October marks the first significant dropoff in my attempts to blog every day this year. I'll be completely honest with you guys; I'll be damned if I know why. Something about where I am and what I'm doing hasn't put me much in a writing frame of mind.
And it's not that there aren't things to talk about. The rest of 2013 has some significant events remaining, including three major trips with family and friends. Ideas are whirling about my ever-uncertain future without plans of any kind solidifying. There is information to be gathered, knowledge to be absorbed, and a wide range of options to be considered.
The future is vast and shadowy. Terrifying and promising all at once, when certainties fall away. Once, not too long ago, I thought I had my future on lock. I had a wife, a business, a plan. Sometimes I feel like I put these strictures upon myself just to narrow the field, to make things solid so that I knew what to do next.
But things fall apart, and once more I'm standing, staring into the black, wondering where I'll put my feet next. Tomorrow, it'll be work. Next week, it'll be Paris. Next month, it'll be Amsterdam.
Next year, who knows?
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Saturday, October 19, 2013
On what I'm looking for.
So back in May, as I started taking those first feeble steps towards feeling ready to enter the dating world again, a certain The Animal gave me a list of questions to answer about what I'm looking for. An honest evaluation of what I want, what I need.
She also demanded I finish it by the end of the summer, and we can see how well that went. (cough)
Anyway. It's been on my mind lately, so now seems as good a time as any to fill it out. To be honest, I'm kind of curious as to what my answers are going to be. This is likely to be incomplete, and probably going to shift and tweak as time goes on. But it's a good snapshot of where I am now.
How does she inspire you?
She does the things I wish I did. When she sets her eyes on something, she goes for it, and I can either stand by and watch or dive in and follow suit. She reminds me that I'm capable, I'm impulsive, and the blocks I throw up in my mind are just that - in my head. She has the courage and drive to live her life, and in so doing, inspires me to live mine.
What's she made of?
Fire. She burns bright and clear with nothing to hide. People are drawn to her light and warmth - her passion is infectious, spreading to everything she touches. There is a hunger in her, an insatiable curiosity in everything around her. She is wise enough to be strong, smart enough to be quick, and crazy enough to be dangerously capricious. She is ardent; and be it in anger or love, she burns hot - not because she can, but because she must.
What does she see in her future?
Adventure. I get bored easily, and so does she. While she values a place to hunker down and recharge, she's not content to remain there day after day, year after year. She'd rather study all aspects of a field of work than single-mindedly climb a corporate ladder. Money, to her, is a tool - valuable to gather and hold for the experiences it can afford rather than a number to be shored up at the cost of missing out.
What's her relationship with her family?
Strong. Family is the first chance you get to love people in spite of, and sometimes because of, their flaws. I consider myself very close to my family and I miss my parents every day; there's a depth of emotion and forgiveness that I'm comfortable with as a result, and I'd like to know that she can understand and appreciate that.
Does she want children? Do you want children?
She does. Perhaps not right away; she must acknowledge the amount of planning and sacrifice that goes into raising a child, and be prepared to make that choice. I may be close to that point, but I'm not there quite yet.
And when the time comes, I want it to be a mutual decision, with the knowledge and confidence in each other that we're both in it with everything we've got. My parents did everything they could for my brothers and I, and I want to offer my children the same level of devotion.
How does she challenge you?
She forces me to be true. Rare is the time when I don't dodge and weave, hiding this or that from this person or that person because this piece of information might hurt them, or that bit might change the way they think of me. She sees through my web of misdirects and decoys and calls me out when I'm trying to hide something. She makes it okay to be truthful and clear with her, and more importantly, with myself. No matter how uncomfortable that makes me feel.
How does she treat you?
Like a partner. I can trust her to have my back no matter what comes our way, and she feels the same. She takes the lead when I fall back, and she recognizes when I can handle something she can't. We have faith in each other because we've seen each other not at our best, but at our worst. She is kind to me when I am weak, forceful with me when I am hesitant, appreciative of me when I am good, and honest with me when I'm being a dick.
What does she live for?
First and foremost, herself. She knows that to water the garden, one must tend to the well. She knows herself, what she is capable of, what she wants out of life, and she does her best not to compromise any of that for anyone.
Beyond that, she lives for experience. She is hungry for adventure; she appreciates the value of laughter and fun and all the wonder the world has to offer, big and small. She lives for memories and stories, hers, ours, and others'. She lives for the simple joy food and drink can afford, the quiet moment in a cafe, the people walking by in a city street, the sunset over a mountain range or an ocean.
How do you want to be in a relationship?
Honest and free. I don't have to worry about what I can and can't tell her, what I can or can't do for fear of repercussions. Too much of my life has been caged in lies and secrets, and I want at least one place in my life I can be safe.
How does she manage her emotions?
She communicates. She's not afraid to tell me what's on her mind as it happens. And even if there isn't anything I can do about it at the moment, she lets me know how she's feeling and her best ideas as to why. She offers clarity of herself in boundaries and feelings. If she wants to talk about what's happening, she knows I'm ready of ear and mouth. And if she doesn't, she knows I'm here with a shoulder or a pair of arms.
Who does she want to be?
Anything and everything she can.
She also demanded I finish it by the end of the summer, and we can see how well that went. (cough)
Anyway. It's been on my mind lately, so now seems as good a time as any to fill it out. To be honest, I'm kind of curious as to what my answers are going to be. This is likely to be incomplete, and probably going to shift and tweak as time goes on. But it's a good snapshot of where I am now.
How does she inspire you?
She does the things I wish I did. When she sets her eyes on something, she goes for it, and I can either stand by and watch or dive in and follow suit. She reminds me that I'm capable, I'm impulsive, and the blocks I throw up in my mind are just that - in my head. She has the courage and drive to live her life, and in so doing, inspires me to live mine.
What's she made of?
Fire. She burns bright and clear with nothing to hide. People are drawn to her light and warmth - her passion is infectious, spreading to everything she touches. There is a hunger in her, an insatiable curiosity in everything around her. She is wise enough to be strong, smart enough to be quick, and crazy enough to be dangerously capricious. She is ardent; and be it in anger or love, she burns hot - not because she can, but because she must.
What does she see in her future?
Adventure. I get bored easily, and so does she. While she values a place to hunker down and recharge, she's not content to remain there day after day, year after year. She'd rather study all aspects of a field of work than single-mindedly climb a corporate ladder. Money, to her, is a tool - valuable to gather and hold for the experiences it can afford rather than a number to be shored up at the cost of missing out.
What's her relationship with her family?
Strong. Family is the first chance you get to love people in spite of, and sometimes because of, their flaws. I consider myself very close to my family and I miss my parents every day; there's a depth of emotion and forgiveness that I'm comfortable with as a result, and I'd like to know that she can understand and appreciate that.
Does she want children? Do you want children?
She does. Perhaps not right away; she must acknowledge the amount of planning and sacrifice that goes into raising a child, and be prepared to make that choice. I may be close to that point, but I'm not there quite yet.
And when the time comes, I want it to be a mutual decision, with the knowledge and confidence in each other that we're both in it with everything we've got. My parents did everything they could for my brothers and I, and I want to offer my children the same level of devotion.
How does she challenge you?
She forces me to be true. Rare is the time when I don't dodge and weave, hiding this or that from this person or that person because this piece of information might hurt them, or that bit might change the way they think of me. She sees through my web of misdirects and decoys and calls me out when I'm trying to hide something. She makes it okay to be truthful and clear with her, and more importantly, with myself. No matter how uncomfortable that makes me feel.
How does she treat you?
Like a partner. I can trust her to have my back no matter what comes our way, and she feels the same. She takes the lead when I fall back, and she recognizes when I can handle something she can't. We have faith in each other because we've seen each other not at our best, but at our worst. She is kind to me when I am weak, forceful with me when I am hesitant, appreciative of me when I am good, and honest with me when I'm being a dick.
What does she live for?
First and foremost, herself. She knows that to water the garden, one must tend to the well. She knows herself, what she is capable of, what she wants out of life, and she does her best not to compromise any of that for anyone.
Beyond that, she lives for experience. She is hungry for adventure; she appreciates the value of laughter and fun and all the wonder the world has to offer, big and small. She lives for memories and stories, hers, ours, and others'. She lives for the simple joy food and drink can afford, the quiet moment in a cafe, the people walking by in a city street, the sunset over a mountain range or an ocean.
How do you want to be in a relationship?
Honest and free. I don't have to worry about what I can and can't tell her, what I can or can't do for fear of repercussions. Too much of my life has been caged in lies and secrets, and I want at least one place in my life I can be safe.
How does she manage her emotions?
She communicates. She's not afraid to tell me what's on her mind as it happens. And even if there isn't anything I can do about it at the moment, she lets me know how she's feeling and her best ideas as to why. She offers clarity of herself in boundaries and feelings. If she wants to talk about what's happening, she knows I'm ready of ear and mouth. And if she doesn't, she knows I'm here with a shoulder or a pair of arms.
Who does she want to be?
Anything and everything she can.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
On playing pool.
They say once you learn something, you never really forget it.
They say when you stop doing something on a regular basis, your skill with it rapidly declines.
They're right, you know. Both camps.
Several years ago, I played pool a lot. I mean, a lot. I'd like to think I was fairly good at it. But ever since I've left New York, there just hasn't been a place for me to play, to keep my skills sharp.
Sure, I played a game here and there in the intervening years. My muscles remembered what it was like; they could replicate shots, my eyes kind of knew what to look for, what angles to hit. But whether it was upstairs in the Grape Room or at a little joint on the strip in Vegas, I never could quite get back in the groove.
Yesterday I hung out with my old pool team. I watched players I knew well and players I didn't know at all get down on shot after shot like I used to, take breaths like I used to, line up and bank and coach and railslide and backspin and plan like I used to.
Tonight I'm in Pericles' basement. Tonight I'm accessing that dusty corner of my brain that really remembers this shit, remembers that you have to visualize the angle and follow the lines, that remembers what spin gives you what leave. And I'm realizing that I haven't been using this all the times I've played in the last couple of years. I've been playing half-cocked, playing without a full hand.
I don't really know what I'm saying, I guess. I just cleaned the table for both sides with two missed shots, and it was easy. I could map things out, measure and leave shot after shot. All I had to do was dig out the old data on how.
It's in there, you know. The things you used to do. Play an instrument, cook a dish, fix a radiator, balance a checkbook, care about another person. You just have to reach back into that cavernous well in your head and haul it back into the light.
They say when you stop doing something on a regular basis, your skill with it rapidly declines.
They're right, you know. Both camps.
Several years ago, I played pool a lot. I mean, a lot. I'd like to think I was fairly good at it. But ever since I've left New York, there just hasn't been a place for me to play, to keep my skills sharp.
Sure, I played a game here and there in the intervening years. My muscles remembered what it was like; they could replicate shots, my eyes kind of knew what to look for, what angles to hit. But whether it was upstairs in the Grape Room or at a little joint on the strip in Vegas, I never could quite get back in the groove.
Yesterday I hung out with my old pool team. I watched players I knew well and players I didn't know at all get down on shot after shot like I used to, take breaths like I used to, line up and bank and coach and railslide and backspin and plan like I used to.
Tonight I'm in Pericles' basement. Tonight I'm accessing that dusty corner of my brain that really remembers this shit, remembers that you have to visualize the angle and follow the lines, that remembers what spin gives you what leave. And I'm realizing that I haven't been using this all the times I've played in the last couple of years. I've been playing half-cocked, playing without a full hand.
I don't really know what I'm saying, I guess. I just cleaned the table for both sides with two missed shots, and it was easy. I could map things out, measure and leave shot after shot. All I had to do was dig out the old data on how.
It's in there, you know. The things you used to do. Play an instrument, cook a dish, fix a radiator, balance a checkbook, care about another person. You just have to reach back into that cavernous well in your head and haul it back into the light.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
On Zevran.
I love my cat
because
when he sits outside the shower waiting for me
when he climbs on my shoulders to chew on my hair
when he plays fetch with wild-eyed, manic abandon
when he clambers under the blanket to nestle in the crook of my arm
when he chases his tail in a patch of sunlight
No matter how much I want to
I never, ever know
I never will know
what's going through that little head of his.
But he trusts me.
because
when he sits outside the shower waiting for me
when he climbs on my shoulders to chew on my hair
when he plays fetch with wild-eyed, manic abandon
when he clambers under the blanket to nestle in the crook of my arm
when he chases his tail in a patch of sunlight
No matter how much I want to
I never, ever know
I never will know
what's going through that little head of his.
But he trusts me.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
On a note to a woman I miss.
When you left, I didn't have the tools to say goodbye. I wasn't ready.
I know this because I have them now, lying next to the bookshelf with the card games and the cookbooks. I know where they are when I need them because I've had to use them so many times since you've left.
You were worried about me. You had good cause to worry. We didn't know how I'd turn out. But I grew up strong, like you. I grew up soft, like you. I wake up in the mornings wondering what the day will bring, wondering what I'll eat, wondering who I'll talk to. And I am glad for it. All of it. Like you.
I can miss you. I can wish you were here to see me now, to see the son you raised. But it will never change the carvings on that little stone in Mahwah, never alter that date etched in the earth.
I wish you could see where I am. I wish you could meet the people I'm with. It's a good place; they are good people. But all I can do is remember that I am your child, your baby boy, and assume that you are at peace.
I know this because I have them now, lying next to the bookshelf with the card games and the cookbooks. I know where they are when I need them because I've had to use them so many times since you've left.
You were worried about me. You had good cause to worry. We didn't know how I'd turn out. But I grew up strong, like you. I grew up soft, like you. I wake up in the mornings wondering what the day will bring, wondering what I'll eat, wondering who I'll talk to. And I am glad for it. All of it. Like you.
I can miss you. I can wish you were here to see me now, to see the son you raised. But it will never change the carvings on that little stone in Mahwah, never alter that date etched in the earth.
I wish you could see where I am. I wish you could meet the people I'm with. It's a good place; they are good people. But all I can do is remember that I am your child, your baby boy, and assume that you are at peace.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
On pop music today.
So I caught the video to Britney Spears' 'Work Bitch' this morning. Not really sure why, but I kind of wish I hadn't. Could have spent that time talking to someone I actually like talking to.
Is this what pop music's turned into these days? Lyrics that sound like they've been shit out of a slant rhyme generator, two melodies with little, if any variation? Has sexy turned into slow-mo, bedazzled bikinis, hip thrusts, and a hint of BDSM to seem edgy? Have we just given up on the proper use of a comma?
I feel like we've gotten significantly less subtle. To celebrate this, I'm just going to walk around all day shouting how I feel at whoever crosses my path.
HEY
HEY I'M HUNGRY
Is this what pop music's turned into these days? Lyrics that sound like they've been shit out of a slant rhyme generator, two melodies with little, if any variation? Has sexy turned into slow-mo, bedazzled bikinis, hip thrusts, and a hint of BDSM to seem edgy? Have we just given up on the proper use of a comma?
I feel like we've gotten significantly less subtle. To celebrate this, I'm just going to walk around all day shouting how I feel at whoever crosses my path.
HEY
HEY I'M HUNGRY
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