Checking In

     Wow, it's been quite a while since I have written. Many things in life diverting me from what should be my focus. It's not that these things are trivial, in fact, they are quite important; but they are not the true goal.

     It's hard to know sometimes what is and is not worthy of your concern. Work is important. Without it we can't pay our bills and more importantly we lose our self identity. Work is who you are, what you are passionate about. It isn't necessarily your 'job' but it could be. We should all be working harder to do more, achieve more, set new goals. It is what gives you purpose and more importantly gives you a sense of self and accomplishment. Without it you are rudderless, adrift in the sea of life, cast about and miserable. 

     Given all these things, it is understandable to focus on work, focus on your art, focus on your goals; as well you should! But is there something more? There might be. Family right? I'm gonna say some crap about family or spirituality and then hand you a pamphlet about Jesus. No. For some it is about that. And I think keeping an open mind about spiritual things is wise. And family is important, but I don't think it is as easy as all that.
     I think it might be how you focus on these things. Yes, take care of your family, but do you appreciate the time spent with them? Yes, focus on your career, but are you aware of setting a balance? Life is a marathon, not a sprint. Rome wasn't built in a day. You probably aren't the A Number 1 at whatever you do, but who the hell is?!? Are you nice? Do you think about others? Are you good to your family and friends? Well then I'm sure people appreciate you. Maybe even more than the successful prick in the corner office. And try and be nice to that prick, he probably doesn't have many friends. He's lonely. He lashes out sometimes.

     I've had a couple months of slight medical issues recently, and it really changes your view. Your body is the one vehicle we have for life, and yet we rarely listen to what it is saying to us. It's like driving your car without ever looking at your gauges. I know some of you ladies right now are wondering, "What are the gauges?" They're the things just beyond your Iphone screen, stop texting for a minute and look down at your dashboard...theeeerre they are. :D
     Listen, I'm the worst, I've been runnin' this 'ole clunker on bad gas fer as long as I kin remember. But being the best isn't gonna matter if you're not around to enjoy it. As the Buddhists say,"Take the middle path." All things in moderation. I'm not ever going to be the best, and it has taken many years for me to swallow that bitter, bitter pill. But my kids still think I'm pretty cool, and until they find out otherwise, I'm going to enjoy it.

     And so I'm going to try and take it easy now. If my hair ain't on fire, then my hair ain't on fire, so I'll try and relax and enjoy the things around me. I appreciate my wife, she really loves me. My kids are pretty cool, and they are glad to see me when I come home. My grandfather was pretty even keel for the most part. I appreciate what he learned me; I'm gonna practice what he taught. And if you are reading this, then I appreciate you too. Try and take it easy on people, they're doing the best they can. And try and take it easy on yourself, it's gonna get better, it always does.

     Now go out there and ride your bike.

Why Grooming Matters and the Joys of a Clean Cage

     Depression sucks. By definition, it is depressing. I am not a physician, but I do think clinical depression is a thing. It's probably not as ubiquitous as skinny jeans on hipsters, as pharmaceutical ads might have you believe, but I'm sure it's out there. 

     But this isn't a virus we're talking about here. You don't just show up at your buddy's house from high school that looks like an episode of 'Hoarders' and get it from direct contact with the bongwater in the rug. These things are cultivated, grown carefully over time and at such a slow rate that you won't see it until it has overtaken you. The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step and so too does negativity. It is insidious and as banal as a bad attitude. Constant vigilance, the only defense. 

     This may be, but what has it to do with grooming? Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Ever hear that? Well it's true. When were you the most unkempt? Your twenties? When you would dress like a member of Pearl Jam and drink all night and sleep all day? No one goes to the market in their jammies buying hangover remedies and feels good about it. Nobody shame walks two miles back to their car, smelling like whiskey and B.O. and thinks, "That was totally worth it!"

     Okay, sometimes, but it's pretty rare. My point is, that grooming can be a good indicator of virtue. Do you smell good? Well then you probably haven't committed any recent crimes. Therefor you might feel pretty good about yourself. See?

     When you're dressed nice, you don't sit home watching 'It's Always Sunny' eating ice cream from the container, screening your calls. No, you go out. You want people to see you. You interact. You have fun. When you dress well, you're early. When you're unkempt you're late. Or, you never even show up at all. Begin shame spiral.

     Afraid someone might question your motives for dressing nice?
   "Why are you so dressed up, are you going to court?"
   "Just because you dress like a hobo doesn't mean I can't look nice."

     This is also true of your living space. How many visitors do you have over when your house is a shit sty? Not many. And if anyone does show up, you block the view from the door with your terry cloth robe. The one with the Kool-Aid stain and the dried hard spot.

     I know, I know, it's fucken hard to stay on top of things like manner of dress and household chores when you have so many other things to contend with in your life. But it has been my experience that if you make the time for cleaning and grooming, the result in your attitude enables you to better affect those other areas. Good begets good. And vice versa. Clean yourself up and scrub your cage, and you'll be amazed at the energy you'll find.

     So go take on the day and discover the joys of a nice shirt.

But You Didn't Have to Cuuut Me Off

     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.

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.


     

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.

Oh, I can't have that? Well then I want it.

     I have a hard time staying grateful. It's not that I don't have a lot to be grateful for, I do. It's just that like most people, I am almost constantly looking forward, thinking about the future.


     When you're growing up they're always telling you that you need to think about the future. Well, I am here to tell you that they are wrong.
   
     First:  When you are young, the last thing you should be doing is worrying about your future, and when they say 'thinking' they actually mean 'worry'. Kid's shouldn't 'worry' about anything. You only have your one childhood to be carefree. Your whole adult life will more than likely be filled with angst, no need to rush into it. Not to mention you're a kid. What the hell do you know about planning for the future anyway? No, what they are really telling you is that you should be planning for the future that they think you should have. Oh yeah? Well if you feel so strongly about it, you do the fucken planning then, I'm going outside to play. And kids, for the record, that is where playing is done, outside. Not inside some dark room with a computer, there will be plenty of time for that later on.


     Second:  When was the last time something worked out the way you planned it? That's right, never. Well get used to it, because there's a lot more of that coming. Planning is for pregnant women and fools. You can 'plan' all you want to, and the world will still throw you a curve. You know what you should plan for? Not knowing what the fuck is goin' on, 'cause that's what's gonna happen. I 'planned' on being a rockstar with an eight-pack that had hot wings smuggled to his jacuzzi inside the bikinis of Russian supermodels. Most of that didn't pan out. Thank God I at least got the hot wings. My point is, what I have is better than that. (my wife reads these.) And you can't know how happy something that you never dreamed of will make you. 


     Too much planning sets you up for failure. Now I'm not suggesting you just plop down on the couch and wait for the good times; a little hard work goes a long way. But if you have a roof over your head and some food in the fridge, and if you have a job and even a couple of friends...you're doin' alright. The truth is, most of us have much more than this and yet very few of us feel 'happy'.
   
     I see people everyday that make me glad I'm me. Also, there is joy in the little things, if you know where to look. Yesterday, on my way home from work, I saw two guys struggling to push a van uphill into a gas station. I asked if they needed a hand, and they said yes. The three of us tried, but weren't making much more progress than before. Just as we were about to stop pushing, three women joggers from the park across the street ran up and helped give it the extra shove it needed, and we all rolled it into place together. As soon as it was in front of the pumps, everyone went their separate ways, being thanked by the driver, but of course, wanting nothing in return. I can't tell you how good I felt after that. And it stuck with me. If you think you're different than your neighbor, you're wrong. If you think we aren't all connected, you're wrong. If you think you can't make yourself happy by helping someone else...you are wrong.


     You probably have more than enough already in your life to be happy. You probably know others that have much less. There are probably people in your life that you could help with a little effort. It would probably make you feel happier if you did.


   


                              "Don't worry, be happy."   Bobby McFerrin

Flies with Honey

     As a rule, I don't care for the 'people'. They are loud and obnoxious and usually in my way. My wife says that I need to be nice to the people, but this is much harder than it seems. Maybe it was my upbringing, maybe my environment, either way, it is not in my nature to be tolerant or understanding.

   When I was in fourth grade, I was beaten up by a fifth grader who then stole my jacket. I ran home and told my grandfather, whom I wholly believed would run out into the world to exact justice from all parties involved. Instead, after telling him what transpired, he stood there looking at me with an expression that said, 

   "Whaddya want kid? You expect me to follow you around and make sure nothing happens to ya?" After explaining to me that 'shit happens' and the world is a cold and dark place, he told me that if I didn't like being beaten up and having my stuff took, I should take steps to preparing myself so it wouldn't happen again. Also that my grandmother who gave me the jacket would probably be mad at me for losing it.
   "But I...he...nevermind."

     That was it. That was all it took. I understood what he was telling me and I never ran home crying again. (I would wait till I was done crying, and then go home.) 
   But it made an impression on me. Don't be a fucken pussy. Learn to take care of yourself or get used to being stepped on, either way, I understood, the buck stops here. I was responsible for myself and what happened to me. I and I alone. Two things have taught me this is true. The two greatest teachers a man can have, my grandfather and the United States Navy. The Navy doesn't give a shit who's fault something is; they don't want to hear your fucken excuse. Did I tell you to do it? Then it's your responsibility. 
   And so this is the philosophy that got me through. This was how I navigated the world. And to its credit, it got me through some pretty tough times. I was prepared for you to be an asshole. I knew you would disappoint. And if you wronged me, I wouldn't be sending my grandfather after you, you were gonna hear from me. And so it went. And my anger grew with every passing day, seeing my expectations manifest in people's rude behavior.


     But that's not what my grandfather was trying to tell me. Once again, I had misconstrued his meaning and taken it in with childish ears. 

     There is an Islamic proverb that says, 'Tie your donkey to a sturdy post, and then go about your business.' In other words, be prepared. Don't rely on faith that you will be alright, take steps to make sure, and then go with God.


     Negativity begets negativity. I was approaching with anger and in turn, being met with it. I am not an enlightened person. As much as I try, I can't seem to grasp the, 'you catch more flies with honey' mentality. I prefer the 'you smash more teeth with fists' approach. But it has gotten me nowhere. 
   So recently, as an experiment, I have given this new model a try. And you know what? It works. My wife is the smartest person I know. (Please don't tell her I said that, she's hard enough to live with as it is.) But if I simply adjust my own attitude, I find that my experience with people is greatly improved. This really pisses me off. Sorry. It's a long road ahead.