"Never apologize, never explain".
A good mantra. I have tried this out before and failed. So I will try it out again in 2020.
So it is not original to me. It is not original at all.
I connect it to Hunter S. Thompson. He used it. That's where I picked up on it. But there is a lot of debate about who originated the quote.
Doesn't matter.
I like it. One of the changes I need to make is to get tougher. Apologizing and explaining are weak.
Just do what you do, be who you are and keep moving on.
This is part of my goal for 2020.
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
I Take This Shit Seriously
I am sitting here thinking about my birthday.
It is important to me. Off and on during the day I will think "This is my birthday". I am rock solid aware of it. It means something to me.
A lot of people will say "It's just another day". That is a sad way to approach life. You need reasons to celebrate; you need milestones that make you think, make you evaluate your life. You need to feel good about yourself or at least be moving down the road towards feeling good about yourself.
So I will think about this day. Think about my age. Think about who I am. Think about who I want to be.
New Year's Eve is something that is important to Carol and me. We always stay up to witness the birth of a new year.
Not easy. We struggle to stay awake. But it means something to us. And, of course, I like ringing in my birthday at the very second that it comes around.
I have lots of friends and acquaintances "my age" who do not stay up until midnight. Just another night, they say. I get that. It is definitely an age thing. I can cut them some slack. If you're not out celebrating why torture yourself. If you're tired, go to bed. It just doesn't work for Carol and me.
I was smiling to myself last night. In fact we talked about it. Talked about how things change as you stumble down the road of life.
I got out of work at 6:00. Picked up Chinese food, which Carol had ordered 6 hours earlier. We do this every year. Magically it was ready when I walked in the door. That is not always the case. In the past I have had to wait, but I don't mind. Carol will typically call the order in around noon for a 6:30 pick up. If they get that right within 15 minutes or even half an hour, I am OK with it. They are dealing with hundreds of orders. It is insane.
Besides, if the wait is long enough I'll treat myself to a beer.
Got home. Sat down around 7:00 and pigged out on Chinese food. And watched our own self created marathon of Sex and the City. Just dialed up HBO and let it rip.
Around 10 or 10:30 we switched over to the annual Three Stooges marathon. Finally around 11:40 we switched over to New Year's coverage.
I am a partyer. I like to party. I still would like to ring in the new year and my birthday at a party, but it would have to be someplace close and comfortable. But I would like to do it.
Instead we pig out on Chinese, watch Sex and the City, and the Three Stooges, struggle to stay awake, and, finally - ring in the new year.
I am OK with that. Because at midnight I kiss Carol, wish her a happy new year, tell her I love her, and cry. She kisses me back, and wishes me a happy new year and a happy birthday.
Then I text Keith and Craig and Amanda and wish them a happy new year, and they text me back.
Pretty subdued but it means something to me. Means something to us.
It was a good night.
I will think about last night. I will think about my birthday to day. I will think about me. I will think about my life.
I take this shit seriously.
It is important to me. Off and on during the day I will think "This is my birthday". I am rock solid aware of it. It means something to me.
A lot of people will say "It's just another day". That is a sad way to approach life. You need reasons to celebrate; you need milestones that make you think, make you evaluate your life. You need to feel good about yourself or at least be moving down the road towards feeling good about yourself.
So I will think about this day. Think about my age. Think about who I am. Think about who I want to be.
New Year's Eve is something that is important to Carol and me. We always stay up to witness the birth of a new year.
Not easy. We struggle to stay awake. But it means something to us. And, of course, I like ringing in my birthday at the very second that it comes around.
I have lots of friends and acquaintances "my age" who do not stay up until midnight. Just another night, they say. I get that. It is definitely an age thing. I can cut them some slack. If you're not out celebrating why torture yourself. If you're tired, go to bed. It just doesn't work for Carol and me.
I was smiling to myself last night. In fact we talked about it. Talked about how things change as you stumble down the road of life.
I got out of work at 6:00. Picked up Chinese food, which Carol had ordered 6 hours earlier. We do this every year. Magically it was ready when I walked in the door. That is not always the case. In the past I have had to wait, but I don't mind. Carol will typically call the order in around noon for a 6:30 pick up. If they get that right within 15 minutes or even half an hour, I am OK with it. They are dealing with hundreds of orders. It is insane.
Besides, if the wait is long enough I'll treat myself to a beer.
Got home. Sat down around 7:00 and pigged out on Chinese food. And watched our own self created marathon of Sex and the City. Just dialed up HBO and let it rip.
Around 10 or 10:30 we switched over to the annual Three Stooges marathon. Finally around 11:40 we switched over to New Year's coverage.
I am a partyer. I like to party. I still would like to ring in the new year and my birthday at a party, but it would have to be someplace close and comfortable. But I would like to do it.
Instead we pig out on Chinese, watch Sex and the City, and the Three Stooges, struggle to stay awake, and, finally - ring in the new year.
I am OK with that. Because at midnight I kiss Carol, wish her a happy new year, tell her I love her, and cry. She kisses me back, and wishes me a happy new year and a happy birthday.
Then I text Keith and Craig and Amanda and wish them a happy new year, and they text me back.
Pretty subdued but it means something to me. Means something to us.
It was a good night.
I will think about last night. I will think about my birthday to day. I will think about me. I will think about my life.
I take this shit seriously.
Gonna Try
December 30 and December 31, 2019 - two fucking annoying, miserable days. How fitting.
Two days of non-stop ice and snow. I was fucking furious.
Two days that brought out the absolute worst in me to an exaggerated level. Two days that exposed the part of me I hate the most. The part of me I most want to repair starting in 2020.
So, in a way, I guess it was a good experience. At least to the extent that I am aware of this massive flaw in my character.
For context: Snow and ice represent to me everything that is wrong with my life. Everything I hate about my life. I have made dealing with snow and ice the symbol of my unhappiness. So I react to them way out of proportion to what a normal person would do.
Didn't have to work Monday and Carol took the day off, but we still had to leave the house. I had dropped my car off on Sunday so it could undergo the annual inspection on Monday. We had to go pick it up. This was around noon.
My car is not great in the snow. I barely - barely - made it up the hill getting back home. And of course I had to shovel a little and clean off Carol's car before we left.
Overall I was pissed.
We spent the rest of the day lounging. Watched a terrible Adam Sandler/Jennifer Aniston movie. I mean terrible.
Went to bed knowing I had to work at Job 1 on Tuesday. Not knowing it would still be snowing when I got up. Looked out the window and my head exploded.
I shoveled a little and gave up because the snow was fucking heavy. Besides, we got a guy who we hired to shovel for us. I gotta get used to that. He did show up and did a great job. I cleaned off both cars, which wasn't easy either.
Carol decided to stay home from work; I decided to take her car because it is better in the snow. I got stuck in the driveway. Fucking car would not even move.
I lost it. My anger had been building for two days now. I stalked into the house, took off my jacket and flung it onto the floor. I took off my fleece jacket and flung that onto the floor. I threw my wallet onto the table and stomped upstairs to the bedroom.
I was literally almost hyperventilating.
In other words, I acted like a two year old child.
While I was doing this Carol calmly (although she slammed the French door on the way out) went out and shoveled the sand that was in her trunk under the tires and backed the car out of the spot.
She has dealt with this stupidity hundreds of times and basically walks around on eggshells until I calm the fuck down.
Know what bothered me the most? Maka was scared to death of me for about 15 minutes. After my tantrum, whenever I walked towards her she would duck under a chair or the bed or anything that would give her refuge from this maniac.
It broke my heart.
I need to grow up a little. Be more considerate of Carol. She does not deserve to see me this way. It creates so much tension.
Gonna try. Gonna try in 2020.
Two days of non-stop ice and snow. I was fucking furious.
Two days that brought out the absolute worst in me to an exaggerated level. Two days that exposed the part of me I hate the most. The part of me I most want to repair starting in 2020.
So, in a way, I guess it was a good experience. At least to the extent that I am aware of this massive flaw in my character.
For context: Snow and ice represent to me everything that is wrong with my life. Everything I hate about my life. I have made dealing with snow and ice the symbol of my unhappiness. So I react to them way out of proportion to what a normal person would do.
Didn't have to work Monday and Carol took the day off, but we still had to leave the house. I had dropped my car off on Sunday so it could undergo the annual inspection on Monday. We had to go pick it up. This was around noon.
My car is not great in the snow. I barely - barely - made it up the hill getting back home. And of course I had to shovel a little and clean off Carol's car before we left.
Overall I was pissed.
We spent the rest of the day lounging. Watched a terrible Adam Sandler/Jennifer Aniston movie. I mean terrible.
Went to bed knowing I had to work at Job 1 on Tuesday. Not knowing it would still be snowing when I got up. Looked out the window and my head exploded.
I shoveled a little and gave up because the snow was fucking heavy. Besides, we got a guy who we hired to shovel for us. I gotta get used to that. He did show up and did a great job. I cleaned off both cars, which wasn't easy either.
Carol decided to stay home from work; I decided to take her car because it is better in the snow. I got stuck in the driveway. Fucking car would not even move.
I lost it. My anger had been building for two days now. I stalked into the house, took off my jacket and flung it onto the floor. I took off my fleece jacket and flung that onto the floor. I threw my wallet onto the table and stomped upstairs to the bedroom.
I was literally almost hyperventilating.
In other words, I acted like a two year old child.
While I was doing this Carol calmly (although she slammed the French door on the way out) went out and shoveled the sand that was in her trunk under the tires and backed the car out of the spot.
She has dealt with this stupidity hundreds of times and basically walks around on eggshells until I calm the fuck down.
Know what bothered me the most? Maka was scared to death of me for about 15 minutes. After my tantrum, whenever I walked towards her she would duck under a chair or the bed or anything that would give her refuge from this maniac.
It broke my heart.
I need to grow up a little. Be more considerate of Carol. She does not deserve to see me this way. It creates so much tension.
Gonna try. Gonna try in 2020.
Good To Laugh
January 1, 2020.
I like the way that looks in print.
Anyway I started reading the perfect book today on my 66th birthday. Completely at random.
When Billy Crystal turned 65 he wrote a book titled "Still Foolin' 'Em - Where I've been, Where I'm Going, and Where the Hell Are My Keys?"
It is a combination autobiography and study of aging. Leaning more heavily on his thoughts about getting older.
It caught my eye somehow, someway - I don't always remember where I get my info on books that are out there. I did not realize how perfect it is for today. My birthday.
I read 50 or 60 pages and have laughed out loud many times.
I don't like being 66 but I am told it is better than being dead.
Aging is a universal thing - we all go through it and it is amazing how many similarities there are from human to human as we get older, and older still. We joke about it but the similarities are there - unavoidable and shared.
Why not laugh about it?
That's what I like about what Billy has done. He got me laughing about things that normally piss me off.
And why not?
Nothing I can do about it. I forget shit, my knuckles, knees, hip and back hurt in shifts - sometimes all at once. After sitting in my recliner for hours I get up like a 99 year old man - hunched over and limping for the first five or six steps.
I can make myself more miserable by fixating on my breaking down body - or I can just deal with it.
And laugh as much as possible.
It is good to be reading this book today. I am really focused on my birthday this year. I don't exactly know why.
It is good to laugh on January 1, 2020.
I like the way that looks in print.
Anyway I started reading the perfect book today on my 66th birthday. Completely at random.
When Billy Crystal turned 65 he wrote a book titled "Still Foolin' 'Em - Where I've been, Where I'm Going, and Where the Hell Are My Keys?"
It is a combination autobiography and study of aging. Leaning more heavily on his thoughts about getting older.
It caught my eye somehow, someway - I don't always remember where I get my info on books that are out there. I did not realize how perfect it is for today. My birthday.
I read 50 or 60 pages and have laughed out loud many times.
I don't like being 66 but I am told it is better than being dead.
Aging is a universal thing - we all go through it and it is amazing how many similarities there are from human to human as we get older, and older still. We joke about it but the similarities are there - unavoidable and shared.
Why not laugh about it?
That's what I like about what Billy has done. He got me laughing about things that normally piss me off.
And why not?
Nothing I can do about it. I forget shit, my knuckles, knees, hip and back hurt in shifts - sometimes all at once. After sitting in my recliner for hours I get up like a 99 year old man - hunched over and limping for the first five or six steps.
I can make myself more miserable by fixating on my breaking down body - or I can just deal with it.
And laugh as much as possible.
It is good to be reading this book today. I am really focused on my birthday this year. I don't exactly know why.
It is good to laugh on January 1, 2020.
Saturday, December 28, 2019
Melancholy Creeps
Man, oh man - here we go.
Melancholy creeps. It is inevitable at this time of year. At least if you are a sentient being.
Thanksgiving was magnificent. My family does it up right. And I lucked out.
Had Thursday and Friday off from both jobs. Was supposed to work Saturday night but woke up sick as a dog Saturday morning. Boss man found a replacement. I was jubilant. Tells you where my head is at when I would rather be sick than go to work.
Had Sunday off and then.......it snowed on Monday. Took the day off. So I ended up with 5 days off. In a row.
Got me some Christmas spirit; came out of nowhere. But it got beat out of me. Started when I focused on the fact I was only gonna get one day off for Christmas. Then between nauseating Christmas commercials and all the phony "Merry Christmases" rolling off peoples' lips - bile rose up in my throat.
Got lucky again, though. Had Sat and Sun off before Christmas, took Monday off and then.............. Job I decided they would close on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. So I ended up with 5 days off. In a row. Again.
But I did have to get up at 5:30 on Dec 26 for Job II. That sucked royally. Completely destroyed the Christmas glow. And again at 5:30 on Dec 27.
Had to get some whining in. Live with it.
And here I am. Dec 28. Ruminating.
2019 about to come crashing down. At my age it feels like another year gone by. And another year gone by. And another and another and another and another..............
When I "turned" 60 it occurred to me that the decade between 50 and 60 flashed by like a bullet train. I decided I needed to slow things down, dig in my heels, put the brakes on and any other cliche you want to torture.
Next week I will be 66. I never even saw the last 6 years.
Jesus fucking Christ. Time moves fast. For a while life dribbles out of you. Then it gushes like blood from a severed artery.
Started this blog up in 2011. Eight years ago. That means at least 7 new years have been commented on. Occurred to me I could go back and read my thoughts around this time of year to teach me a lesson. Light a fire under my ass.
Because in a nutshell I would read the same shit over and over and over again. I hate my life. I gotta make changes. I'm running out of time. How do I get money. How do I get happy.
I don't think that would serve any purpose. I am well aware of my short comings. Don't need to bludgeon my psyche.
I always try to come up with some specific gift to make my birthday special. Treat my self. But it never accomplishes anything. Buying something from Amazon does nothing for the soul.
Keith got me thinking last week. We were having a conversation and he said I should do something for myself instead of buying something for myself. Like learning to meditate.
Makes perfect sense. Because really, the bottom line, the most obvious solution to my unhappiness, is to change my lifestyle, my approach to life. What I do. The way I think.
A seed has been planted. Doesn't necessarily mean anything because I am not sure at this late date that my brain is fertile enough to nurture growth. But it might be. One never knows.
66 is 4 days away.
I am a little nervous about it. I don't like the number. I'm a tad nervous about 2020. Every new year carries a little more weight.
More to come....................
Melancholy creeps. It is inevitable at this time of year. At least if you are a sentient being.
Thanksgiving was magnificent. My family does it up right. And I lucked out.
Had Thursday and Friday off from both jobs. Was supposed to work Saturday night but woke up sick as a dog Saturday morning. Boss man found a replacement. I was jubilant. Tells you where my head is at when I would rather be sick than go to work.
Had Sunday off and then.......it snowed on Monday. Took the day off. So I ended up with 5 days off. In a row.
Got me some Christmas spirit; came out of nowhere. But it got beat out of me. Started when I focused on the fact I was only gonna get one day off for Christmas. Then between nauseating Christmas commercials and all the phony "Merry Christmases" rolling off peoples' lips - bile rose up in my throat.
Got lucky again, though. Had Sat and Sun off before Christmas, took Monday off and then.............. Job I decided they would close on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. So I ended up with 5 days off. In a row. Again.
But I did have to get up at 5:30 on Dec 26 for Job II. That sucked royally. Completely destroyed the Christmas glow. And again at 5:30 on Dec 27.
Had to get some whining in. Live with it.
And here I am. Dec 28. Ruminating.
2019 about to come crashing down. At my age it feels like another year gone by. And another year gone by. And another and another and another and another..............
When I "turned" 60 it occurred to me that the decade between 50 and 60 flashed by like a bullet train. I decided I needed to slow things down, dig in my heels, put the brakes on and any other cliche you want to torture.
Next week I will be 66. I never even saw the last 6 years.
Jesus fucking Christ. Time moves fast. For a while life dribbles out of you. Then it gushes like blood from a severed artery.
Started this blog up in 2011. Eight years ago. That means at least 7 new years have been commented on. Occurred to me I could go back and read my thoughts around this time of year to teach me a lesson. Light a fire under my ass.
Because in a nutshell I would read the same shit over and over and over again. I hate my life. I gotta make changes. I'm running out of time. How do I get money. How do I get happy.
I don't think that would serve any purpose. I am well aware of my short comings. Don't need to bludgeon my psyche.
I always try to come up with some specific gift to make my birthday special. Treat my self. But it never accomplishes anything. Buying something from Amazon does nothing for the soul.
Keith got me thinking last week. We were having a conversation and he said I should do something for myself instead of buying something for myself. Like learning to meditate.
Makes perfect sense. Because really, the bottom line, the most obvious solution to my unhappiness, is to change my lifestyle, my approach to life. What I do. The way I think.
A seed has been planted. Doesn't necessarily mean anything because I am not sure at this late date that my brain is fertile enough to nurture growth. But it might be. One never knows.
66 is 4 days away.
I am a little nervous about it. I don't like the number. I'm a tad nervous about 2020. Every new year carries a little more weight.
More to come....................
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
As You Well Know
"The effects of their drinks had now entered on that secondary stage, vividly described in temperance handbooks, when the momentary illusion of well-being and exhilaration gives place to melancholy, indigestion, and moral decay."
From "Vile Bodies" by Evelyn Waugh
From "Vile Bodies" by Evelyn Waugh
Sunday, December 8, 2019
December 8
Happy Birthday, Gregg Allman.
You would have been 72 today.
Still bothers me greatly that I will never see you perform live again. Some of my greatest memories are of Allman Brothers concerts. The music, the atmosphere, the people, the insanity. The music. You brought me a great deal of happiness; you helped me get away from my life and my troubles, you made me sing out loud with thousands of my closest friends.
You were the blues, my friend. Requiescat in pace along with Duane, Butch, and Berry.
Happy Birthday, Jim Morrison.
You would have been 76 today.
To me you are a guy who rock 'n roll and the music business literally killed. Countless musicians died from excess - too much money, too much booze, too many drugs, too much fun. Understandable.
But you never really wanted to be a rock star. You were a poet. You wanted to write. I love your poetry even though some of it is over my head. But you got sucked into the music world, got raped by the business and could not get out. You were destroyed, stripped of your dignity and individuality. I love your poetry. I love the music of The Doors.
Requiescat in pace, my friend.
John Lennon.
You were killed 39 years ago today. Thirty nine fucking years ago. You were forty years old. Forty. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast in Billerica before going off to my ridiculous job the next morning, listening to the radio. They played a Beatles song. Then another. And I got chills. Soon I knew that you were dead. You would think I would have known about it - they announced it on Monday night football the night before. Howard Cosell, who was visibly shaken. Rightfully so. I must have gone to bed early that night.
You would have been 79 on October 9 of this year. Wish you were still around. You were on Richard Nixon's hit list because of the way you protested against him. You were harassed by immigration, the IRS and the FBI. I would love to hear what you would have to say about trump. You stood up for what you believed in and campaigned tirelessly for peace. I loved your sarcastic wit. I loved you. Requiescat in pace, my friend.
Related: Mark David Chapman. Drop dead, motherfucker so you can rot in hell for eternity. You have been in prison since killing John Lennon but that punishment is not enough. I want you in hell, writhing in pain for eternity. You shot Lennon in the back, you fucking coward. Four times. As he was entering his home where his son was sleeping.
I cannot end on that negative note.
Gregg Allman, Jim Morrison and John Lennon were three men who brought me so much joy, soothed my soul and breathed life into it. You made my life better.
There is no greater gift.
You would have been 72 today.
Still bothers me greatly that I will never see you perform live again. Some of my greatest memories are of Allman Brothers concerts. The music, the atmosphere, the people, the insanity. The music. You brought me a great deal of happiness; you helped me get away from my life and my troubles, you made me sing out loud with thousands of my closest friends.
You were the blues, my friend. Requiescat in pace along with Duane, Butch, and Berry.
Happy Birthday, Jim Morrison.
You would have been 76 today.
To me you are a guy who rock 'n roll and the music business literally killed. Countless musicians died from excess - too much money, too much booze, too many drugs, too much fun. Understandable.
But you never really wanted to be a rock star. You were a poet. You wanted to write. I love your poetry even though some of it is over my head. But you got sucked into the music world, got raped by the business and could not get out. You were destroyed, stripped of your dignity and individuality. I love your poetry. I love the music of The Doors.
Requiescat in pace, my friend.
John Lennon.
You were killed 39 years ago today. Thirty nine fucking years ago. You were forty years old. Forty. I was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast in Billerica before going off to my ridiculous job the next morning, listening to the radio. They played a Beatles song. Then another. And I got chills. Soon I knew that you were dead. You would think I would have known about it - they announced it on Monday night football the night before. Howard Cosell, who was visibly shaken. Rightfully so. I must have gone to bed early that night.
You would have been 79 on October 9 of this year. Wish you were still around. You were on Richard Nixon's hit list because of the way you protested against him. You were harassed by immigration, the IRS and the FBI. I would love to hear what you would have to say about trump. You stood up for what you believed in and campaigned tirelessly for peace. I loved your sarcastic wit. I loved you. Requiescat in pace, my friend.
Related: Mark David Chapman. Drop dead, motherfucker so you can rot in hell for eternity. You have been in prison since killing John Lennon but that punishment is not enough. I want you in hell, writhing in pain for eternity. You shot Lennon in the back, you fucking coward. Four times. As he was entering his home where his son was sleeping.
I cannot end on that negative note.
Gregg Allman, Jim Morrison and John Lennon were three men who brought me so much joy, soothed my soul and breathed life into it. You made my life better.
There is no greater gift.
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