay with that fact... They have their thing... It works for them...

On certain aspects of their thing though, I am, as the title states, gloriously envious, of what my parents have. To me, it is the "freedom from uncertainty".

Dad KNEW... KNEW that everyday when he left for work... He kissed my Mom. In doing so, he said, "I am fairly positive I will see you again, but just in case, I want this to be my last act with you."

Ah... but why "fairly positive"??? Does that not counter your "freedom of uncertainty" statement???

No... And allow me to explain, ya doubtful galoot.

If something were to befall my Father at work, or on the way to or fro... He was certain that his wife, the woman he loves, had ZERO doubts as to his love for her... and THAT was his freedom from uncertainty.

Dad also KNEW that without FAIL... His wife, his love would be there to kiss him upon his return.

Pretty sure that would make any grind, any routine, easier to process. The job would be just a "thing to get through" in order to get home... and get that kiss.

After retiring, my Mom "Strongly Suggested" that Dad get a part time job... She mentioned missing kissing him when he got home... She essentially missed missing him...

Say it with me, "Awwwww"

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I know a lot of the examples listed are fairy tales. Some of them even made it to TV and cinema. It is easy to be envious of the kind of loves expressed and the actions, driven by said love, that our heroes an heroines undertake.

I guess I just want someone who would remember to get me some cereal for my Sunday mornings when I forget.

See you on Aisle 6,  

d

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White Glove to the Face!

This blog idea, or inspiration, came to me earlier this week Sometimes I sit down to write and basically have to pull something from my ass. Dad can usually weed those out and tells me "You wandered a bit on that one." Everyone's a critic.

We had some bad weather coming through, a line of storms on Tuesday night. The meteorologists were broadcasting doom and gloom.  They all but screamed, "HOLY SHIT!!! WE ARE ALL GONNA DIE!!! Now to sports..."

I got some lightning... A little rain... Not too much.

I have been thinking that there is zero challenge in my life right now... And while I would not mind something of a challenge, Mother Nature PMS'ing all over the crib is NOT on the list. NOTE: I am renting... and have renter's insurance... Again... none too challenging.

Why do we sometimes crave it a challenge? Simple, we want to know where we stand. What we can withstand. What is the threshold? What is too much?

I harken to Brad Pitt's Tyler Durden asking Edward Norton's the Narrator, in "Fight Club", "How much can you know about yourself, you've never been in a fight. I don't wanna die without any scars. So, come on and hit me before I lose my nerve."

In Tyler we trusted, but I got plenty of scars and been in my fair share of fights, thank you very much.

I won some, I lost some. I have gotten the shit kicked out of me. Thankfully, never literally, but as the father in "Friday" said, "You live to fight another day." You are tested in a fight in such a primitive and brutally, bloody, black and white manner... You win. You lose. End of list.

I guess that before supermarkets, Whole Paycheck Foods, and the like, as a man, you were tested in your hunter-gatherer role... So, no shortage of testosterone when you hunted, foraged, provided, and were compensated with female attention... and that was your SUNDAY!

Now that we are at the top of the food chain, the challenge of providing food for your family comes down to not punching that one co-worker who KNOWS it was your FUCKING YOGURT in the fridge... You Shaprie'd that shit with your name... Ugh...

If you were to punch that yogurt stealing sumbitch... you would get fired.. and therefore could not provide...

And before you say we are not at the top of the food chain... Bears, sharks, tigers, lions... Yeah... I know... If I see any of those things in my backyard, I stay the fuck inside... And wonder how in the name of all that is unholy did a shark end up on my patio?

Speaking of work... We all want a rewarding job... or at least that's what it says on the resume. We want to be challenged.  I am a programmer, and I like being presented with a challenging project.

I DO NOT like being presented with a request of "I need a report for <insert whatever their superior asked for>".

Mmmkay, Pum'kin... Do we capture that data anywhere? Have we ever captured that data? What data do you need to see on this "Just Pulled From Your Ass" Report? How would you like the data sorted?

We go back to the challenge of NOT punching Clueless McWasteMyTime in the word hole.

To me... The challenge comes in the form of, "What is the most elegant solution to the problem?" If other programmers were to come in after I won the lottery, would they have a moment of "Ahhhh, I like this bit of code here... Oooh... I see what you did with that... NOICE!"

Without a challenge in your workplace, you quickly reach stagnation. No movement. No catalyst for change. Makes for a long 9 to 5...

Life is the biggest challenge of all... and here's the punchline... You can't win! No one gets out of here alive!

When Rocky Balboa, in "Rocky Balboa", tells his kid...

Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place, and I don't care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that AIN'T YOU! You're better than that! I'm always gonna love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You're my son and you're my blood. You're the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, ya ain't gonna have a life. Don't forget to visit your mother.

That last line, of course, slays me... But still... Life is not a challenge, life is THE challenge.

I can't say anything to top ol' Rock... so... Moving on...

In Love the challenges are myriad... I want my potential mate to be smart, of course, but I want her to challenge my opinions, my preconceived notions...

I am kind of a stubborn asshole on certain things... Namely, whatever I declare "Awesome-sauce".

I will debate vehemently that Metallica's "Master of Puppets" is the greatest metal album of all time... If I were to go on a date and ask "whatshername" what the greatest metal album of all time is, there are maybe five contenders that I would allow her to state her case for.

If she were to offer "Silver Side Up" by Nickelback... I would finish my drink... Stand up... Walk out...

Couple of things that I realized about that example... 1) I really am an opinionated asshole on certain things... 2) I am very pleased that I had to google "Nickelback discography" to snag an album title for the shittiest band ever (NOT OPINION, VERIFIABLE FACT!).

The last date I went on, was pleasant. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the other party. Over the second drink, I ran permutations and did the mental calculations... and knew exactly how it was going to turn out. It was not a fairy tale ending... So... It was a one off date. Because there was no challenge.

Ah, Dear Dougie, you complete nincompoop... You can never tell how things will turn out and you are making decisions for the other person and that isn't fair to them!

Um... which is worse, making decisions for them or wasting their time?

Also, when I say I want a challenge from my lover... I don't mean constantly testing me... Constantly confrontational... And I sure as shit don't want mean or bossy...

The biggest challenge in love, to me, is being able to GIVE yourself to another person completely... without LOSING yourself in the process. Close second - when to ask for a threesome... Kidding. (it's 6th!)

__________________________________

We like to be tested. Weighed and measured. We like to know the benchmarks... SO WE CAN IMPROVE!!!

Just yesterday, I saw this...  

The one thing I wish I could impart to people is... Fail. Fail gloriously and LEARN FROM IT! Let that queasy feeling of "Damn, I messed up" gestate and burst forth in the next attempt. You may not get it right this time either... but you did not mess up the same way and that shit is called "Progress".

Also, when you think of your challenges... How insurmountable they are... How you are besieged... Just remember, there are people out there dealing with shit you can not even fathom. You could always find someone that will beat you in a "Fuck-Up Life Off" ala Wade and Vanessa. ("Deadpool" out on blu-ray, May 10th!)

Maximum effort,

d

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