Annus Miserablis

Annus Miserablis? I don't even need to translate that one, do I?

I hate explaining my jokes. Latin. "Horrible Year". Jeez!

I've had bad days, but nothing quite like the string of crappy days I've been facing these past few months. Some days it's been a real challenge just to crawl out of bed. Pretty much every day I say "Nothing can get worse." And then I get an email from my lawyer.

Funny thing, I've established several new email relationships with old and new friends. When the little 'You've Got Mail' icon pops up on my Palm Pre there's a brief rush of excitement.

"What could this be?"

"Who is about to bring joy into my life?"

"Are there naked pictures attached?"

No, I don't actually get any naked pictures. For most of my friends, this is a really good thing. For those of you who are not fat, hairy males, feel free to contribute.

But it really bums me out when I get email from my lawyer's office. He has two assistants, Gabriela and Samantha. I don't know either of these women, but I've come to think of them as the 'harbingers of doom'. I wonder what they look like? Would I appreciate them more if they included naked pictures?

I learned that in the 12th century, a harbinger was a "lodging-house keeper". The word derives from 'harbourer' or, as they spelled it then, 'herberer' or 'herberger'. It wasn't until the 13th century that the word came to mean a scout who went ahead of an army, and finally a sign or warning of bad things to come. Technically, "harbinger of doom" is redundant since the word already has a negative connotation. 

Recently I got an email from Samantha (harbinger #2) announcing that my custody deposition had been scheduled for my birthday. Wonderful! I can't imagine any place I'd rather spend my 42nd birthday than the Friend of the Court going over every one of my financial documents from the last two years.

Well, unless we can add a couple of lawyers.

And I get to pick up the tab? Oh joy!

My crappy year got me thinking about the concept of the 'best year ever'. I've had some great years. For me, my best year so far was probably 1991 or 1992. I was living with Best Friend Brian on Jefferson Avenue in Cincinnati. I didn't have a care in the world. My days were spent studying whatever I wanted. My evenings were filled by great friends and conversation. My weekends were spent pasting my friends on the football field before getting pasted each night.

But that's not the 'Best Year Ever'. The title of 'Best Year Ever' has to go to Albert Einstein in 1905 - and there is no second place. 1905 is commonly referred to as Einstein's Annus Mirabilis (Miracle Year). The title refers to the Annus Mirabilis Papers published by Albert Einstein in 1905. These four papers published in the German Annalen der Physik journal forever changed our views on space, time and matter. And 105 years later still form the basis of much of modern physics.

At the time of publication, Einstein was only 26 years old. Let me say that again so it sinks in. When he completely redefined objective reality Einstein was 26 years old. When I was 26 years old I was still trying to figure out the difference between shit and Shineola. And I wasn't very successful. I was 24 before I even graduated from college.

Can you imagine being the editor of Annalen der Physik that year? The editor at the time was Paul Karl Ludwig Drude. Every few months some punk kid is submitting another unsupported paper redefining decades or even century old ideas about light, energy, time, space or matter. "Well Mr. Einstein, we like your paper, but do you think you could you punch it up a little bit? The whole thing on Special Relativity is just a little dry. What if we add some cartoons of astronauts. Oh wait, astronauts don't exist yet? Go with bicycles. Or clocks."

The four papers were on the photoelectric effect, Brownian motion, special relativity and matter-energy equivalence. Not clear enough?

Have none of you spent years studying theoretical physics? What is wrong with you?

Photoelectric Effect
The photoelectric effect defines and describes energy quanta. Einstein proposed that light could only be emitted or absorbed in discrete quantities. These discrete quantities were later defined to be "photons". Einstein, a patent clerk at the time, directly contradicted the existing wave theory of light. It took sixteen years for the rest of the scientific community to accept his theory completely. Later, this paper became the foundation of quantum mechanics. He won the Nobel prize in 1921 for this discovery.

Much later, quantum mechanics was polluted by Deepak Chopra and many other charlatans to explain the magical power of positive thinking. No, it doesn't work. You can throw your copy of "The Secret" in the recycling bin. Wishing doesn't equal work.

If you want more evidence, click here. Michael Shermer does a much better job explaining this quackery than I ever could.

That doesn't mean I'm against inspirational books in general. I like inspirational books. I just think they should stick to reality. It's good to have a positive attitude and think positive thoughts, but without hard work you're just engaging in mental masturbation.

Brownian Motion
This paper proved the existence of atoms. "Brownian motion" describes the motion of small particles suspended in a stationary liquid. If you mix very small particles in water and look at them under a microscope you will see them moving around haphazardly like the chips on a Plinko board.

What is with my fascination with Plinko and "The Price is Right"?

While this had been observed for decades, before Einstein's paper no one could explain the cause of the motion. I won't get into the details, but Einstein's explanation for the motion conclusively proved the existence of the atom. That's right, using a pencil, paper and microscope Einstein proved that all matter was made of atoms.

Special Relativity
First off, don't confuse special relativity with general relativity. General relativity wasn't invented until 1916 and special relativity had nothing to do with gravity. In this paper Einstein reconciled the laws of electricity and magnetism with the laws of mechanics by redefining time, distance, mass and energy in a way that was consistent with electromagnetism. This is the paper that proved nothing can move faster than the speed of light, and time is not 'fixed', but is relative to a body's velocity.

Sorry, that's just about as simple as I can make it. 'Special Relativity' is heady stuff even for me. 'General Relativity' really takes it to the next level.

Matter and Energy Equivalence



Is that clear enough for you? It's only the most famous equation in all of physics. It's the basis of the nuclear bomb, the nuclear fusion that powers the sun and the nuclear reactions used for power generation.

Not bad for twelve months, eh? Any one of the papers would have made him a physics legend. The fact he published four put him in the same discussion as Sir Isaac Newton.  Publishing all four in the same year? Mind blowing. It would be like one athlete winning the football, baseball and basketball MVP awards in the same season.

Or the EGOT. Give a shout-out to our 30 Rock fans! I wanted to find a clip of the EGOT, but this will have to do. Why are my therapy sessions nothing like this?

At this point in my posts I generally try to shoehorn some boobs in, but it just ain't happening for me tonight. How about Marisa Tomei in 'The Wrestler'? She'll be 46 this year.

For me personally, this has been more of an Annus Miserablis. Obviously the change that is occurring around me is not conducive to great physics discoveries. I'm lucky to 'discover' change in the dryer right now. But the changes I am making are helping me to redefine what is important to me and they have had some measurable positive benefits.

I haven't written anything 'creative' since Ms. Meixner's 12th grade AP English class at Parma Senior. That was 'only' 24 years ago. And yet, here I am blogging (for free) and getting suckers like you to read my scrawlings. I've had almost 500 page views - that's probably more than the Detroit News this week.

Wow, I'm glad I'm not in the newspaper business.

I managed to spend nine years in college and never walked into an English classroom. Not even by accident. That's got to be a record. I'm not saying I'm proud of that fact, it just sort of happened. There was always something just a little more interesting. On the other hand, I am an engineer. We're hardly known for our communication skills.

You think it shows?

There are other positives. I've rediscovered some old friends. I've initiated a few new friendships. I've lost a lot of weight. I'm exercising again. I feel better about myself and I'm really starting to like the guy I see staring back at me in the mirror.

I wouldn't wish divorce on anyone, but it's not just an ending. It's also an opportunity. But to take advantage of that opportunity to need to accept and embrace the change that comes along with it. I'm just now beginning to understand that.

My Bucket List

First of all, I despise the title of this post. It's derivative, uninspired and not remotely clever.

Okay, fine, it fits with most of my other titles.

Last Sunday morning I woke up around 7:30 - well before the kids would be up and about. In my house this is the 'Golden Hour' - the hour before the broken record gets stuck on "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Enjoying the peace and quiet I gave the dog a quick scratch and headed to the bathroom to clean up. My master bath is pretty large and has a separate tub and shower. The shower is by far my favorite thing about the house. I installed an additional 50 gallon hot water heater to supplement the original 60 gallon heater. Needless to say, it is nearly impossible to run out of hot water.

About 20 minutes in I smelled the unmistakable scent of my soon to be ex-wife's perfume. I panicked and had a 'fight or flight' reaction. I could feel the adrenaline and cortisol hit my system as the hair on the back of my neck stood up. My senses snapped to attention. I was tensed and ready to defend myself from the coming attack!

It was a false alarm. The ex had left the house well before I even got out of bed. Apparently she couldn't sleep either.

Guilt maybe?

I have no idea what triggered the recognition of the scent. Perhaps it was imagined. Maybe it was a mini-stroke. Who knows? But it sure scared the crap out of me.

Six months ago I would have trusted this person with my life. That day I reacted like a pack of hungry wolves had broken through my bedroom door.

Which brings me to the point of this post, fear. How many opportunities are missed because of irrational fear? The fear of embarrassment? The fear of failure?

To tackle my fear I've decided to start a "bucket list". For those of you who have been living in the jungles of Borneo for the last decade, a bucket list is a "list" of "things" to "do" before you die, or "kick the bucket". Once, many, many years ago while in college I made a list of all the things I wanted to accomplish in my life. Then I got high and forgot where I left the list. I don't remember much about that particular list, except that many of my objectives involved sex, drugs or rock & roll (I was about 20 at the time). Since then I've kind of drifted from choice to choice and place to place without any real long term plan.

Great anti-drug message there. Smoke dope and end up like me.

That is not to say I haven't seen my share of success. I've collected several advanced degrees, I've enjoyed professional success, I've travelled the world, and I started a family. It's been a good 20 year run. But now it's time to start planning for the next twenty.

Up until now all of my objectives were driven by responsibility rather than creativity. I think that may have been a mistake and I'm going to try to fix that moving forward by challenging myself.

In fact, at some point the name of this blog is going to change from "Letting Go" to "Moving Forward". Not today, but probably sooner than I expect.

Here we go:

1) Become a teacher. Any kind of teacher - I don't care if it's community college intramural soccer. When I was in college (the first time) I seriously considered hanging around to get my PhD with the objective of becoming a professor. I went so far as to apply to Stanford, UC Berkley and Cincinnati for graduate school (only Berkley and Cincinnati accepted me). Obviously I chose to take a different path, but I think I've got the right background and temperament for the work and I think I'd be damn good at it. For me, it would be personally rewarding to help another person reach for his or her full potential. I have a lot of respect for teachers. The effect of a good teacher is not limited to just the classroom. In the right setting it can change your life.

This one is going to take some significant forward planning on my part and may end up outside of my 20 year window. The pay off will be worth it.

2) Learn a foreign language. I can "get by" in Spanish, German and Portuguese. By "get by", I mean travel around the country, find a toilet and feed myself. But having a conversation about anything other than the basic necessities is pretty much out of the question. I feel handicapped only speaking English - it's so unfashionable to be monolingual. I've decided to take the next step and become conversational in at least one other language. (This applies to my kids too.)

3) Live in a foreign country for at least a year. If the Republicans take over, I'm definitely on my way out. This would dovetail nicely with #2, but with my luck I'll end up in Canada. My objective here is to experience life from a different viewpoint. I look at the world through Midwestern "Cleveland" eyes. In my travels I've noticed significant cultural differences that affect the very way that residents think.

4) Run for public office. Yup. I don't even care about winning. I just want to be able to walk into a voting booth one time and vote for the best available candidate - Me. Maybe the Green Party needs a candidate for an obscure county commissioner position? I have to figure out some way to get my name on a ballot. I probably won't even vote for myself - I'll just take the ballot home and frame it.

5) Bowl in a tournament. I'm a damn good bowler and there is no good reason I haven't done this already. This is an issue of courage, not ability. Time to find my stones and take a risk. There are worse things in life than losing - for instance, not trying. I learned that from number 6.

6) "Tell me, have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" I had my chance with the Princess of Darkness and passed. On the Plinko board of life, there's been only one time where I felt like I ended up on the wrong side of the wire. I can clearly remember the exact moment. I had a choice - to risk everything or take the easy way out. I chose poorly.

It's going to take years, but before I die I'm going to fix that mistake.

7) Take ballroom dance lessons. No, this isn't gay. I don't want to be a dancer, I just want to take lessons. I enjoy learning new things and this one seems like a real stretch for me. I love the scene in True Lies where Arnold Schwarzenegger dances the tango with Jamie Lee Curtis. I want to pass a rose back and forth with a partner. Yes, a female partner - knock off the gay jokes. But I think I'll need said female partner before attacking this one. Applications can be submitted in the comments section. The lessons might even come in handy if my kids ever get married.

8) Act in a play or movie. I'm not talking about portraying Willie Loman. I'm thinking party guest #2 who has one spoken line. Local theater productions need extras. I'm going to have extra time. It's a perfect match. This is another one of those 'stretch' objectives to get me out of my comfort zone. I think by putting oneself in uncomfortable situations it forces personal growth. If I can stand on stage, hit my marks and enunciate clearly I'll have learned something about my personal capabilities. But where to start?

9) Go back to school for one more degree completely unrelated to my first two. I believe learning is a lifelong process. Recent studies have shown the human brain to be flexible and adaptable all through adulthood. There is no physical reason why grandma can't figure out the TV remote. She can't figure out the remote because she's not willing to challenge herself - she's too comfortable. I don't ever want to find myself in that comfort zone where I have to ask my kids to explain how my new neural implant web browser works.

"No Dad, you need to double click right lobe before opening the amygdala connection."

10) Write a blog. Check. Been there, done that, waiting for the T-shirts to get back from the printer.

Looking back over the list, there are about five items that scare the crap out of me.

Dance lessons? WTF was I thinking?

But if you had told me six months ago that I'd be sharing my most personal fears and failures with the world on Blogspot, I'd have thought you were nuts too.

I figure we all get one chance at life. Living your life being tentative or afraid doesn't prevent unhappiness, it just makes life less exciting. I'm choosing a little fear over the comfort of the mundane.

"A well spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death." - Leonardo Da Vinci

Impressions From Purgatory

Up front, I'm going to warn you that this post definitely falls under 'tragedy'. There's no happy ending and I don't learn much of anything at the end. This post is very much like my day to day life right now. "Keep your head down, eyes straight ahead, and keep moving."


***


I've been consigned to purgatory. Monday I got up early and headed out to the Macomb County Circuit Court building. The court is in downtown Mt. Clemens Michigan. Even though Mt. Clemens is only ten minutes away, I'd never been there. My professional opinion is that it's pretty cool.


The Ex and I were having our initial motions heard. Her, to have me labeled as a deadbeat piece of crap. Me, to keep her from taking the kids away from me again. Our motions were deferred from the trial judge to a Friend of the Court referee.

If I was a judge who had spent 20 to 30 years studying the law and a significant amount of time, effort and money to win an election, I wouldn't want to deal with this petty bullshit either.

Our situation reminds me of two kids fighting in the backseat of a car on a long trip.

"He touched me!"

"She touched me first!"


"Shut up!"


"You shut up!"

"Both of you shut up before I stop the car."

It was all so small and petty. If there was any trust left between us, or if one of us (her) could have acted like an adult instead of a 15 year old child, we could have skipped this whole ordeal and saved ourselves about $3,000.


But no, it was not to be. That's what happens when two people stop communicating entirely.

I had no way of knowing how this would turn out. The Ex was asking that I be found in contempt of court. Worst case, I could have been thrown in jail. What I was asking for was almost silly in comparison. "Um, could you bring back the photo albums you took please?" Yeah, that was worth $3,000. During the proceedings my attorney and my wife's attorney would leave together to negotiate a settlement on our various complaints. I can just imagine them talking about how childish we were both being and how it was going to pay for their new boats next summer.

But none of this is what I wanted to talk about. I want to talk about purgatory - the sixth floor of the circuit court building.


The sixth floor houses the Friend of the Court offices. The Friend of the Court handles all child support disputes, hearings and motions that need to be heard by referees, various depositions, child custody hearings and anything else related to 'Family Law'.


Family law is a euphemism for 'divorce'. Sure, they do adoptions once in a while, or maybe a guardianship, but the real fact of the matter is that the field is filled with divorce lawyers. I'd love to find one lawyer who specializes in 'Family Law' that doesn't make his or her money from divorce. And I mean all their money.

The sixth floor waiting room is packed with frustrated, despondent people being ministered to by the 'counselors of the damned'. For half of the condemned this is probably one of the ten worst days of their lives. For the rest it is "their job". Yes, you need to be a special person indeed to see this room and think "Damn, now this is what I want to do for a living! Where do I sign up?" Divorce lawyers are a special breed. You've got to have skin like Kevlar reinforced leather to get into this game. It is most certainly not for the sensitive or faint of heart.

The walls are a drab, textureless grey. The furniture is grey, the carpet is grey, the ceiling is grey. The only thing breaking the monotony are the blond birch doors and trim. Even the woodwork is drab. Straight edges and hard corners with no ornamentation. The decor fits the setting perfectly. It is fitting stage dressing for the drama going on. In this room there are only losers and bigger losers. All concepts of justice have been replaced by "minimizing losses".


There are two waiting areas. The first, more crowded, area is the waiting room for the various courtrooms where motions and various other court functions are performed. Each individual courtroom has a bench, a court reporter, seating for about six people and a lot of microphones. Paranoia is justified here, because everyone is out to get you.


The other waiting room is for the Friend of the Court cashier. All manner of people were here pleading their various reasons for being short on their monthly child support payments. Everyone had a story and not a single one was about to put shoes on little Tommy. None of the people waiting for court appointments were desperate enough to wait here. The people visiting the cashier were the 'Dalits' (Hindu untouchables). These people were looked at as the lowest of the low. Everyone assumed these people were deadbeats, even though many were probably there because of circumstances well outside of their control.

As I sat in my designated waiting area, I couldn't help but overhear various conversations. All were marked by frustration and disappointment. It was a room of failure. Sure, there were people who 'deserved' what was coming to them, but everyone was culpable to some degree. In the end they all lost. No one got what they wanted, most lost at least part of what they valued most, and all walked away with the bill. The conversations varied. I heard lawyers trying to explain to obstinate clients that compromise was in their best interest. I heard soon to be ex-husbands and wives fighting the same fights they'd probably been having for the last ten years. I heard lawyers exchanging pleasantries and planning their next trips 'Up North'.


In Michigan, everyone vacations 'Up North'. Up North isn't clearly defined, but for most people it means anything north of Saginaw. Up North Michigan is absolutely beautiful. Whether you are in Petosky, Gaylord, Mackinaw, Traverse City or the Upper Peninsula, it's all considered 'Up North' and you can't really go wrong. Woods, lakes, rivers, golf, skiing, boating, camping - whatever you want to do, it's all Up North. Most everyone has a family cottage and everyone puts up with Southeast Michigan just so they can spend their weekends Up North. If you've never vacationed in Michigan, I highly recommend it.


It was a very, very depressing day. In the end, my lawyer did a good job, protected my interests and reached a deal I could live with. It was about the best possible outcome I could have hoped for.


Monday I was lucky enough to limit my time in purgatory to four hours, but I have the nagging suspicion this place will soon become a very important part of my life.


And that is most certainly not a good thing.


Peace.

Thanks For All The Fish

Wow.

Color me surprised! Somehow, someway, word got out. This silly little blog is well over 300 page views. That's 295 more than I expected (and none were from me). For any of you still tuning in, thanks for your time. I hope at least one of you found entertainment, enlightenment, understanding or catharsis here. If you did, I've done my job.

All I ask in return is that you let your friends know that there are other people out there going through the same things. When people divorce there is a natural tendency for their friends and families to pull away. It doesn't have to be (and shouldn't be) that way.

Let your friends know you're there for them if they need it. Include them in your activities or diversions. Call early and call often. Because trust me, they need the distraction.

If you want, you can even direct them to this stupid blog. We all need to know we are not alone.

Thanks again. Please keep the comments and suggestions coming. I need input people!

b.

You can send them here:
http://www.bobkraus.blogspot.com

Notes on Writing

I was re-reading some of my blog posts last night (to get my page views up) when it became apparent that for a guy who's been seriously screwed over, there seems to be a lack of anger in my writing. Where is the righteous outrage that would be expected of a guy who was "done wrong"? Shouldn't I be tossing off caustic bon mots and casual insults left and right?

(This is where I had 5,000 boring, self involved words on why I am so angry.)

Well, no.

New Buddy John turned me on to the following quote from Carrie Fisher: "Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die."

And it makes for terrible writing.

Bob's keys to good writing:

1) Know your audience.  In my case this is easy since I have about five regular readers. Apparently one of whom is my ex-wife!

2) Have something interesting to write about. Up until three months ago I couldn't have filled a pamphlet with my musings on life. To be a good (or great) writer you need to experience pain. Much like the old Chinese curse, you need to "live in interesting times."

If you stop to consider, many (most?) great writers had their own demons. Hunter S. Thompson, Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, William Faulkner. Great writing seems to come with great pain.

***

Ancient Greek drama consisted of three dramatic genres. Tragedy was developed around 550 BC, satyr plays were invented in 501 BC and comedy followed in 486 BC.  Apparently 'satyr plays' were "tragicomedies similar in spirit to modern burlesque that featured choruses of satyrs." No, I didn't know this either. They featured "drunkenness, brazen sexuality, pranks, sight gags and general merriment."

Kind of sounds like the ancient world's Harold and Kumar to me. In fact, it sounds pretty damn entertaining. Sign me up!

FYI - satyrs are the half man / half goat guys that run through the woods playing the pan flute like Zamfir.

And that was my clumsy transition to waste 2,000 words on "Zamfir". Was it obvious?

Am I the only one who remembers Gheorghe Zamfir? "He's sold over 20 million records worldwide." "The master of the pan flute, Gheorghe Zamfir." This commercial was on about every twenty minutes when I came home from school.


Click here to see the commercial!

When I was a kid we only had one channel that showed anything of interest to a nine year old. That was Channel 43. They'd show "The Little Rascals", "The Three Stooges" or Japanese imports about giant flying robots. Like "Johnny Sokko and His Flying Robot."

Fine, I'll link that one too. How did we live before YouTube? And who the heck posts all this old nostalgic garbage anyway?

Click here to see Johnny Sokko in action!

Channel 43 had crappy ratings and the few people who were watching were either senior citizens on fixed incomes or kids like me who had no money and were too young to drive to Parmatown Mall to buy anything - hardly a marketer's wet dream.

"Relax as Zamfir sweeps you away to a world of haunting, tranquil beauty." I can still hear those damn words in my head today. How do you sell 20 million records without your damn record being available in stores? What's Zamfir got against stores? Did he have a bad experience? It's not like they had iTunes back then.

Add this to the growing list of things that piss me off.

Did you know that Zamfir's music was featured extensively in the "The Karate Kid"? The real one, not the one with Will Smith's kid. And Quentin Tarantino's "Kill Bill Vol. 1"? I didn't. I also found out that Zamfir is still alive. He'll be 70 in April. Doesn't the guy in the commercial look a lot older than 40? He would have been only a little over 30 when that thing was taped.

Thank you Wikipedia, or as I call it "Lazy People's Often Inaccurate Research".

Tragedy has fallen out of favor in modern society. Perhaps tragedy appealed to the Greeks due to the difficulty and harshness of life at the time. In our current pampered civilization audiences can't handle bad news. Nowadays if you don't have a happy ending you can pretty much forget about your movie making money. Oscars? Maybe. Money? No way.

Would "Slumdog Millionaire" have been better or worse if they had just given Jamal the beatdown after he answered the final question to win the million rupees? They could have dragged him behind the studio and tossed his ass in a ditch. I don't know if the story would have been better, but I know it would have grossed about $100 million less.

I mean, if your script features Iron Man becoming a drunk, killing his father, marrying his mother and then killing himself after discovering the truth you're going to have a hard time finding financing. Yes, even if Pepper Potts goes topless.

Gwyneth Paltrow is my kind of woman.  37 years old. Hot. Not anorexic. Yeah...


Oh yeah... Those are some great middle aged boobs. This whole diatribe on tragedy was purely to work in Gwyneth Paltrow's boobs. And I am not ashamed.

Great comedy and tragedy come from the same place - fear. We laugh at the things that make us uncomfortable. The best comedy at its root pokes fun at our fears. Why is America's Funniest Home Videos so popular? Because they show at least seven 'nut shots' an episode. Nothing is scarier than taking a shot to the junk, right gentlemen?

Racist jokes? Xenophobia.

AIDS jokes? Fear of death.

Political jokes? Fear of authority.

Gay jokes? Fear of our own homosexual urges. (Not me, of course. I'm talking about everyone else.)

Carrot top? He scares me.

Like it or not, we all fear the loss that comes with divorce. I think this is why my blog has been so effortless. I have a bottomless pit of pain and fear to draw from for both tragedy and comedy. It's my personal key to good writing.

So how much more material do I have? Well, based on recent events, I think I'll have enough pain (tragedy) and fear (comedy) to carry this blog for at least the next six months.

After that, well, I could get used to having nothing to say.

How to Properly Host a Pity Party

I've been a little irritable lately. By "a little irritable" I mean I'm primed and ready to explode. I'm doing all the right things (exercising, eating once in a while, getting at least three hours of sleep a night) yet the stress of "the process" is getting to me.

Earlier this week I inadvertently took out some of my frustration on the Princess of Darkness. The Princess suggested a time limit for my "pity party" and I lost it. Looking at it now, the remark was rather innocuous. I don't believe there was any malice intended, but man did it piss me off.

I responded rather mildly, all things considered. I didn't even drop an F-bomb, which for me is using kid gloves. But I was still wrong. If she ever calls me I probably owe her an apology.

Good thing no one ever calls.

So why does the idea of a "pity party" piss me off so much? Probably because it implies that the guest of honor (me) is a passive observer. I'm a problem solver. Give me any situation and I'll examine the strategic and tactical objectives and quickly develop and implement a plan of action. It might blow up in my face, but I'll damn well go down swinging.

Okay, it often blows up in my face.

I think that's a guy thing. I'm generalizing, but since it's my blog I can pretty much do what I want. Women seem to want to talk about their problems just to talk. Men talk to get solutions.

When a friend says "I can't sleep." I respond "Go see your doctor and get some Xanax." Problem solved, right?

If that friend has a vagina, then no. You fail. Epic fail in fact. You've probably inadvertently pissed her off by telling her what to do.

I was going to say 'boobs', but that can get confusing when you have as many 40 year old male friends as I do. We all have boobs to some degree.

If your friend is a woman, the correct response is probably more like "Why can't you sleep?" Or "What's keeping you up?" or even "Oh, that's terrible. Tell me all about it." I've jacked that one up more times than I care to admit. I fall into this trap with Sister Laurie all the time.

Add it to the list of 'Shit I Learned The Hard Way'.

Sitting passively while things happen around me just isn't my style. I think that is a major cause of the stress I'm feeling about the process. I asked my attorney last week during our lovely face to face "Is there any way to get this moving along?"

His response was pretty simple. "No."

He glanced lovingly at my wallet as he explained that Macomb County has a well defined process and the clock was already running. Everything that is required - Friend of the Court, custody hearings, meetings with the referee and couples counseling was moving forward according to the pre-defined timetable. There was simply nothing for us to do. Well, other than waste money fighting my wife's frivolous motions and filing our own motions to protect my parental and property rights.

Tick-tock cha-ching!

When I'm in my attorney's office all I can think about is how I'm being charged by the minute. My whole goal is to get in and get out as fast as possible. I don't even want to shake his hand. That action alone probably cost me $5.  Our reviews are like some deranged speed dating.

Him "How do you want to respond?"

Me "Tell her no. Next question!"

Him "Do you have any other concerns?"

Me "No! I gave you all my concerns in writing."

Him "Are you sure?"

Me "Yes! Can I go now?"

You would think I had Icy Hot in my undershorts the way I wiggle and squirm in his office.

For those of you who don't live in Michigan, Michigan state law requires a six month waiting period before a divorce can be finalized where minor children are involved. It doesn't matter if you and your wife have agreed to everything right down to the penny. If you have a son who's 17 years 182 days old, you wait six months.

If any of you care about the process in Michigan, it's pretty straightforward. One of the spouses first files a complaint for divorce. Effectively, you are suing your spouse. It's not much different from suing your neighbor over his fence being on your property.

That is followed by the summons. The court assigns a process server to track you down and hand you your divorce papers when you least expect it. This is typically right before your life hits bottom. I suggest you have your friends on speed dial before this point.

After the service, comes discovery. You and your spouse disclose EVERYTHING to your attorneys. Every asset, every tax return, every debt. At this point your attorneys know exactly how much they are going to bill you for. There will be depositions and your spouse will try to present anything and everything to show that you are a total piece of crap that deserves to give her all your money in perpetuity and never be allowed to see your kids without supervision.

During discovery the friend of the court (FOC) will also get involved. The FOC will make recommendations on child custody, child support, visitation and division of property to the judge.

Finally, there will be a hearing. If there are still open issues, the hearing will become a trial. And yes, you can petition for a jury trial in Michigan. I'm not sure why anyone would want to go through a jury trial, but it does happen. At the conclusion of the trial the the judge will enter a judgment for the dissolution of the marriage as well as child custody, support and visitation.

If you still have questions, just Google "Divorce Process in Michigan". You'll get over 5 million results. Really - try it.

There are no shortage of divorce attorneys ready and willing to encourage you to "File first." They'll tell you anything to get you to file. I'll get you the kids! You can keep the house! Yes, I can get him to pay you an obscene amount of spousal support! Sure, I can make your wife wear a scarlet 'A' when she leaves the house! Whatever you want! It's terrible actually. The plain fact of the matter is that it doesn't matter who files first. What does matter is who is willing to compromise their integrity to get what they want. The one who is willing to slither lower will probably be the 'winner'. This is one game where fair play is penalized and being the bigger person only makes you the bigger target.


I'm taking a beating on this one, but I'm leaving with my integrity. It may be all I leave with, but I'm pretty sure I'll be holding my head high at the end.

If there is one thing I haven't done yet, it's been to feel sorry for myself. Frankly, I haven't had time. I feel sorry for my kids and what my soon to be ex-wife is putting them through. I feel sorry for my friends who are putting up with my bullshit.

Sorry friends...

I even feel sorry for my wife. She still has no idea what she has gotten herself into or what is coming her way once this process starts rolling.

But no, I don't feel sorry for myself. Not yet anyway.

Owning Our Choices

My wife didn't leave me because of anything that I did or did not do. There, I said it.

My wife left me because she realized that her life was not living up to her expectations. This was really hard for me to understand or believe. During my 'bargaining' moments, I reasoned that if I could just figure out what it was that I was not providing or where I was failing I could make the change that would bring her back.

You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
You may find yourself in another part of the world
You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
You may ask yourself: well... how did I get here?

Now, keep in mind that I am the same person who was blissfully unaware of my wife's growing dissatisfaction and unhappiness right up to the day she left me. Why would my wife be so dissatisfied? We had the nice house in a nice neighborhood. We had a little money and two great kids. We were living the middle class American dream, right?

Well, not exactly.

I believe my wife woke up one morning and realized that she had achieved everything she thought she wanted in life and found it wasn't nearly as good as she expected. This all occurred shortly after her brother died.

The death of my father was a stressful experience. I can't imagine how it would feel to lose a sibling. When confronted with her own mortality and forced to examine her life I don't believe my ex-wife was satisfied with the person staring back at her. She found a middle aged housewife and mother of two school age kids who was still waiting tables for pocket money. She wasn't successful, she didn't have many friends and she wasn't happy with her appearance. Basically, she found herself in the middle of a classic mid-life crisis.

But enough about my wife's psychology. That could fill an entire post. Back to my favorite topic - me.

I had my own mid-life crisis a few years back. I had similar questions and similar doubts. The difference was that I didn't act on them. It took some time to process, but what I found in the end was that I was pretty darn happy with my life. I loved my wife and kids. I was reasonably satisfied with my job. I was content. In a way, working through my doubts made me value what I had even more.

About two years before most of it disappeared.

You may ask yourself

How do I work this?

You may ask yourself

Where is that large automobile?

You may tell yourself

This is not my beautiful house!

You may tell yourself

This is not my beautiful wife!

Life is like a giant game of Plinko.

Do any of you remember that game from "The Price Is Right"?  The 'contestant' would drop a puck from the top of a peg board. The puck would hit the pegs on the way down, chaotically bouncing left and right and back again as it found its way to the bottom. Depending on where it landed the player could get a big payoff or fifty bucks. It was effectively a random bell curve distribution, but the players would obsess about just where to drop the puck - as if they weren't subject to the laws of Chaos Theory and Brownian Motion like the rest of us.

Humans have a hardwired tendency to believe outside influence overrules random behavior. We think if we do a special dance it will rain. Or if I rub my lucky rabbits foot I'll win at roulette. Or if I wear the same pair of undershorts all season the Browns will win the Superbowl. Or if you pray...


I'll stop there.

We make numerous choices in life that seem random and inconsequential. Each choice takes us down one of two paths. Do I eat that the banana or the donut for breakfast? Do I take Mound Road or Van Dyke to work? Every choice takes us farther down the path. Every day is a potential opportunity. If I don't pick up the phone 17 years ago I never meet or marry my wife. If my Dad doesn't get cancer my wife and I probably never decide to have children.

And on and on and on.

It's the Plinko board theory of life.

You may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
You may ask yourself
Where does that highway lead to?
You may ask yourself
Am I right?... Am I wrong?
You may say to yourself
My God!... what have I done?

So what did I learn?

First, I learned that I am the only person responsible for the choices I made. Would I wish that I could go back 17 years like Marty McFly and tell the young me not to pick up the phone? I don't know. If I did that I would have avoided the pain I'm currently dealing with, but I would have missed out on a lot of great stuff too. Maybe my life would have been better. Maybe my life would have been harder. Who can say? But one thing that would be true - it wouldn't be my life because my life is a result of my choices.

Okay, technically it would still be my life, since it was current me that went back and told young me to not pick up the phone creating a paradox where I never become so unhappy that I want to go back in the first place to tell young me not to pick up the phone.


And this blog has officially jumped the shark.

The Princess of Darkness told me that life is best lived in the present. And I think she's right. Regret doesn't do anyone any favors. I have maybe two regrets in my life and picking up that phone isn't one of them.

No, I made the choices that seemed right at the time. I wish I had won the Showcase instead of the year supply of Rice-A-Roni, but I'm leaving with some great memories, two great kids and a quarter lifetime of experience and growth.

Here's a little secret about the Plinko board of life. In the end, our pucks all fall into the same slot. Whether you are rich as Bill Gates, as smart as Nils Bohr or as dumb as the guy who didn't realize how unhappy his wife was you end up equally dead.

Unless you are Walt Disney or Ted Williams, in which case they freeze your head and reanimate you in the FUTURE!

I can rattle off the platitudes all day - No one gets out alive. You can't take it with you. Life is about the journey, not the destination. Pro infinitio. For better or worse, they were my decisions and I had a hell of a lot of fun making them and came out with some great friends. If I could go back I'd do it all again.

Except for 8th grade - that sucked.

As long as I keep breathing I get to keep making choices. Soon this crappy divorce will be a distant memory and it'll be time for me to get back to living. I say play on!

Lyrics by The Talking Heads

How Long Is Long Enough?

Let's talk about dating. I haven't been on a real date in almost 18 years. And by real date, I mean where the outcome wasn't predetermined. Sure, people go on dates with their spouses, but I'm not talking about (nor interested in) that.

What I'm talking about is a forced meeting with a total stranger where you try your best to make a good impression and not come off as a total gozer or phony. I realize that I am not a classically handsome man. I'm rather average. Not Steve Buscemi ugly, but not the guy that makes the ladies swoon either. My best traits are probably that I'm dependable, responsible and respectful. Great for a Boy Scout or your best friend, but hardly the recipe to charm one's panties off.

I've been single almost three months and I'm starting to be intrigued by the idea of dating, but I can't shake the feeling that it would be 'unfaithful' or 'wrong'. Based on the evidence at hand, my wife certainly doesn't share that opinion, but a promise is a promise, right? It's not the sex that bothers me either. It's the idea of any romantic entanglement that seems like some vague type of betrayal. 

This might be a good time for me to refer back to the title of the blog - LETTING GO? Excuse me while I read my previous post on this very topic.

Thanks, I'm back.

I'm think I'm looking for some outside validation that dating is okay. There should be some authority (Miss Manners, Dear Abby, the Pope) that provides specific, well defined guidance. Sort of like "One should not wear white after Labor Day." Is one week for each year of marriage too short? One month for each year?

I'm not sure I want to be celibate that long.

Like I have a say in the matter? I feel sorry for the first woman who says 'yes'.

I asked Best Friend Brian about this and his advice was pretty straightforward.

"When do you think it's okay for me to start dating?"

 "No."

"What?"

"No."

"But you didn't..."

"No."

I still have no idea.

My friends tell me "You'll know when the time is right." I'm pretty sure this actually means that they don't want to talk about my non-existent sex life and simply want me to go away. Who could blame them? I don't even want to talk about this stuff - it's why I started this stupid blog.

Prior to meeting my wife I was pretty much inept around women. When I see guys I would characterize as 'players' I am somewhat in awe of their ability to say whatever is required to close the deal. I have trouble pretending to be someone I am not. I'm also a really terrible liar. I was at a bar last week with Caprini having a beer - and avoiding going home to my soon to be ex-wife. Caprini is a little older than me and a little better looking and was totally hitting on our bartender (who was 23). Now granted, this girl (and if you're 23, to me you are a 'girl', sorry ladies) works for tips and has to be nice to guys like my friend.  But the thing was, even though he was probably twice her age, I got the vibe that if he really wanted to, he could have 'bought her breakfast'.

I was appalled. Probably because I'm a Boy Scout. But I would prefer women who are closer to my own age, if I get a choice.

When I was younger I was also incapable of picking up on clues from women as to their inclinations. If an opportunity could be missed, I was there. Do any of you remember the classic 1991 Seinfeld episode "The Phone Message"? That was me. Literally, upon seeing the episode one of my friends called me.

Click here to see a clip from the episode!

"Hey, remember that chick Heather who invited you to her apartment for coffee after the Homecoming party?"

"Yeah."

"And you said 'No thanks, coffee keeps me up'?"

"Yeah."

"Jerry Seinfeld just ripped you off."

There was also the time when a cute (really cute, actually) friend from Speaker's Board called to tell me she had just stepped out of the shower and thought there was a prowler in her apartment. I believe her name was Jennifer.

"I'm scared. I think there's someone here."

"Um, why are you calling me? Shouldn't you be calling the police?"

"Well, I'm not sure. Can't you come over and check?"

"I could, but in the ten minutes it'll take for me to get there you could be raped and killed. You should really call the cops."

"Please? I'm only wearing a towel."

"Okay, fine. But if you get killed it's not my fault."

*** That's pretty much the exact conversation. No shit. Brian was there. ***


I doubt my closing skills have improved in the last eighteen years, but perhaps middle aged women are more desperate or easy since they are so much closer to death. I can only hope. If you know any desperate or easy single women, please send them my contact info. I'm free Monday through Thursday, but I'll make time on the weekends.

Just don't tell Best Friend Brian.

You've Got to Play the Cards You're Dealt

Last week I was invited to Mark Giaco's (not his real name) almost annual Labor Day poker party. Mark is the oldest brother of my kids' godfather, Uncle Dave. Mark is a real man's man - not a pussy like me and my friends who grew up in the '80s. Mark came of age in the 70's. He was the guy I wanted to be when I was 13 years old - except 50 pounds lighter and much, much more handsome (me, that is). When I was growing up, Mark had it all - the long hair, the jet black Camaro and he always wore a killer black leather vest with bell bottoms. Think Freddie Prinze or a young John Travolta. But uglier, of course.

Mark's party attracts the same band of misfits and malcontents pretty much every year. We all have a great time and since Mark and his friends are terrible poker players it doesn't cost me much money. But this year was a little different. Sitting at the table I realized there were nine divorces between the eight guys that showed up. On the one hand I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, how else would eight guys have a free evening on a Sunday night? But on the other I realized how common divorce really is.

At first, the thought of nine divorces was unsettling. Does any marriage really stand a chance? Of the eight guys, the two Giaco brothers are both still on their first marriages (nice job!). That left six of us. We had one three-time loser, two two-timers, one one-timer and me. The new guy joining the club. Those are some really crappy odds.

I did very little research and found the following at 'divorcestatistics.org'.

For American marriages:

          Marriage:                         Divorce Statistics:
          First Marriage                 45% to 50% end in divorce
          Second Marriage             60% to 67% end in divorce
          Third Marriage               70% to 73% end in divorce
          Source of Divorce Statistics: Jennifer Baker, Forest Institute of Professional Psychology,Springfield

Yikes! Who in their right mind gets married a third time knowing there is a 70% chance you'll get divorced? If I told you I'll give you ten dollars but there is a 72% chance that I'm going to poke you in the eye really, really hard and take all your money you'd tell me to get bent. But it's painfully obvious that in 21st century America multiple marriage is becoming common.

That led me to thinking about the affect of religion on divorce rates. I'd heard anecdotal evidence supporting the theory the "the family that prays together stays together". And Lord knows there are literally hundreds of people praying for me.

I've been the hot topic in Mrs. Turner's prayer group more than once.

So what are the facts?

We'll once again I did as little research as possible and stumbled across Religious Tolerance.org, an Ontario based group that does religious comparison.  You can find their article at http://www.religioustolerance.org/chr_dira.htm.  I've cherry picked a few of the best parts.

         Religion                   % Have Been Divorced
         Jewish                                       30%
         Born-Again Christians            27%
         Other Christians                      24%
         Atheists, Agnostics                   21%

Wha wha wha??? Atheists and agnostics have the lowest divorce rate? These statistics must be flawed right? The data was collected by the Barna Research Group and was released Dec 1999 from a study of 3,854 adults from all 48 contiguous states. The margin of error is +/- 2 percentage points. Yikes. Sounds sort of scientifically valid.

So what does it mean? Well, here's one viewpoint:

Ron Barrier, Spokesperson for American Atheists said:

"These findings confirm what I have been saying these last five years. Since Atheist ethics are of a higher caliber than religious morals, it stands to reason that our families would be dedicated more to each other than to some invisible monitor in the sky.  With Atheism, women and men are equally responsible for a healthy marriage.  There is no room in Atheist ethics for the type of 'submissive' nonsense preached by Baptists and other Christian and/or Jewish groups.  Atheists reject, and rightly so, the primitive patriarchal attitudes so prevalent in many religions with respect to marriage."

As an Atheist, I'm slightly embarrassed. I doubt my "morals" are of any higher caliber. I think it is more likely that Atheists might be more practical and self-sufficient than the general population. We can't depend on some outside entity to solve our problems and tend to our needs. Also, I think the critical thinking required to be an Atheist may lend itself to better decision making up front and a greater likelihood to accept reality (as opposed to denial). The Cincinnati Rambler made a great point that perhaps Atheists and Agnostics see less pressure to get married and perhaps co-habitate, skewing the numbers.

Or God hates Christians. That would be so cool.

Among self-identified religious Christians it's even more interesting.

        Denomination                % Who Have Been Divorced
        Non-Denominational                          34%
        Baptists                                                29%
        Mainline Protestants                          25%
        Mormons                                             24%
        Catholics                                              21%
        Lutherans                                            21%

The non-denominational are Evangelical Conservative Christians. You know, the ones who "know it all" and hate abortion, Democrats and gays? Those guys. Apparently conservative Evangelical ministries are simply not very good at ministering to families. They talk a good game, but they don't provide the practical support that the Lutheran or Catholic churches provide.

On the other hand, the Catholics may actually be on to something. Their divorce rate is identical to Atheists and Agnostics. This supports my suspicion that the majority of American Catholics are actually closeted agnostics bowing to family pressure. Catholic Social Services does try their very best to help families and children in trouble and this particular statistic supports their efforts.

What does any of this have to do with the poker game? Like all members of the shit sandwich club, the guys were generally supportive and understanding. They offered the same encouragement and hope for the future that I've heard a hundred times. Joe Faga (name changed) even offered to give me a hand-job to cheer me up. Thankfully, I wasn't that sad or that drunk.

We've reached the point where I tell you what I learned from this little exercise. We all have to play the cards we are dealt. At its heart marriage is a crap shoot. You can make all the right decisions and play all your cards perfectly and still lose. There are happy, successful Evangelical Christian families and bitter divorced Atheists (like me). You need brains, but you also need a little luck.

One hopeful thought I want to leave you with is that Jim Grodzicki has been happily married for over 30 years after his second divorce. Perhaps some people just take longer to get it right. Or perhaps you can't be afraid to go all-in even after losing a couple pots.

Thanks again for a great evening Mark.

So, Why'd You Name this Lame Blog "Letting Go"?

Yeah, why "Letting Go?" Why not something clever?

For me, "Letting Go" has been the single hardest part of my divorce. I find myself wrestling with it almost every day. In my brain and even in my heart I understand and accept that a significant phase of my life is over (and it's never coming back). But the familiarity is still there. Have you ever found yourself unconsciously driving to work on a Saturday morning when you're supposed to be taking the kids to swimming lessons or soccer practice? It's more muscle memory than any conscious decision. For fifteen years I lived, ate, slept and loved a certain way. That changed forever on August 24th when I was served my divorce papers. Yet I still find myself falling into old patterns. It could be as simple as seeing an ad in a magazine and thinking "Gina would like that", or picking up the phone to ask her to pick up a prescription from Target.

Before realizing the only thing she'd bring me is poison.

The thing you have to understand is that I was genuinely happy before my divorce. I loved being married and I loved my wife. Unfortunately, a big contributor to my happiness was probably a general obliviousness to the unhappiness of my ex-wife. I'm not saying I was responsible for her unhappiness - I think I was probably one of the few good things in her life. What I am saying is that I should have at least recognized her unhappiness. I'm not known as being particularly "observant" when it comes to members of the opposite sex. Imagine a drunk trying to find his keys in the dark after being pepper-sprayed. That's me.

Oh, the stories I could tell...

I often thought about installing a sandwich board near the front door that my ex-wife could have posted important events that needed my attention. Things like "new haircut yesterday" or "our anniversary is tomorrow". It probably wouldn't have saved our marriage but it might have saved me a lot of grief. My oversight wasn't due to selfishness or self involvement either - I've occasionally forgotten my own birthday. It's not intentional, it's just a problem with my wiring. The two most important days of my life were probably the births of my children, yet Tuesday when filling out their paperwork for school I had to stop and think to remember their birthdays.

I then confirmed them on my divorce papers.  Only thing they've been good for.

When your wife has made it clear that she no longer wishes to be married (for instance, by having you served divorce papers) it's difficult to accept. I think the five stages of grief are crap pop psychology, but may be appropriate in this instance. If you took Psych 101 you know that in 1969 Elisabeth Kubler-Ross published the five stage grief model. The model proposes that grief occurs in five distinct stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. My problem with the model is that it is overly simplistic and implies a linear approach to the process of grief. In my personal experience (here we go...) grief is more complex. I feel the stages are indistinct and non-linear. Often I jump from one stage to another (and back) all in the same paragraph. To me, it appears much more fluid than the sharply delineated process Kubler-Ross proposed.

But then again, my scientific background in psychology extends all the way through Psych 102.  So I might be mistaken.

In many ways being rejected by your spouse is worse than his or her death. If your spouse dies you don't sit alone at night wondering what (if anything) you did to deserve this. Your dead relative won't continue to lie to you. Instead of losing half of your stuff you get life insurance. And best of all, you get the satisfaction of knowing that you both fulfilled your wedding vows instead of falling into easily broken promises. What I am trying to say is that divorce is by its nature a divisive, painful process that takes time. From what I've learned, a lot of time. For men the average appears to be one to three years, for women slightly longer.

I named this blog "Letting Go" for the simple reason that it's my objective for this whole process. I'm entering a new phase of life that offers new challenges and new rewards. I want to be ready to take advantage of every opportunity that presents itself. I want to grow and become the best Bob Kraus possible. Think Lloyd Dobler after he got the pen from Diane Court in 'Say Anything'.

And the only way to do any of that is for me to learn to "Let Go".

Wow, My Writing Is Total Crap

Don't waste your time with this piece of crap blog. Check this post out. It's what my blog would look like if I had more talent and command of the English language.

http://john-hnat.blogspot.com/2010/09/you-said-it-don.html

Thankfully, most of his other posts are pedestrian and boring. Otherwise I would just throw up my hands and quit.

Four Pound Shit Sandwich

One of my favorite analogies for divorce is that it's like being handed a four pound shit sandwich and being expected to finish the whole thing. It takes a long time and the bites don't taste any better the farther you go.

Right now I've probably chewed through the first couple mouthfuls, and I have to say it's been no picnic. Anger, pain, loneliness, regret and frustration mix together in every bite, and the finish has just a hint of disappointment. But you get to wash it down with sleepless nights, tension headaches and sexual frustration - if you're a prude like me. Right now the line in Vegas is 3:2 on me ever having sex again.

With a woman...

Without payment...

Yeah, the odds are pretty attractive.

The only upside is that the four pound divorce special pretty much takes care of any actual appetite - for food. For those of you that know me, I love to eat. But since my wife left I've lost almost 50 pounds. Divorce is better than Zumba if you're only focused on weight loss. I mean, three pants sizes in two months? It only sounds like an infomercial because it is. If Billy Mays was alive I'm sure he'd be pushing it.

The odds in Vegas just improved - I have to quit blogging about my weight loss.

Also contributing to my weight loss, I've found a good cry can quickly elevate the pulse to my target heart rate. I suppose you can count it towards your daily workout as 'cardio'.

Odds back down.  They realized I'm a huge pussy.

For me, the key to survival has been staying connected. Like any good meal, the shit sandwich is best shared with good friends and interesting companions. I've been fortunate to have shared the company of both during my journey. Sure, no rational person wants to hear about your divorce, but if your friends care about you they'll gladly share a meal. Okay, a few bites.  I recommend you spread the misery around - even the most steadfast friend has limits. When they stop returning your calls, you can be pretty sure they're full.

One surprising area of support has been perfect strangers who have gone through divorce. I think divorce may be similar to war. It doesn't matter where you've served, once you've been through the shit you're all veterans. And like war, you can't have one without casualties or collateral damage. Fellow divorcees have been surprisingly open and honest about the process and their personal mistakes or shortcomings. I think they understand the level of suck in a way happily (or unhappily) married people never will and I believe there is a growth process that can't be avoided.

Well, unless you're a total self-involved douche bag.  Like [censored].

One thing I would recommend to anyone going through 'the process' is to find and join a "Newly Divorced" support group. I found one on 'meetup.com' called 'Transitions'. It was a little scary, but quite rewarding once I talked myself out of the car. As my friend Brian said "If there is ANYONE who understands what you are going through, it's those people." I let the "those people" comment slide, but I'm beginning to think he may be abruptiophobic.

I think it's natural to think your divorce is special - that nobody has ever been screwed over quite as hard or quite as undeservedly as you. Well I'm here to tell you that you are full of shit. No matter how hard or how long you've been screwed by the rhinoceros dick of life (thanks John), there is at least one poor sap that got it worse. And I found him, but that will be a story for another post. Maybe. Feel free to post your own "biggest sap" story in the comments section. If I get more than one I might compile them.

Who are you kidding?  If you get one you'll need a tissue.

Finishing my shit sandwich is going to be unpleasant and difficult, but I'm convinced that if I stay focused, fulfill my responsibilities to my children and maintain my integrity I'll come out on the other end healthier and stronger than I entered. And I may just learn a little something along the way.

In the Beginning...

Greetings and salutations!

It's official - the blog fad is over. If anyone other than me is reading this, color me genuinely surprised. I figure in the life of this enterprise I'll get about five hits. And all will be from Google web crawlers.

So why blog?  Well, I'm in the process of an ugly, painful divorce and I need a creative outlet. I could study painting, photography or sculpture; but those cost money. One certainty of divorce is that it will take your money about six months after it takes your dignity. So I'm left with blogging.

My objective for this blog is to present my personal failure and pain for your general amusement. Like it or not, when it comes to divorce you need to laugh before you cry. This is my lame attempt to find a silver lining in the giant shit sandwich life has dealt me. Think of this as public therapy, but without the public participation. And if this indirectly helps anyone else going through a divorce I won't be upset.

At the request of my lawyer, I'd like to leave you with the necessary legal disclaimer. Everything here is fiction. None of these people are real and I made it all up. Any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental - especially the stuff about my ex-wife.