Might Do Some Damage

I have to stop living in my head.

It's a royally fucked up place to be.

Every Goddamn Time

 Every time I'm forced to be practical and responsible I lose my sense of humor.

Where I Am

 "It's a big old beautiful universe and I'm happy where I am

I got supper in the oven and a cold drink in my hand

I take naps when I want to and go dancing when I can

And I wouldn't have it any other way"

From Any Other Way, by Hayes & The Heathens

Move On, Crazy Person

Comes a time when you have to stop apologizing.

Better to "Never apologize, never explain", but that ain't easy to do. You just have to not give a shit to pull that philosophy off. Most people can't do it. But it's gotta be tastier than premium dark chocolate, if you can live it.

Guilt's gotta go too. If you feel like you should apologize, you are feeling guilt. Fuck guilt.

After a while (many decades, typically) - you realize that you are what you are. You will fuck up (their definition, not yours) in consistent ways, and be judged for it in each instance. 

But how often do you fuck up? How many instances? Percentage-wise, it's minimal. If you fucked up all the time you'd be dead or in prison. Considering all the social interactions you experience in life, the vast majority of them are navigated with care and success. But the fuck-ups (their definition, not yours) seem overwhelming because you dwell on other people's reactions. You take it to heart.

Don't. It's not important. You deserve to be judged by a body of work, not by individual events.

After a certain point in your life you just gotta roll with it. You're gonna knock people off balance because of some miscalculation or excess and they will shake their heads and roll their eyes. But if you were pursuing something genuine to you and got the math wrong, well, shit happens. Next time you'll do better.

But realistically, doing better doesn't matter. It's not relevant if you let "better" be defined by others. Better is whatever you define it to be. Better only applies to your own expectations.

So move on, crazy person. Ignore the tension in the air and move on to the next scenario.

You'll have much more fun that way.

Beware of Sadness

Sadness happens.

Someone you love dies, you get sad. That's real. But you don't want to manufacture sadness. Your mind is a dangerous place - dark and deadly thoughts crawl around in there based on false assumptions and psychopathic aberrations.

You make yourself sad because you worry about something that isn't true.

Manufactured sadness drapes itself around you like a lead blanket, weighing you down, dulling your mind, anesthesizing your senses - because it is not real and your mind/body does not know how to handle it. How to respond to it.

Genuine sadness is recognizable; your body/mind knows the feeling, having been there so many times before. It is as natural as breathing. You absorb the sadness, you feel it, think about it, and wait for it to pass like the common cold.

Manufactured sadness is tenacious. It haunts every waking thought and renders you incapable of functioning. 

Then it tortures you in your dreams.

And so.......................

And so we bought a car.

Carol's dream car for a while has been a Chevy Trax. Green. Cacti Green. She has obsessed about it for a while. Drooled. Wished. Hoped.

We made it happen yesterday. A 2025 Chevrolet Trax ACTIV. Brand spanking new - 6 miles on the sucker.

Cacti Green.

Fucking beautiful. Nothing better than a brand new car. Trust me, we have not had many in our lifetime. It rejuvenates your outlook. Makes you smile. Jacks up your pride. It's just plain fun.

And it smells so damn good.

I have finally learned how to mine Carol's happiness to make it my own. When we drove out of that dealership I was bursting inside knowing how happy she was. I want Carol to be happy always.

I tamped down my natural tendencies so as to not ruin her day. Made a conscious effort to do so.

I hate buying cars. The bullshit games the dealer plays. The fucking time it takes. But I sucked it up, held it all in, and maintained a positive, supportive attitude throughout. Kept it light.

Even though it took about 3,000 hours to get it all done.

Carol apologized to me a couple of times for how long it was taking because she knows I have zero patience. I smiled and told her not to worry, I was ok with it. And really, I was.

But this ain't about me.

We just went out to do some errands, Carol driving the new car, and she was beaming. She must have said "I love this car" ten times while we were out.

So the pecking order has changed. I now park in the driveway, I gave Carol the garage and the remote garage door opener. My suggestion. She hesitated because she is so loving and considerate, but I talked her into it. She deserves it. She can look out from the kitchen any time she wants to and ogle her new toy.

This is life stuff, baby. The good stuff. The happy stuff that opens your eyes to how easy happy can be - when you're feeling it, looking for it, appreciating it - when you make it happen.

It caroms around to everything else. The flowers on the porch. The exceptional weather. The community we live in. The new friends we've made.

We have earned it. Took a long time to get here. We sacrificed a lot, sometimes unnecessarily just because saving money was just what we did. But we got a new attitude, baby. We are digging our new life as deeply as a life can be dug.

Laissez les bons temps rouler, baby.

MADNESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 "Follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness."

Allen Ginsberg