Just read a book titled The Butcher's Daughter, by Victoria Glendinning. Set in 16th century England.
A very fine book.
Lots of nasty things were going on in the 1500's in England. One of the characters, during some nastiness that was causing a great deal of uncertainty and unhappiness for a lot of people, said in a spirit of hopefulness: "There will be butterflies."
I love that expression. I love the hopefulness of it.
I am adopting it as my own.
Then again, a person can use a happiness platform to launch a new reality into the stratosphere.
What did I just say?
Happiness is a fine commodity. You take what you can get and then build from there. You gotta savor it, appreciate it, and celebrate it. What you don't want to do is pollute it. That would be a sin.
Happiness is fragile. It is subject to the whims of the mind. A diseased mind threatens happiness, more often than not undeservedly. A mind once diseased but now flooded with happiness, must adapt. A new reality is dizzying - you gotta get your feet under you. But quickly. Happiness must be nourished and delicately cared for so it can bloom into ecstasy.
Lesson learned.
I welcomed 2024 with ecstasy.
Today is January 5, 2024.
I am living in a new house that I love, in a new town that I love. I have no mortgage to pay - I own my house free and clear.
I have a chunk of money in the bank.
I am surrounded by convenience in every possible way, as opposed to where I used to live, which was on the edge of the world - miles and miles away from anything that could make my life easier.
I quit my job, haven't worked in coming up on two months - it has been divine.
I am getting close to landing a decent paying job ten minutes from my house - second interview coming up on Wednesday.
My life got exponentially easier, happier and more beautiful as of October 31, 2023. I am happy in a way I never thought possible.
Ten minutes ago, sitting in my recliner, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the sense that I am walllowing in unthinking happiness. A happiness that is fantastic and beautiful, but maybe not deep enough.That I am not doing enough; not trying even close to as hard as I should be to make my life better in a meaningful way. Especially at the age of 70.
I'm feeling a little shaky right now.
I am rooting around like a truffle hog, looking for a job.
I know I will sniff one out eventually. I am not worried about it at all.
I have updated my resume approximately 77 times since November 1. In fact I now have three different resumes to cover various situations. I am using current styles, and ways of presenting information - formats that were not standard when I last updated the resume in 1886.
And, of course, I am using every underhanded way of disguising my age that I can possibly come up with, including those recommended by "resume experts." Like not listing the year I graduated college. Like only showing fifteen years of experience instead of the 45 years that actually represent my working life. And by typing at the top of the resume, under my name, "I Am Not Old."
This is necessary because at this stage of my life, most potential employers see me as an imminent corpse more than a future employee.
I have to be careful, though. I can't just jump at anything. I expect a certain level of pay and a certain level of dignity. Understand, I am not looking for a career - I am just looking for a job that will swell our coffers and make life safe and enjoyable for me and Carol. But I don't have to wear a paper hat or a hair net just to get a paycheck.
I came close. Because even though we have a pretty solid level of security for a while, my mind keeps saying "You're unemployed, you goddamn slacker - you're not bringing in any money - you gotta earn!". You know, it's that thought process that is drilled into your brain from the time you are 3 days old.
Christ, I came close. I applied to Staples and I applied to Market Basket. I have no idea what I was thinking. Actually, I do. I am afraid Carol will panic at some point and scream at me "Tiffany's closed my account because I only spent $5,000 last month. Get a fucking job."
Truthfully, I don't want Carol to think I am sitting in my office every day getting pissed and watching porn. I feel like I have to show results. But I need to have patience. I know I am working as hard as I can at getting a job. It will happen. And our good fortune will continue.
Staples interviewed me. When they asked about experience I told them I operate a beet farm. They did not hire me. (Editor's note - They actually did interview me and did not hire me. WTF.) I had an interview scheduled at Market Basket, but I cancelled it. Close fucking call in both instances.
So I'm rooting around. Sniffing out opportunity. I will lower my standards a bit for a job close by - there are a lot of businesses in Tilton and Laconia. A 10 minute commute would be joyous. But no hair nets.
Did you know that when you go through the Burger King drive thru they say "How can I help you? You rule!" And after you place your order they say "Pull up to the window. You rule!" I bet every Burger King employee is an alcoholic.
The good thing is that the sky's the limit. Anything is possible. The whole world is at my feet. Pick your cliche.
I literally have nothing but opportunity in front of me and it feels oh so good.
If you go through life never figuring out exactly who you are, it is the saddest thing conceivable.
Are you kidding me?
Did you see the Rose Bowl and the Sugar Bowl on Janaury 1? Holy shit.
College Ball vibrates at the speed of life. The competition itself is exciting, and the intensity gets amped up ten times over by the crowd - students, alumni, parents, grandparents, infants, and fetuses - who are emotionally invested in their team at a level that explodes skulls.
96,000 people at the Rose Bowl. 74,000 people at the Sugar Bowl. Bringing the thunder.
I caught the first half of the Rose Bowl. Then I fell asleep. I woke up to find that Michigan won the game in overtime. Fucking overtime. And I missed it. There were extenuating circumstances.
I stayed up until 2 am on New Year's Eve sipping whiskey and listening to music. The Allman Brothers, and Leonard Cohen. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Felt good. Felt right. Carol went to bed at 1:00. I was sitting in the dark sitting, listening, and reflecting.
Felt a little beat up on January 1 - my birthday - but nothing I couldn't handle. Carol and I met up with Keith for a birthday lunch. We had a great time. I had a couple of beers. So the odds were stacked against the possibility I would make it through the entire game. And I didn't.
Caught the Sugar Bowl. Another great game. Texas had a chance to win it, literally up until the last second. But they blew it.
Two huge bowl games that delivered big time on the excitement meter.
I was rooting for Alabama. I was rooting for Texas.
The championship will be played on Monday, January 8. Michigan vs Washington. Two undefeated teams. Should be spectacular.
Apparently I need to beef up my insider's knowledge of big time college football.
"This year I will be more thoughtful of my fellow man, exert more effort in each of my endeavors, professionally as well as personally. Take love wherever I find it, and offer it to everyone who will take it.
In this coming year I will seek knowledge from those wiser than me and try to teach those who wish to learn from me. I love being alive and I will be the best man I possibly can."
Duane Allman, January 1, 1969
