Some of you may have noticed a rather Zen bent to my recent blogs. That's because I have been actively chasing my enlightenment. I feel at this stage of my life I need to be focused on my fellow human beings and how I can better love them and myself. Y'know what makes doing that difficult? Asshole Fuktard Drivers.
Some of my Favorites:
1. Line Cutter These people are obviously special and their time cannot possibly be wasted waiting in line for the on-ramp like every other mother effer in a mile long line. No. They need to zip up all the way to the front and wedge their special ass in at the last minute. Neat.
2. Weaver Traffic is moving, sometimes even at a decent rate, but it's never fast enough for these folks. Everybody else is going with the flow, following a reasonable amount of car lengths behind the person in front of them, no one making any more progress than the next guy, but these fuckers aren't havin' it. They're blasting up to the rear of whoever is in their lane and then darting over at the first chance, hopping around like a flea on speed, not really getting ahead, but thoroughly pissing everyone off in the process.
3. Day Dreamer These people are truly blessed. Their lives are so unencumbered that they have all the time in the world to be in front of you. With no agenda whatsoever, it begs the question, "Where the fuck are they going anyway?!?" With an amazing gift for forward thinking, they never check their rearview, especially because the only thing in it is a string of angry commuters behind them. God help you if two of these arses 'link arms' in adjoining lanes and cavalierly meander down the highway.
4. Teenage Texter Like a daredevil who's tired of living, these carefree souls drift in and out of their lanes, too engrossed in the riveting dialogue they are having with their complexion challenged boyfriends to pay attention to their impending fate, or those around them. They care not for human life, only for status updates of their pajama wearing friends and where they will be hanging out later, murdering the English language.
5. The Terminally Polite Oh sure, they sound harmless, and they are if you meet up with them, one on one, at a four way stop. But behind a pair of these, you can easily lose your mind. Riddled with indecision and good manners, they can clog an intersection or turn lane for what seems like hours. The insidious nature of their evil is that they appear polite whilst driving you crazy, thereby making you look like the asshole, what with your screaming and flailing of arms.
I have tried to find love in my heart for these people, but alas, it is beyond me. They have tested my better nature, and have won. I fear I will never attain my goal of enlightenment until these motherfuckers are scraped from the face of the planet. It's a long road ahead.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The Beauty of Daddy
I have been many things in my lifetime, not all of them noble. As a matter of fact, I hesitate to recall my past too often, for it pains me deeply. I look horrible on paper. My past is an embarrassment and I wasn't raised that way; I have no excuse. I have heard many times that, whatever road has brought you here was worth traveling, in that all your experiences make you who you are today. I guess this gives me a bit of solace. But no achievement has given me close to the satisfaction than that of the love of my children.
Y'know, your kids don't have to love you. Ask around, there are plenty of people who will tell you there is no love lost between them and their parents. Children are amazing barometers, they're absolutely unjaded. Poor kids love their folks; they care not for material excess, just for love. Kids with disabled parents, uneducated parents, fat parents, even ugly parents, all love them just the same. But you have to earn that shit. You can't buy it, you can't steal it, and you sure as hell can't demand it. There are people that force their kids to respect them, or at least show respect to them. I would argue that this is more fear than respect, but people that bully their own kids won't see that distinction.
Kids come out clean, well, once you wash them off, and they will react to you in an amazingly honest way. You ever have a cat that didn't like anyone, and there is always that one friend that comes over and the damn thing is rubbing all over him. Kids are the same way, well, without the rubbing part, that would be weird, but you know what I mean; they can just sense that this is a good person. Ever try to bullshit your kids about something? They're not buying it. They may be too young to know what the real story is, but they know you're full of shit. Don't worry, they probably love you enough not to call you out on it, but still, they're watching you.
I try not to impart wisdom on my kids too much, mostly 'cause I ain't got none. But I find that they impart wisdom to me all the time. Little truisms that I have forgotten along the way. Stuff my grandfather taught me but has been lost in the shuffle of adulthood. It's amazing what they can see through their tiny unfiltered lenses. Their world is much less complicated than ours and it allows them a tremendous freedom of observation. For one, they are not concerned about how they appear to others. That is something you will undoubtedly dump on them later. Thanks. Ooohh, put this one on, don't you look cute! Fix your hair, oh, that's cute! Look cute! Look cute! Look cute!
Geezus! Will you fucken get off me lady?!? I'm just tryin' to ride my fucken bike! Sheesh.
I do a lot of watching of my kids, and they in turn watch me. And without trying, without manipulation, without any effort at all, you parent. They aren't looking for much, just a little love and mutual respect. That's right, you have to respect your kids. You thought they just had to respect you, right? Fuck no. They are you. And if you don't respect yourself...nobody else will either. They want you to be good. To them, to others, to the World. If you are a good person, you don't have to tell them, they'll see it. Tough guys don't tell you how tough they are, they just knock the shit out of you when you fuck up. Likewise, good parents don't do a lot of talking. Don't tell me, show me.
My grandfather was a great man. I can hardly even think about him without crying. You can't buy that shit. He never told me to love him like that. He would never. He only told me what was necessary to know, the rest he showed me by his actions. The way he loved my grandmother. The way he treated other people. The way he treated himself. I'll never be my grandfather, I don't think anyone could. If I could be half the man he was, and live that for my children, I would die a happy man.
Now go ride your bike.
Y'know, your kids don't have to love you. Ask around, there are plenty of people who will tell you there is no love lost between them and their parents. Children are amazing barometers, they're absolutely unjaded. Poor kids love their folks; they care not for material excess, just for love. Kids with disabled parents, uneducated parents, fat parents, even ugly parents, all love them just the same. But you have to earn that shit. You can't buy it, you can't steal it, and you sure as hell can't demand it. There are people that force their kids to respect them, or at least show respect to them. I would argue that this is more fear than respect, but people that bully their own kids won't see that distinction.
Kids come out clean, well, once you wash them off, and they will react to you in an amazingly honest way. You ever have a cat that didn't like anyone, and there is always that one friend that comes over and the damn thing is rubbing all over him. Kids are the same way, well, without the rubbing part, that would be weird, but you know what I mean; they can just sense that this is a good person. Ever try to bullshit your kids about something? They're not buying it. They may be too young to know what the real story is, but they know you're full of shit. Don't worry, they probably love you enough not to call you out on it, but still, they're watching you.
I try not to impart wisdom on my kids too much, mostly 'cause I ain't got none. But I find that they impart wisdom to me all the time. Little truisms that I have forgotten along the way. Stuff my grandfather taught me but has been lost in the shuffle of adulthood. It's amazing what they can see through their tiny unfiltered lenses. Their world is much less complicated than ours and it allows them a tremendous freedom of observation. For one, they are not concerned about how they appear to others. That is something you will undoubtedly dump on them later. Thanks. Ooohh, put this one on, don't you look cute! Fix your hair, oh, that's cute! Look cute! Look cute! Look cute!
Geezus! Will you fucken get off me lady?!? I'm just tryin' to ride my fucken bike! Sheesh.
I do a lot of watching of my kids, and they in turn watch me. And without trying, without manipulation, without any effort at all, you parent. They aren't looking for much, just a little love and mutual respect. That's right, you have to respect your kids. You thought they just had to respect you, right? Fuck no. They are you. And if you don't respect yourself...nobody else will either. They want you to be good. To them, to others, to the World. If you are a good person, you don't have to tell them, they'll see it. Tough guys don't tell you how tough they are, they just knock the shit out of you when you fuck up. Likewise, good parents don't do a lot of talking. Don't tell me, show me.
My grandfather was a great man. I can hardly even think about him without crying. You can't buy that shit. He never told me to love him like that. He would never. He only told me what was necessary to know, the rest he showed me by his actions. The way he loved my grandmother. The way he treated other people. The way he treated himself. I'll never be my grandfather, I don't think anyone could. If I could be half the man he was, and live that for my children, I would die a happy man.
Now go ride your bike.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
A Good Right Spot
It's hard to find your place in this world. I've been searching for almost forty four years now and I still haven't found it. Mainly because the place I'm looking for keeps changing. This can make searching exceedingly difficult. I'm convinced my car keys do something similar sometimes.
When I was a kid, I wasn't concerned with where my place was. I was in it. I wish I had been more aware of how Zen I was then, but maybe that's the key, I was just 'being' I wasn't worried about destinations or futures or any of the other myriad things that seem to dominate the adult mind. I never troubled over taking tests in school, I always assumed I'd do alright. So confident in this was I (and given to daydreaming) that I would dawdle about till the end, then feel pressured to finish; a fact that so closely mirrors my later experiences, not to mention my sex life, that it's scary.
Almost immediately, I started my career of worry. The world in general is helping you along with this, constantly reminding you that time is of the essence and you're lagging behind on whatever endeavors you are undertaking. One breath in, and the clock starts ticking. living in the city doesn't help. just like the military, hurry up and wait. Maybe this is why people get institutionalized and ultimately become comfortable being in prison, limited options. Take away the options, take away the concern. That's the problem with modern life, too many choices.
I often fantasize about an agrarian lifestyle. A life of simple toil, working the soil from dawn to dusk. There's only one problem with this scenario, no sushi. I'm a city kid, always have been. No, I'm going to have to make my stand here, with the hipsters and the one percenters (that used to mean bikers) the dope fiends and soccer moms, computer dorks and tattooed scumbags, all thrown together whether they like it or not. So to find enlightenment amongst this diverse group of self-centered pricks is...difficult.
Recently, It has occurred to me that the place we are all seeking, that utopian time in your life, where all your ducks are in a row and you feel completely satisfied, in your career and relationships, globally, spiritually, Universally... doesn't fucking exist. What a ridiculously naive idea. Did you think it might?!? When was the last time you got what you wanted? Ok, that one Christmas when you were seven. Well, that was it, I hope you made the best of it. I had a bike once, a black Schwinn Stingray with a banana seat. I rode the shit outta that thing. Summertime, by myself, no worries, no agenda. It. Was. Wonderful. And it's fucken over. There's no going back. It's true, you can't go home again, and I think of all things, this makes me the saddest.
What you can do, is set up your part of the world to facilitate the next generation's perfect bike ride. Funny thing is, that place, the one I'm constantly looking for, I'm always in it, I just have to learn to appreciate that fact.
Now go ride your bike.
When I was a kid, I wasn't concerned with where my place was. I was in it. I wish I had been more aware of how Zen I was then, but maybe that's the key, I was just 'being' I wasn't worried about destinations or futures or any of the other myriad things that seem to dominate the adult mind. I never troubled over taking tests in school, I always assumed I'd do alright. So confident in this was I (and given to daydreaming) that I would dawdle about till the end, then feel pressured to finish; a fact that so closely mirrors my later experiences, not to mention my sex life, that it's scary.
Almost immediately, I started my career of worry. The world in general is helping you along with this, constantly reminding you that time is of the essence and you're lagging behind on whatever endeavors you are undertaking. One breath in, and the clock starts ticking. living in the city doesn't help. just like the military, hurry up and wait. Maybe this is why people get institutionalized and ultimately become comfortable being in prison, limited options. Take away the options, take away the concern. That's the problem with modern life, too many choices.
I often fantasize about an agrarian lifestyle. A life of simple toil, working the soil from dawn to dusk. There's only one problem with this scenario, no sushi. I'm a city kid, always have been. No, I'm going to have to make my stand here, with the hipsters and the one percenters (that used to mean bikers) the dope fiends and soccer moms, computer dorks and tattooed scumbags, all thrown together whether they like it or not. So to find enlightenment amongst this diverse group of self-centered pricks is...difficult.
Recently, It has occurred to me that the place we are all seeking, that utopian time in your life, where all your ducks are in a row and you feel completely satisfied, in your career and relationships, globally, spiritually, Universally... doesn't fucking exist. What a ridiculously naive idea. Did you think it might?!? When was the last time you got what you wanted? Ok, that one Christmas when you were seven. Well, that was it, I hope you made the best of it. I had a bike once, a black Schwinn Stingray with a banana seat. I rode the shit outta that thing. Summertime, by myself, no worries, no agenda. It. Was. Wonderful. And it's fucken over. There's no going back. It's true, you can't go home again, and I think of all things, this makes me the saddest.
What you can do, is set up your part of the world to facilitate the next generation's perfect bike ride. Funny thing is, that place, the one I'm constantly looking for, I'm always in it, I just have to learn to appreciate that fact.
Now go ride your bike.
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