1 Red Balloon Floating Away

It’s not too late but it feels like it. I had a disturbing dream and woke up burning from head to toe. I was consumed by this bitter angry feeling and I lay there for a long time thinking about it. I wanted to go back to sleep and dream something else to replace it but I got up instead and moved around my apartment in the dark trying to shake the feeling or reconcile it or –something.

I had to go to the grocery after work and saw all of the Valentine’s offerings. I used to hate the holiday and I called it a ‘pink St. Patrick’s Day’ because it didn’t seem to me to have any meaning at all. It’s more bloated expectations for a holiday that, in fact, doesn’t really exist.

Over the past several years I came to see it differently. I came to look forward to it and even relish it in a way.

This year is admittedly a little different for me but, strangely enough, the feeling didn’t change. Today at the grocery I didn’t turn up my nose at the flowers and balloons. Instead I thought about all of those people who might take a break from the ordinary and show love to one another in a special and thoughtful way.

To tell you the truth- I was happy to make it through the holidays this year. Starting with Halloween-Thanksgiving- Christmas- New Years- and finally Valentine’s. I kept telling myself that next year would be better no matter what if I could just squeak through this time.

I haven’t made it yet, but it’s almost over.

I hate hearing people say things like this. I hate thinking that things have gotten so bad that you would wish away the winter. All the best holidays fall pretty close together at the end of the year and I’ve always loved it.

So I know this looks like two different statements. One sounds like Valentine’s is magical and delicious and the other sounds like I simply want it blow away on a cold wind and be gone, but that’s the sneaky truth of life isn’t it? Sometimes you don’t fall into a single category. Sometimes you realize how people can change you for the better and then again you need to breeze on past the pain of old memories and try your best to find some warm sunlight to sit in.

I watched a Valentine’s balloon float away this afternoon. It soared up above the buildings downtown and took off on its own to parts unknown. It was a red heart with a simple message, ‘Happy Valentine’s’ and it sailed up without fear of rejection and filled with a promise of the unknown. I sat there and watched it take off into the cold blue sky and I felt a little better. In a cheesy and slightly corny sense, I felt like things were going to be alright.

Here we all are, sitting on the edge of a new year and we still have spring and summer and autumn to go before the holidays start again. I need to start floating up into that big beautiful blue and find the promise of the unknown. I found and artist who promised to do my cover art for me. I’m going to be a published author by this time next year. There’s something else happening in the next couple of months that might change things for the better too. There are some blessings up there and I just need to float toward them. I need to let go and get away from gravity for a change.

With all the sincerity I can muster—I hope this year is better for you too. I hope you find the peace that keeps slipping out of your grasp, I hope you find faith in people who probably don’t deserve it, I hope you don’t have to say the words, “I’m done” because you have the tiniest inkling things will change for the better. I hope this is one of those Valentine’s you look back on with fondness and remember that not every year is roses and chocolates and sometimes you get to be excited about tomorrow and tomorrow.

If you’re reading this- Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t forget to show some bit of love to someone who needs it. Remember that we spend most of our lives in “quiet desperation” and today is your chance to take a break from that and be flowery and sweet smelling.

Now that I think about it- it’s a pretty good resolution to make for this year- love the best way you can, don’t quit, have faith, bring joy at every turn.

Next year I’ll let you know how successful I was. In the meantime have a great day and let’s be a little sappy for just one day. It feels good.

For Angie’s Birthday

I have a friend, a man I’ve known for a long time, and I always used to say that he’s the dumbest smart person I know.

Not true.

I think I’m that person. In fact I’m convinced of it. Not so much the smart part but definitely the dumbest part. I’m listening to Harry Connick Jr. sing ‘If I Only Had a Brain’ and I’m wondering to myself if that isn’t me.

I made a new friend not too long ago and this person writes to me every once in a while and tells me that my pain and even my mistakes are the things that make my writing worth reading. That came out wrong. I don’t think that was the intent of the message but, in a way, it’s what I heard.

In a sense, it’s why we watch reality TV. I myself do not watch reality TV but- in the larger sense of the word “we” the point is still the same.

I accidentally typed TB instead of TV and I thought of reality tuberculosis. I might watch that.

Chet Baker is the second most talented trumpet player who has ever lived. Look him up. He’s more raw and less polished than Miles Davis but he sings occasionally and that’s something Miles never attempted. Chet was a lifelong drug addict and at one point in his life he was attacked (most likely from a drug deal gone south) and his front teeth were knocked out. He lost his embouchure. He had to re-learn how to blow a trumpet and make it sound right.

He was a lazy, self involved, drug addict and he kept coming back again and again even stronger than he had the previous time.

Why?

Why do some people push forward and others stand very still?

No. I don’t another, more interesting question. I don’t know the answer to that conundrum any more than I know why some people are famous for no reason while other, more talented people, linger in the dark limbo of obscurity.

I think I’m circling a bigger question or maybe even a bigger answer but I guess I’m not evolved enough to reach out and grab it yet.

I’ve missed writing. I’ve been doing it in my head so much lately that I think it spilled out and this is the top 1,000^th that made it over the edge of my overactive mind.

What’s worse than writing in your head is hearing a line someone else has written and thinking to yourself that you may never write that well.

I’m listening to Alicia Keys singing ‘Empire State of Mind’ and I think to myself that I too have a pocket full of dreams, but that’s all it is. My sister, Angie, and I talked about this. We dream all the time but we don’t seem to be able to put our finger on the solution- the end game- the last little tasty bit that makes the dream real…

I’m stopping by these woods to say something about my sister Angie.

Today is her birthday and you should know her as I do. She is a:

Relentless

Beautiful

Jovial

Utterly diplomatic

Friend

Family

Confidant

Who knows more about what’s wrong with me than, perhaps, anyone else- because we share the same faults.

I love you Ang. You’ve always been my hero. You were the first cool person I’ve known and I still think about your bouncy ball collection with the weird football shaped ones that made no sense and the orange moon buggy and the tiny red and silver wind up robot and the gum wrapper chain and the hewn out book and the…

I hope, no matter what happens, I always crave the quirky (slightly flaky) deliciousness you’ve accidentally been teaching me all my life.

Happy Birthday.

Maybe that’s what I wanted to write.

Today is Angie’s birthday and she needs to be recognized. I didn’t see that when I sat down, but now I’m listening to Jon Allen ‘Going Home’ and I’m thinking of my super cool sister and I’m wondering what she’s doing right now.

Something odd- I hope.

Something creative.

Something dreamy and fine and worthwhile.

 

I knew someone once who didn’t like my dreamy nature. Didn’t want to talk about the dreams. Someone far too pragmatic to understand the power of simply letting go and allowing the luxury of imagination.

I might be a resident of the imagi-nation. Angie is. There are times when we sit in the magic window and I can see her citizenship showing. She dreams, imagines, wonders, wanders- and she’s happy there.

Me too Ang. Me too.

The ones that will love you all the way through to the end will see it and love it and at least stand on the sidelines and cheer you on. That’s one of the reasons I love Brian Lavelle so very much. Why he’s my brother and my friend and my family. He loves me for the things I’m not. He sees my ugliness and he laughs at it and hugs me right on through it.

Let’s don’t give up. What do you say? Let’s publish books and open little peculiarity shops and move to far away cities and have adventures and listen to our crappy music and look- and see the world around us in a way that others cannot. Let’s find pennies on the ground when others pass them by.

You’ve got yourself a good man. He has an actual sense of humor. He’s the pink flamingo in the front yard goof that you needed. What a treasure. What an excellent birthday gift. A terribly smart man who knows you and sees it and digs it. And he does dig it by the way.

So here I am at the back side of this and I find that I have nothing else to say. Funny because I rarely have nothing else to say. I’m the one who gets into discussions about whether or not we actually landed on the moon or the merits of the term ‘global warming’ or the newer and more accommodating term ‘climate change’.

I’ve changed a lot over the last several months. Not in the good ways that make good things happen but in the small ways. I keep my cool more now and I think of the impact of my words and I’m desperately trying to hang on to what fragment of dreaminess I have left. I keep imagining a small apartment in Brooklyn and a small window to look out and watch the traffic below. That’s my tea shop where I sell the stuff I work hard on. My “island of misfit toys’ where things turn out better than you think they ever could.

So, happy birthday sis. I know this is has to be the most morose and maudlin birthday note you’ve ever received but somewhere in the world- somewhere far away from here- there’s a person like us and they’re reading this and they are encouraged by our odd vista of the world around us.

Knowing that makes the road smooth out in front of us and it clears the skies for more ideas to pop up. More ‘what ifs’.

And that’s pretty cool.

Love you Ang-

The Power of a Shower

“Cleanliness is next to managerliness.” At least that’s what SpongeBob says.

You know, when it’s cold outside you have to gear up mentally before you just go hopping into the shower. In addition to that- it’s easier to cleanse in the evening than in the morning when you’re extra warm and cozy.

Stay with me here because I might be on to something.

I might be trying to tell you that I just went through the painful mental preparation it takes to scour—only to find…

Wait for it….

No hot water!

I read an article today about a young girl who had been trying to get published for years and had been rejected time and again. She decided to publish herself over the internet and had done so several times. The books have become so popular that she earned over a million dollars on her own. The largest publishing houses in the world began scrambling for her and now her net worth is, to put it mildly, growing.

She said she didn’t like talking about the money or the fame, but would rather just talk about writing. I found that interesting considering the fact that it shouldn’t be about the money in the first place. If I could make enough money to survive and save a little and be comfortable but I had the chance to write for the rest of my life then I’d consider myself successful.

I did think about the money though.

What?

You know you would have thought about the money at least a little.

But here’s the funny thing. The only reason I’d move from this apartment before my son graduates from college is because of the heat in the summer and the cold water situation in the winter. I don’t mind the neighborhood, I don’t mind the long walk upstairs and down. If the machines worked I wouldn’t even care about the hauling of laundry.

But when you get yourself ready for a hot shower and you reach in to feel the icy sting of icy water and you just stand there for a long moment thinking about whether or not you could survive the bitter sting long enough to get clean… well I’m just saying I thought about the money a little bit.

I’ve whined and moaned and even lost things precious to me all because of this ridiculous fear about my writing so I’m not going to tell you the article was a revelation and now I’m going to zip right out and make my fortune, but I will tell you that it got me to thinking and I can’t seem to stop thinking.

I need to make a few changes in my personal life (which, as we all know is almost impossible) but other than that I didn’t feel so very far away from the million dollar girl who gets to write for the rest of her life and doesn’t have to rely on the deliciousness of ramen any more.

It’s a good story.

I just need to make it mine.

In other news:

I ordered two eggs sunny side up today and that’s something I’ve never done before. You should have seen them. They were absolutely perfect. They looked like a picture of the way eggs ought to be. I think I’m going to start ordering them that way from now on. Why didn’t I try this before?

Will we ever get to a point in our lives when we no longer say those words? Frankly, I don’t think I ever will.

What if I vanity publish my book and it does marvelously? Will I sit down on a curb somewhere with my head in my hands and ask myself the same question? Why didn’t I try this before?

It isn’t as though I haven’t been pushed and prodded and cajoled and bribed and threatened and some other sixth thing.

I’m not going to talk about that any more right now. I was betrayed by a friend today and it stings a little and the last thing I need this late in the evening is to depress myself about writing. Actually, the last thing I needed was –no hot water- and then, right behind that, depression over writing.

 

So here we are at the end of another episode and I feel compelled to say a few words to tie it all together. Should I rob our dear friend Larry C. Grossman and say Live Life Large? I could. Should I say “Climb Every Mountain”? That works too. Should I mention, again, the tireless dedication of my nephew Nathan who never gives up on his dreams? That might be the best of all. Should I pay homage to my dear friend and love, Chrystal, who is the only person who ever cried while describing my “talent” as a writer while lamenting the fact that I’ve really done nothing at all to make my dream happen? That one might be too painful to mention here.

No, I think I’ll fall back to a standby and say that God gives us gifts and we can choose to use them or bury them. I only hope I live long enough to overcome my own nonsense and hit the ‘send’ button one of these days.

Don’t give up on me yet and I won’t give up on you either.

After all, there could be a hot shower in it for me.

The Last of the Holidays

On an unrelated note.

And I say unrelated because this next bit couldn’t possibly be related to anything else. It’s at the core of why I love living in Midtown. You can’t find these things in the suburbs.

I went down to the dungeon to start my laundry and I noticed my neighbor and another girl sitting in the grass in the courtyard. As I came back by I stopped and spoke. They were seated in front of a dinner plate on which rested a ‘Chock Ful ‘O Nuts’ coffee can and a small brass bell and some ribbon and some fresh sage and a few dried roses.

Inside the coffee can – the remains of a small bird. Apparently the neighbor’s cat had killed the bird and she felt bad about it and decided to cremate the poor thing. The process hadn’t been going well and the inside of the can was a dark and charred place. I had an idea and told her I’d be back in a moment.

After confirming we all agreed that none of what was going on was safe or appropriate I handed over a small can of Sterno. We opened it and spooned out a bit into the can and then lit it with a dried leaf that happened to blow by at just the right time. Once you light Sterno you can’t put it out. The bird had to succumb. It was a quiet ceremony. The bell rang periodically for reasons I’m still not sure of. Perhaps in the name of pomp and circumstance. Or perhaps it was pomp as a result of an unfortunate circumstance. Nevertheless, it was a slightly momentous occasion and I got to share in it.

When was the last time you could say such a thing? Perhaps never? Well, for a person who doesn’t care to have animals living in his house, I always seem to get involved in the rescuing, caring or disposing of little creatures. Odd isn’t it?

There were two people stuck in the laundry room. Apparently they were visiting with family and some ugliness broke out. They left with no place to go so they found themselves stuck in the basement laundry room. I offered to bring them a Coke when I came back to finish my laundry. Is every day like this and I just don’t realize it because I’m normally at work?

I need to get out of here in a little while. I would like to do some writing and the sun is so bright and inviting. I didn’t leave the house at all yesterday and I might be in danger of turning into a hermit. A friend of mine called and offered to clean up my resume for me. I need it. I need some professional help. That sounded a lot like an admission didn’t it? Well I meant help with a resume but you could probably make the case that I could use some professional help of another kind.

Andrea sent me a text today. She’s hundreds of miles away from here in a new town and they were looking for a house. They found one. I had been praying for them and now I get to share, if only a little, in that joy. A nice big house in a brand new town where people don’t cremate birds or get stuck in laundry rooms.

Just kidding. I hope there are some quirky people there too. You need the flaky people so you can remember to be a little odd every once in a while. Keeps you young. Keeps the old blood pumping.

The dryer, as I stated previously, does not work. So I have to hang or drape clothing all over my home to let it finish. It’s annoying but you should smell my apartment. Absolutely delightful. It’s cold today. Not even 40 degrees and the air in my little domicile is fresh and clean and I can’t stop breathing it in. These are the little things in life and you have to stop and take a good look at them or you could miss them. Be daring and try it some time. Instead of drying your clothes- run them for a few minutes and then take them out and hang them in your bedroom. I bet you sleep better that night. Try it. Tell me I’m wrong. I’m challenging you.

Ok. I just went down to swap laundry and bring up the last before the end and when I got to the bottom of the stairs near the laundry door I couldn’t get by. There must have been 10 young people standing in the hall and in the laundry room. A fight had broken out. I don’t know why but I scared them off and they scattered like roaches. The two people I met earlier were in the room, she was sitting on the floor with a red splotch on her face and he was pacing and huffing and cussing and saying he was going to call the police. None of it made sense to me because I hadn’t been there for any of it. I felt odd though because I had two cans of Coke and some Christmas candy in my hands. I set it down on the table but then I didn’t say another word. I couldn’t think of a word to say. They’ve made a mess of their lives. I picked up on that earlier but now it’s clear. They’ve made a mess.

Sad to say, but it gave me hope. I don’t live the gross ‘Jerry Springer’ life and no matter how weird things get I can at least know that I have a few things right. You might want to take a minute and think about that time in your life when things were going bad. Really bad. You might even say things were funky. Now ask yourself how things are now. If they’re better then breathe a sigh of relief and thank God you haven’t been punched in the face by a family member. It’s a heck of a way to start a new year.

I hope they don’t bleed on my clean clothes.

I think I’m going to stop for a while and make myself some lunch. Glad they didn’t take my appetite.

I waited too late to get out. It was cold earlier but the sun was higher and I should have taken advantage of it. My fingers are stiff from the frigid air but I’m not ready to stop just yet. The patio at Starbucks on Union is deserted. I can’t blame anyone for their absence. I was just inside and the smell and the warmth and the jazz trumpet are compelling. There is, however, one brave soul out here with me. She looks to be in her early 60’s and she’s engulfed in a large coat with a massive fur banded hood. She’s wearing the hood so her wrinkled face is poking out of it and she’s smoking a cigarette attached to a long thin black plastic filter. Very Cruella Deville if you ask me. She even has a wonderfully hideous mole just touching her lower lip on the right hand side. I imagine her as the fourth grade teacher everyone hated and feared. Perhaps she’s the one who gives out those creepy popcorn balls at Halloween.

My landlord just called asking me to work for him and, sad to say, the need for money has to take first place over most things nowadays- so I might be leaving soon. I guess I don’t mind much. The hot chocolate is chalky (as expected) and the wind is biting through my clothes. There isn’t enough foot traffic out here to occupy my mind and my couch is starting to sound pretty inviting. I don’t normally do this but I might turn on the heater this afternoon.

I’m starting to wish I had Cruella’s furry critter wrapped around my face.

I just re-read that last sentence and it didn’t sound right. I should change it but I’m not going to. Every time I look over at it I start laughing again. For the record I was talking about the weird jacket.

I had to work for a while but I’m at home now. I took my mother’s advice and ate leftover spaghetti. I tried to take a bath to warm up but…

Before I finish this let me set it up. My sister, Phyl, and I were talking about this once several years ago and I told her I sometimes take baths in the winter because there isn’t a better way to warm up. She said she doesn’t like them because she lights the candles and has her book and something to drink and then she spills the drink on her book and in a panic she slings it and hits the candle (which falls into the tub and extinguishes while depositing wax along the way) and then the phone rings and on and on until she throws her hands up in disgust and quits.

So I decided to take a bath tonight to knock off the chill and I filled the tub with water and I got a large glass of tea and put the towel just so for easy access and I brought the laptop in and set it up on a stool and I brought in the speakers so I could hear and I cranked up a suspense movie and I settled in to soak and “raise my core temperature Jerry”. BUT the water wasn’t warm enough so I drained half of it out and tried to refill it only to find out that the radiators had kicked on and used up all the hot water so now I was sitting in lukewarm/ cool water. I tried to stay but it got worse by the second and when I finally gave up and stood up I was colder than when I started.

I hope you’re reading this Phyl. It reminds me of the time we were lying on the beach complaining about tourists feeding the seagulls because it makes them poop and then one of them pooped right on the side of your face and we both just sat there staring at one another in stunned silence. Only this time was the one standing, shivering in half-frozen silence.

Lucky for me I was alone. I’d hate to put anyone else through that unattractive bit of drama.

The night is waning now.

I have to work tomorrow.

Drudgery ensues.

A life more ordinary.

Mundane minutia.

Sorry I can’t think of another sentence fragment just now.

It’s 34 degrees currently and the temp is dropping to 25 before daybreak. You won’t catch me complaining though. I’ll take it ten times out of ten over the mind-bending heat of August.

To me, this feels like the last fleeting moments of my holidays. From Halloween to New Year’s and this is the last countdown. 10,9,8… Did I remember to enjoy myself? Did I soak it all in? 7,6,5,4… Did I make worthy memories? Was I anything like the person I want to be? 3,2… Will I make better decisions? Will I be less selfish? Will I love differently? Will I be open to God’s leading? 1————–

I sure hope so.

 

If- a Friend’s Blessing

I never do this, but I’m breaking precedent. I received this from a friend and without permission I’m posting it here. I removed all of the names because names don’t really matter when you simply want to tell the truth.

Read this and please, for your own sake, slow down and read the poem.

Read it twice.

My favorite line is this:

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

Find your favorite line and share with me. I’ve been stuck thinking the fleeting promises of humans one to another but you might see something different and want to shine a light on it.

I’ve known this person for such a long time and we have been able to bless one another many times over the long years. I hope the faithfulness it took to write this will bless you in the same way it blessed me.

Enjoy.

 

I know it’s been a while, but just wanted to thank you for your recent Blog post.

It’s funny, no matter how often I witness it or experience it in my own life, I am always amazed at how God provides something needed (even if you don’t realize it), and at the time it’s needed.

For a variety of reasons I couldn’t sleep last night. So, as I sat in my own private stew of regret, repentance, and resolutions, I realized that the word “If” seemed to always find its way into most of my thoughts.

“If only I had done (or not done) that…”

“If I just would have had more time…”

“If only she (or he) would …”

“Well, if I had the resources/opportunities that they had, then I…”

Etc., Etc., Etc.,—you get the picture.

Thinking about “If” suddenly reminded me of a poem by Rudyard Kipling I had read many years ago, entitled, oddly enough, if. Although eloquently written, what really struck me was the theme. Directed at his son, it was his philosophy, or blueprint of sorts, for personal development and perseverance.

I quickly found it online and after several close readings, I realized the base principles conveyed in the poem reflected the same lessons taught in I Corinthians 13. This of course led me to reread those verses. Funny how your perspectives change when you reexamine something as a father and as a man who now has some real life experience behind them (both good and bad).

So, to make a long narrative even longer, I wanted to share some new insights (new to me anyway) with someone I felt could relate.

Spoiler alert! These are not some incredible, life-changing epiphanies. They are really more of a refinement, or clarification perhaps, of concepts I’m trying to grasp in my struggle to understand how God will use and develop me into a faithful servant.

I guess it may help if you could actually read the poem, or reread it, if you are already familiar with it:

If

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

 If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too:

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,

Or being hated don’t give way to hating,

And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;

If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same:.

If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,

And stoop and build’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings,

And never breathe a word about your loss:

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,

If all men count with you, but none too much:

If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,

Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

One of the first things I picked up on was that it’s a process that becomes a part of you as it’s learned, so it’s not taught as much as imparted.(Actually I’m going to stop now because I’m starting to feel a little preachy.)

However, what was really interesting to me is that as I was reading and thinking about this topic, I received an email notification that you had posted something new on your blog. As I read your post regarding Love, it really just amazed and touched me, particularly because you have really been in my thoughts recently.

So thanks for providing something that fueled what I feel God was putting on my heart and keep writing.

You never know the targets God will aim your words.

What Was the Lesson?

Schnitzel isn’t sausage?

Harrison and I call each other “schnitzel” when we’re teasing. We thought it was some kind of sausage because, well, it sounds sasage-ish.

My nephew Adam and his wife, Dom, came to stay with us over the holidays and she made schnitzel for us one night. It’s a flattened, breaded pork chop. It’s very similar to a southern style pork chop- the kind I grew up eating. Who knew?

I guess there’s a lesson to be learned from this. Never judge a schnitzel by the sausage-like quality of its name? Nah, I don’t think that’s it because I’m not sure I understand what I just wrote. How about- Don’t overcomplicate a schnitzel because it might just be a fried pork chop?

Hmm, I’ll have to give this some more thought and get back to you.

I wonder if people in other countries do the same thing. I always liked the French word ‘avec’, which means ‘with’ but it sounds like it should mean something more. Maybe there’s an Austrian out there somewhere thinking about the word tutti-frutti and wondering what in the world it is. Maybe they call their friends tutti-frutti every once in a while. Come to think of it, I might start calling my friends tutti-frutti every once in a while.

&

I have the biggest, ugliest pile of laundry to do today. I used to love doing laundry, but that was a long time ago in an address far far away. Having to haul clothes down to many flights of stairs and using machines that neither wash nor dry your clothes well is not the kind of thing one looks forward to. That’s life though isn’t it? I love my home but I have no way to cool it in the summer and doing laundry is a real drag.

I guess there’s a lesson to be learned from this. Sometimes doing laundry builds character? No, it usually puts me in a bad mood and people don’t normally grow while in a bad mood. How about- Laundry stinks but your attitude doesn’t have to? That’s better, I guess, but still pretty lame.

I have to admit, I miss the days when I could walk from one end of the house to the other and put my laundry in the machine. What if I never have that again? Interesting thing to think about. I’m not sure it matters that much to me. There are plenty of things to want in the world and I don’t think laundry access is at the top of my list. At least not yet.

&

For Christmas, Adam gave me a wonderful, terrible, terrific, horrible gift. Movies. Hundreds of them. I have a weakness for movies as it is and now he’s gone and given me so many that it would take months to make through all of them. I keep thinking about it. Oh the hours of mindless movie watching that lay ahead of me. The dialogue, the explosions, the witty banter, the dramatic climax, the musical crescendo. Ahh, the thought of it makes me tingle with the pleasure that can only come from wasting time in front of a television. When I was a child I told my mother I would see every movie that came out and she said, “No you won’t.” and I said, “Yes I will too.” and she said, “No. You won’t.” and I said “Yes. I will.” And then I didn’t say anything else because I wasn’t allowed to argue with my mother when I was young, but I quietly thought to myself, “I will.”

And then I grew up. Or at least I got taller. I’m not convinced I ever actually grew up and I’m sure there are more than a few people out there who know me well enough to know that, in point of fact, I have not grown up at all.

But I digress.

I grew taller. And then I tried (and have continued to try) to be true to my word and see every movie made. Ok, not every movie. I mean I didn’t see Broke Back Mountain and I didn’t see Black Swan and I didn’t see Death Race or Home Alone 3 but I have seen quite a few flicks over the years.

I’ve actually given this some thought and I believe, or at least I’d like to believe, that I love movies because I loved to be told stories. I love to tell stories and I love to sit and listen to a good story. I don’t have a lot of patience for boring stories, but I do love something intriguing and imaginative.

My son’s a good story teller. His stories have a nice flow to them and he uses good description and keeps the listener eager. Walt Disney was a great story teller. Alfred Hitchcock might very well be the greatest story teller of his generation. I could go on and on, but I’m not going to.

By the way, I just put my son in a category with Walt Disney and Alfred Hitchcock. I wonder if my opinion of him is biased? I’ll worry about that later.

In the meantime I think there’s a lesson to be learned from this? How about- Be careful what you say to your mother when you’re a kid because it might be a self fulfilling prophecy. If that’s the case then I wish I had told her I was going to end up with a job that paid all of my bills instead of just a few of them and I might have thrown in something about love and maybe even mentioned where I was going to live (air conditioning included). Boy I really missed the boat on that one didn’t I? I mean I ended up with a love of movies, which not only takes up a lot of valuable time but costs money and I could have been living in New York with a great writing job and air conditioning.

Maybe the lesson is not to set the course of your life before you know what in the world you’re talking about. No. That doesn’t work either because I still have no idea what in the world I’m talking about.

&

New Year’s Eve was one of those beautiful days when you wish you could be outside all day. I was outside all day. I was standing in the middle of a parking lot experiencing the joy of being poor and having to work several jobs to make the ends meet. A friend of mine was there and he laughed at me and told me how ridiculous I looked standing there directing traffic. No. it wasn’t a nice thing to do, but he’s one of those people who thinks things like that are funny.

I always get yelled at by people even though I’m only there to help them. Somehow they get confused and think I’m a rent-a-cop and since I have no authority they yell at me. Football fans are some of the worst humans on the planet if you ask me.

And YES I know you’re now offended by that last statement and you can’t believe I said it and you love the Cowboys or the Packers or the…whoever -and you are always nice and blah blah blah. I’m just here to tell you that I’ve spent a lot of time in football game parking lots and the only place you can go where the people are more hateful and rude is the parking lot of a Baptist church on Sunday morning.

Often times the person who yells at me will calm down and come back and find me and apologize to me. I always tell them not to worry about it and go and have fun at the game. I can tell they feel better for having said ‘sorry’ and I feel better knowing they aren’t all mindless robots programmed for evil.

On Saturday this man driving a carload full of family members started shouting and cussing at me and I said, “Are you insane!” and he said, “Am I serious? Of course I’m serious!!” and I said, “No, I didn’t ask you if you were serious I asked you if you were insane.” And then the rest of his family started yelling at him from the back seat of the car and he angrily did what he was supposed to do in the first place.

I thought the whole thing was funny because I’ve seen it so many times, but he didn’t look like was doing very well as he drove away. Just a side note here- his team lost the game.

Karma? Maybe.

People from Cincinnati are mostly friendly. That’s probably one of those things you didn’t know. When you get that many football fans together and practically none of them act like idiots then you have to imagine they represent a reasonable fraction of the whole. Having said that, people from Cincinnati are mostly friendly. It kind of makes me want to move Ohio. I’m just saying- it wouldn’t be the worst idea I’ve ever had.

There’s a lesson to be learned from this. Don’t go to football games. No, that’s not it because I already offended you once and now you’re upset all over again. How about- Football is just a game played with an oddly shaped ball and you should always remember that the men playing it are running around in what amounts to Capri pants and their job is to run back and forth and pretend like they did something incredible so the next time you go see a game live you should try hard to relax and have fun and maybe even be kind to the people working in the parking area. No, that’s not it either because it’s too long a sentence and you need something short if you’re going to remember it.

Did you ever play kickball or hide and seek or tag when you were a kid? Remember how much fun that was? Remember getting excited on warm summer nights when all the kids were outside and someone suggested a game of flashlight tag? We lose that somewhere along the way. Somewhere along the way we start thinking that games are important. Somewhere the money takes over. The game is drowned in adult sensibilities and it loses ever ounce of joy. Maybe you don’t agree with me, but you’d have a hard time making your argument if you had to do it from the parking lot of a football game. Try it some time and you’ll see what I mean.

By the way, the friend who made fun of me brought me a plate of food during the game. It more than made up for the laughter earlier in the day. Besides, I’m always humbled standing in that lot because it is humiliating in a way. All he did was point it out.

&

I don’t think there is an &. I think I’ve reached the edge of my creative process and now I have to think of a closing line to leave you with.

Did you read the post before this one? I keep getting messages saying things like, “You’re not alone.” Maybe I need to go back and read the post again.

I know I’m not alone.

I have many people who care about me, who love me, people I’ve known for years who think of me and include me in their lives. I’m lucky. You can even say I’m blessed.

I’m aware of my blessings and I don’t take them lightly. Sometimes you need blessings and you need to be able to see them. God has been remarkable in the way He’s taking care of me lately. I would be a fool and a wretch if I couldn’t see it.

So if I sounded like a sack of wet mice and you felt sorry for me then I apologize. I am alright and getting better by the minute. I love you for thinking about me and being concerned for me but don’t spend too much time worrying about me.

Now if you wanted to volunteer to slide over here and do my laundry—I think we could work something out. I make a pretty fantastic plate of spaghetti and would happily feed you if a bribe was necessary. Think about it and get back to me in the next half hour or less.

No rush.

 

 

Resolultion: Love

It’s so quiet in my home tonight. The holidays are officially over and today is the first day of a new year. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. About how much importance we put on a new year. We capitalize it and we celebrate it and we talk about it and…

Think about this though- it’s really just another day. I mean, if you weren’t focused yesterday why would assume you’ll be focused tomorrow? I lost my focus this past year. I’m one of those people who doesn’t care much for change and my life flipped upside down over the past several months. Almost every aspect of my existence changed from what it had been to something entirely different.

I’m a big believer in selfishness and the power it has to destroy the things you love. I’ve been realizing how complacent I became and how selfish that made me. God chose to rip away from me many of the things I had grown accustomed to and as a result I was faced with a big light shining into the dark places in my life. That might sound bitter and spiteful but it isn’t. There is growth in the painful moments of your life and you have to use those moments to allow God to strengthen you.

I don’t think I’ve done a good job of responding to that and if you read this blog it’s obvious that the act of writing was one of the things I lost. I didn’t want to lose it and I tried to get it back but nothing seemed to help. I have no idea what tomorrow might bring but I’m not ready to quit yet.

I think about posts I’ve written in the past and I wonder what they sounded like to you. Did I sound cocky? Did I sound like I had fabricated a wonderful life? Did I sound as though I’d reached some pinnacle of personal success? I hope not. I never meant to sound that way. After you lose things you love, things you come to count on- your perspective changes.

I’ve tried to stay away from people lately because I have a deep sadness I can’t shake off right now. That’s why I stopped writing for the most part. I have good friends who tell me to write about something else. Fake it. Get on with the business of life. They are all right of course but saying a thing and doing a thing are usually very different.

It’s cold tonight and I’m lying in bed with a sweatshirt on. I’m thinking about a new year. The idea of a fresh start. A dear friend came to see me last night and told me things would get better. I want to believe that. In a sense, I think I have to believe it or else I might go insane.

WordPress sent a summary of my blog over the past year and I could see where people from all over the world had looked at my blog. I stared at the names of countries I’ll never visit and thought about how powerful and beautiful the written word can be.

The American language is dying. Modern music and texting and e-mail and pop culture are all killing it. The letter 2 is now a word. “Junt” is a way to describe a person. Instead of saying something is funny you can string together letters and everyone knows what you mean (rotflmbo). You can make the argument that I’m getting old or you could say I love our language and it makes me sad to see it disappear while we all roll on the floor laughing.

I recently met a woman in her late fifties who said she went to college and earned her bachelor’s degree in 3 years. She was over the age of 40 when she did this. I sat there listening to her and thought that perhaps I might have a similar story one day. One of those- redemption stories. One of those- come back from behind in the fourth quarter stories. It would be nice.

So here I am, sitting in the dark. The old familiar sounds of computer keys clacking and airplanes flying overhead somewhere in the dark night sky and the buzz and whirr of traffic on the street below- all speak comfort to me. There are so few things in life you can honestly say last forever.

Take it from me. Stop what you’re doing as soon as you possibly can and find someone you love and hold them very close and tell them with absolute sincerity- how you feel about them. Then do the most important thing. Tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that, show them. Remember to be patient and kind. Don’t seek out your own interest. Remember that it’s a struggle to do the right thing so don’t quit fighting your urge to be rude and careless. And if you have any spare time you can feel free to pray for me.

I’ll be the one trying to find the words God wants me to use to glorify Him.

1 Corinthians 13:4-7

Love is patient and kind.

Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.

It does not demand its own way.

It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.

It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.

Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Wait. I have something else to say. Read these verses again slowly. Look at what they are saying. Then ask yourself if you love like this.

Do you?

With the exception of my son I don’t think I’ve ever come close. I look at those words and my first thought is that I often choose the opposite. I’m jealous and rude and I definitely keep a record of wrong doing. What about you? Do you say the word love but only show the opposite? Do you demand your own way?

Do you give up, lose faith, abandon hope and cringe at circumstances.

I had been praying for more than a year about this and I never allowed God to teach me what I was begging him to teach me. I wanted to learn to love in this way. I wanted to get to the end of my life and know, really know, that God had empowered me to love as Paul describes love to the Corinthian church.

If you ask me, diets and saving money and exercise and… are valueless resolutions. If you want to change the next year, if you want to be different than you are today, resolve to strive toward love.

I believe it’s the engine behind which all else follows.

Good night

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 6,800 times in 2011. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

The Other Side

This blog began in May of 2010. I had one view that month. I didn’t get another view until August, when I really started writing. A year later, in May of 2011, I had 915 views (my biggest month to date). In all, 8,677 separate views have crossed this blog and that means that people chose again and again to read something I had to say.

It’s humbling when I think of it in terms of numbers. It was an idea. A seed of an idea that grew into something that became a part of who I am. I know (although I’m not sure why exactly) that some people make fun of blogs and blog writers and blog readers.

I think of it as eaves dropping- if it’s done right.

I open up a little and I show some truth. Not all the truth, but some. I try not to lie (even by accident) and I strip off as much as I can so that what comes out is as much me as I can stand to share with the world.

That’s not an easy thing to do, but it is necessary if you want to amount to anything as a writer. I had a professor in college who used to preach against sentiment. I didn’t understand because I love sentiment. I love that song, “I love you for sentimental reasons. I hope you do believe me. I’ve given you my heart.” It appeals to that part of me- the part still hoping for happy endings in an ideal world. It’s a childish notion but it still has a foothold and I’m afraid if I let go of it I might be lost forever.

Writing sentiment, however, is not that same as imagining yourself to be a romantic. Sentiment is dry and tasteless. It has no real color. No anima. No essence. Writing raw is savory and desirable and easy to read. As a writer, that’s what I want. I want to engage that part of you that ignites and then something happens afterwards that’s almost uncontrollable. Addiction to the next word. And the next. And the one after that.

Hemmingway shot himself. Poe died face down in a gutter with no job. Being a writer is brutal. Not just because writers are seldom paid for what they love, but because you spend so much time alone. Alone in a room full of people. You hear the story. You engage some part of you needing to hear what isn’t being said. I used to feel bad for Harper Lee because she only wrote that one beautiful book but now I wonder if she wasn’t on to something. I often think they’ll find volumes of her work somewhere. Books written and stuffed away for fear they would be loved or hated or ignored.

Telling a story, even the story of your life, is a fearful thing. You get high from the idea of it. You want to tell it in a way no one else ever could. Then you have to let it out into the world and you don’t know what to do with yourself. It’s akin to the dream where you realize you’re at school naked. There is, without doubt, a nakedness to it. Vulnerability. Showing everyone something no one is supposed to see.

I’m not sure why I’m saying this. Maybe I’ve wanted to say it for a while. Maybe it’s late and I should be asleep now, but I’m not. Whatever the case, I just thought you might like to know. Thought you might like to hear about the other side of it.

I know I said this before, but I got pretty sad a while ago and I stopped writing because of it. I couldn’t pull it together for a long time and writing was sort of like cutting wounds again and again and that was something I simply didn’t have the strength to do. I’m only saying this because it goes back to the core of it. Writing is taking a little piece of you and releasing it. When you are off kilter then your writing is off kilter.

I think it boils down to this. And don’t get too excited because it’s pretty simple really. I had 62 hits today. That means that 62 individuals chose to spend some time with me. That number is nothing like impressive when you look at other blogs with numbers much much higher but for me it’s immense. In October my average views per day was down to 6. I feel as though I may be waking up again and it’s nice to find I have company.

So thank you. I mean it. Thank you for taking time out of your life to share a little of mine. Thanks for not giving up on me and thanks for not judging too harshly. You matter to me. You make doing this little thing a joy and you’re the reason I look forward to it again and again.

Occupy Thankfulness

This week at work is a slow one. People travel during the holidays but they don’t stay at hotels- they stay with family. This means that the hotel gets quiet and the days get long and boring. So, since today is Monday, I expected just that. I long boring day.

Wrong.

It was quiet, yes, but the time flew by. I have no idea why but I hope it lasts. It was amazing. I thought it was 9am– at a little past 11am. That happened all day until the end.

It rained today, which is supposed to be depressing and sad and gloomy, but it wasn’t. It looked like winter weather to me and, even though it was 70 degrees, the rain is getting pushed out by colder weather and sunshine is on the way.

I’m broke.

I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean it in a scary way. I am the 99% for real and I don’t live in a tent in the park and cry about the government being too small and I don’t hate capitalism.

I ate turkey again tonight. I revamped the gravy and made it OH so much better the second time. I should open a restaurant and call it Joe’s House of Gravy, and my slogan could be “After you eat here it’s all GRAVY”.

I have laundry to do. I’m almost finished but I need to get up and get the rest of it knocked out so I can stop fretting over it.

I ordered some ear warmers tonight because the weather’s going to change soon and I have to be ready.

I found a 15 foot HDMI cable for $1.17 and I got so excited that I had to tell someone.

Those are the real things that happened to me to today. Not very interesting. It’s what reality TV would look like if was actually reality TV.

I was praying earlier and asking God to help me and guide me and I was asking him if providing my needs meant providing my financial needs because I think I’m about to be in some real trouble and then someone showed up at my door with a check for $124.

If you’re not a Christian I know it’s difficult to put those two things together, but I am a Christian and I have no choice but to see God’s hand of grace on me. He answered me in the most real and immediate way- and I needed it. Not just for my bank miniscule bank account but I needed the encouragement.

I think what I’m trying to say is that this has been one of those days. Not the bad ones you always hear about.

No, not a bad day.

It’s been a day I wouldn’t mind living over again sometime soon. Although I would prefer to make enough money to pay my bills and save a little and… But I’m not going to complain today. Today I’m going to lie here for another moment and close my eyes and feel the cool air blowing in my window and see the shadows from the ceiling fan bouncing against my eyelids and I’ll thank God for caring for me.

I feel small. Not young. But small. As if I’ve seen the world and finally realized that it’s bigger than my apartment. I don’t mean tonight. I mean this year I’ve seen it. I had a closed view for a while and I loved it. I was saving money and doing a lot of laughing and I didn’t have much to vex me but now I can see that it only takes a moment, a twinkling, and the walls of my home fall away and I’m left staring at the vastness of…everything else around me. Feeling small is frightening at first but then, as you grow accustomed to it, you realize that things haven’t changed at all. You change. You evolve into a slightly wiser person.

Not a wise person. Just a slightly wiser person.

Christ once said that people who aren’t sick don’t need a doctor. He tended to me tonight. Told me that, yes, I am small and, yes, I’m not doing well right now, but He’s not going to leave me and He provides- just as He said He would.

Don’t forget- this week is Thanksgiving. Maybe it’s time to stop for a moment and be thankful. I have been doing it for most of the day and I can’t tell you how cathartic it is. There is healing in realizing how blessed you are. Take a moment and see how good it is. Imagine all those miserable people participating in this ‘occupy’ thing and take a breath and know that you’re fortunate.

Feels good doesn’t it?