Okay, here a few more suggested by my loyal readers:
"Thank God and Greyhound (You're Gone)" Roy Clark
This song does nothing for me. It might be the fact that it's a country tune, but I think that for me the lyrics don't really ring true. It doesn't feel like it was written by someone who was emotionally invested. There's about as much feeling as someone saying "I'll call you" after a one night stand. I think it's more likely someone imagining what a breakup might have felt like.
"Somebody That I Used To Know" Gotye
This is a good one. I feel find of silly for leaving it off the list. In fact, this one would probably be in the top five if I had to force rank them right now. I love the imagery in this song. The sadness in his voice feels real, palpable and raw. What an interesting artistic choice to have the ex's response, and to have the author come off as the jerk. It makes the feeling all the more real. The video is pretty good too.
"Gives You Hell" The All-American Rejects
It's a catchy tune with a cute video, but it doesn't really connect with me. The author seems to have made his happiness dependent on his ex's unhappiness or regret. If you are waiting for an ex to "wake the fuck up" and regret leaving you, you'd better pack a lunch, cause it ain't happening. That's a recipe for a long unhappy life.
More to come...
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Ten Breakup Songs
When is the best time to write? Pretty much anytime you want to procrastinate from the "real work".
How about those Indians?
Growing up in Parma, I've got no expectation of a Cleveland World Championship in anything other than economic contraction or population flight. One thing I've learned in my 42 years is "Cleveland sports teams will always break my heart".
But this season for the Tribe is just pure torture. Obviously at some point I stopped watching as they continue to play out the string. But now I'm having trouble even getting through the box scores. The games are boring and the quality of the baseball being played is terrible. Bad pitching, average defense and a lineup that is about three players deep. How did the wheels fall off so quickly? And how do I generate any hope for next year? They need (at a minimum) two starting pitchers and three position players to be five-hundred. Even Mike Ilitch doesn't have pockets that deep. And that's assuming Masterson, McAllister and Kluber are viable Major League starting pitchers, which may be a stretch. Maybe they get Carrasco back from Tommy John, but then what? Sign Greinke?
As for the position players, at a minimum they need a left fielder, first baseman and a designated hitter. If I'm the GM for the Tribe, I trade Asdrubal Cabrera this off season. His value will never be higher and they have ample shortstop prospects behind him in the minors. Customers are paying full price for their tickets. Why shouldn't they get to see Francisco Lindor right now? Or Ronnie Rodriguez?
At least I've got the Browns.
Time to change the subject.
...
I'm in the middle of painting the trim on the house.
And putting it off while I write this.
My home is mostly brick and vinyl, but as is the custom this decade, the trim and soffits are wood. And that wood needs to be painted every eight to ten years. Or it rots.
I've lived here eight years (hard to believe) and it's overdue. The existing builder grade paint was probably shot two years ago, but with the divorce and associated personal and financial upheaval I put it off. This summer I couldn't put it off any more. One small section on the front porch rotted and I knew if I didn't do it now, I'd be replacing a lot more of it next year.
So I called by good friend BLT (who owes me a few favors) and we got to work Labor Day weekend. What I didn't realize until after that fact was BLT was afraid of heights. From his Facebook page:
"I started on the low part of the garage 2/3 up a 6ft (?) Ladder, working over my head. A little scary, but ok. Took a little break while Bob set up the big one to get the first 3rd done. Paint in one hand, kung-fu grip with the other I made it to the top and concentrated on the work, took my mind off the rest for a bit. Once down, I helped Bob extend the ladder all the way. I did my best to casually ask if everything was safe, he said yes, I know he would never put me at risk, so I believed him. I felt myself, and the ladder shaking as I went up, but focused on the roof as I went. By the time I got there I was genuinely scared, but decided to keep my mouth shut and do the job I came to do and not focus on what was flashing through my mind every step of the way, though I did jokingly say my insurance card was in my wallet. By this point Bob had walked away to get back to work and I was perched maybe 25ft (Bob?) up in the air working over my head. I made sure to get every last spot done perfectly, I was not getting back up there to fix anything. Getting down is the worst part, since I have to look down, I was in full panic, but just went one step at a time. Once down, I took a break, and tried to cover my tracks by fiddling with my phone, some sun screen, took some pics. When Bob helped me move the ladder back down he told me what a great job I was doing, which gave me the strength to brave the last few trips up and down. He said thanks, everything looked good, I kept my mouth shut and everybody moved on. I was proud of both the work I did, and dealing with my bullshit, but the unknowing support and confidence of my best friend made it all possible."
I didn't realize it at the time, but that's some impressive shit. He was about 25 feet up and finished the entire front of the garage. And it looks great. Thank you.
And now I feel really guilty for procrastinating.
...
I've been working on a list of my ten favorite breakup songs for the better part of the last two years. Not because I'm indecisive or that the task is particularly hard.
Pretty much all I have to do is organize my iTunes account by "Plays" and exclude the kid's songs.
But mostly because I'm easily distracted.
I wanted to call this these the "Ten Greatest Breakup Songs" but I'm not much of a critic, it's not like I've listened to every song ever recorded and a lot of these songs objectively aren't really all that good. This list is almost guaranteed to change in six months when the next great breakup song hits my iPhone. I will say that these ten songs all mean something to me. They all have a personal connection to something in my life either through the lyrics or a time in my life I (for some reason) associate with the song. I listen to them to remind me of better times, to pick the scabs of my failures, to find perspective or to remind me that there is always hope.
But the Johnny Cash version is even better. It's an incredibly depressing song to open a playlist. The message is that everything in life ends. It's from the point of view of a junkie, but is really about mortality. Every birth is a future death. Every marriage ends in sadness - divorce or death - pick one.
This one is just for fun. My favorite band singing about a cheating spouse. "She used to be pretty, but now she's just pretty fucked up". So true. After any breakup it should be required listening.
I'm not sure that this is even a breakup song, except for the lyric "of the things I miss". But it reminds me of days spent in college on the world's ugliest couch with the Princess of Darkness. So I guess for me personally it's a little bit about loss.
Is there any better song about a cheating spouse? It's about as deep as Kim Kardashian, but infectiously fun. I suppose it's been a little overplayed since last summer, but I still like it.
This is the most personal song on the list. "If someone said three years from now you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them in the mouth." That's pretty much exactly how I felt when I got my divorce papers. Shock, surprise and disappointment. I still can't listen to this song without tearing up. It takes me right back to that day.
This song rocks, but I'm not sure even Bob Mould is 100% sure about the lyrics. To me, it's about the anger and resentment associated with a breakup. "How could you do this to me?" It's cathartic for me to listen to this song.
Cheesiest song on the list, but I like it for the message of empowerment. Just because someone else doesn't want what you're selling doesn't make it worthless.
I don't think anybody does "breakup" better than Alanis Morissette. If you're a single guy and a friend tries to set you up with Ms. Morissette, run away. You don't want your breakup to be immortalized in coffee shops across the world. This particular song is about the regret associated with a breakup. It reminds me that not only did I lose my money and my stuff in my divorce, I also lost my best friend.
This is my current favorite breakup song. "All of our bridges burned down." True. "All those fairy tales are full of shit." Check. "You turned your back on tomorrow because you forgot yesterday." Oh yeah. "It's hard to remember the people we used to be." The funny thing is that my kids love this song and it tears my guts out every time I hear it. Sometimes I wonder if they even understand the lyrics. I'm pretty sure they only like it for the melody, but I could be wrong.
Another favorite song of my kids. The lyrics are extremely obtuse, but to me this song is about mortality. The allusion to a king being deposed and the loss of authority or power. Castles built on sand. Numerous Christian references. And that beautiful string section.
That's ten. Subject to change of course.
Special bonus song:
Best revenge song ever!
Sunday, August 26, 2012
The Role I Was Born To Play
Talk about coincidence. I finally got the comment filter on Blogger fixed and look what popped in last night from the Professor:
"If you want to work on your bucket list, I'm set to get my first IMDB recognition for directing for a short film. The main role is cast but the three remaining characters are listed as Jerk 1, Jerk 2, and Jerk 3. Maybe it's karma. It's probably going to be filmed around Hamilton if you're interested."
Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
I've been training my whole life for this chance. All the Italian jokes I took beatings for between 1976 and 1987. Captain Kirk's virginity. Doli Madison's minor weight problem. Gay baiting Stace for the better part of 20 years. Too many insults to even record or remember.
The whole crowd goes so loud
I'm minor league compared to that jerk hall of fame. I left off at least 50 Cincinnati jerks because I got tired of typing.
He won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that, but he's broke
He's so stagnant, he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again, yo
This whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him
Assuming the timing works out, which role should I apply for? Jerk 1 is too obvious. Jerk 2 is redundant. Jerk 3 has questionable motivations. Should I play all three roles like Adam Sandler or Eddie Murphy would? I'm willing to go drag, for purely artistic purposes of course.
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
(You better)
Face it, at this point this is just a flimsy excuse to steal Eminem's lyrics.
(Yeah, he stopped trying three paragraphs ago.)
The soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, only grows hotter
He blows us all over these hoes is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows
I wonder what the casting couch is like when you're auditioning to be a jerk? Do I have to make the producer feel bad about himself? Cause for that I should just have sex with him.
He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da
If the timing works out, I'll be reporting from the set of the next blockbuster straight to download short film. I hope this happens, cause it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.
You can do anything you set your mind to, man
I sure hope so Marshall.
"If you want to work on your bucket list, I'm set to get my first IMDB recognition for directing for a short film. The main role is cast but the three remaining characters are listed as Jerk 1, Jerk 2, and Jerk 3. Maybe it's karma. It's probably going to be filmed around Hamilton if you're interested."
Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted in one moment
Would you capture it or just let it slip?
This is the role I was born to play.
His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down,
I've been training my whole life for this chance. All the Italian jokes I took beatings for between 1976 and 1987. Captain Kirk's virginity. Doli Madison's minor weight problem. Gay baiting Stace for the better part of 20 years. Too many insults to even record or remember.
The whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up over, bloah!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no
But what if I'm not up to it? What if there are even bigger and better jerks in Cincinnati? What kind of jerks come from Cincinnati?
Jerry Springer, inventor of white trash TV and noted prostitute check writer
Carmen Electra, media whore
John Boehner, Speaker of the House and noted obstructionist
Chad Ochocinco, football whore
Sam Wyche, former coach of the Bengals who told a rioting crowd "they weren't in Cleveland"
Nick Lachey, wife of Jessica Simpson
Simon Leis, famous cock block who prosecuted Larry Flint
Pete Rose, liar and gambler
Sarah Jessica Parker, horse-faced creator of worst TV show in history
Charles Keating, creator of the original savings and loan scandal
Marge Schott, colorful owner of the Reds who rubbed dog hair on her players for luck
Ted Turner, ex-husband of Jane Fonda and founder of CNN and TNT
I'm minor league compared to that jerk hall of fame. I left off at least 50 Cincinnati jerks because I got tired of typing.
He won't have it , he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that, but he's broke
He's so stagnant, he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again, yo
This whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him
Assuming the timing works out, which role should I apply for? Jerk 1 is too obvious. Jerk 2 is redundant. Jerk 3 has questionable motivations. Should I play all three roles like Adam Sandler or Eddie Murphy would? I'm willing to go drag, for purely artistic purposes of course.
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime yo
(You better)
Face it, at this point this is just a flimsy excuse to steal Eminem's lyrics.
(Yeah, he stopped trying three paragraphs ago.)
The soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, only grows hotter
He blows us all over these hoes is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows
I wonder what the casting couch is like when you're auditioning to be a jerk? Do I have to make the producer feel bad about himself? Cause for that I should just have sex with him.
He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da
If the timing works out, I'll be reporting from the set of the next blockbuster straight to download short film. I hope this happens, cause it sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.
You can do anything you set your mind to, man
I sure hope so Marshall.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
It's Been a Long Time
It's been almost a year since I wrote anything, but it seems like the blink of an eye. So what's changed?
Well, I appear to have developed balistophobia, the debilitating fear of missile silos. Yet somehow I still make it through the day. Think I can get a medical marijuana certificate for it?
Other than that, not much and everything.
"Not much" in the sense that I still have the same house, the same job and haven't crossed a damn thing off my bucket list. I'm beginning to wonder whether I was full of shit when I wrote it, or if I'm just a big pussy.
"Everything" in the sense that I've sort of moved on and found someone new.
The phase "sort of" deserves an entire blog post. I've moved on to the degree that I think I am capable. It would be akin to a drummer losing an arm. Life isn't over, he just needs to find a different career. Or not...
What I'm trying to say is that I've lost my naive innocence regarding relationships. The last time it was inconceivable to me that any "real" marriage could fail. Hardly anyone I knew had ever been divorced, and for "those people" there were obvious explanations - infidelity, alcohol, a lack of commitment from the beginning. That wasn't me. Or any of my friends. They were different. I was different. We jumped in headfirst - damn the depth of the river.
The second time around there's a vague awareness in the back of your mind that you're not special. You know exactly how bad it can end and how quickly it can turn. And because of that, you're extremely reticent to go "all in". It's not like you've got one foot out the door, but you always know where the nearest fire extinguisher is.
Based on what I've read, this is pretty typical. It's the baggage that everyone who goes through a divorce carries with them. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and I'm ready to sue.
In fact, "moving on" was the one major reason I stopped posting. When I started this blog I had nothing to lose. I was so embarrassed and shamed by my divorce that there wasn't anything that I wasn't willing to write about and share with total strangers. It was "public therapy", a semi-safe place to work out all of the pain, anger, shame and rage that was eating me alive. I was at my lowest point, so the thought of people pointing and laughing at my failures didn't really bother me. Or the fact they would be preserved for eternity where prospective employers and my kid's friends could review and comment.
Granted, I wasn't really taking the "long view" at the time.
Last year I got to a place where I no longer felt it was appropriate to share every random embarrassing thought that popped into my head. I felt it would be a terrible invasion of privacy to blog or write about anyone I was dating, even though the stories would have been great. The potential of being seen with me in public can be embarrassing enough. Having it posted where her parents, kids, friends or husband could see it is just wrong.
Once that filter went up my writing became banal bullshit and I stopped posting any of it. I have 14 semi-finished posts that will never see the light of Google. They all started with a spark of clever inspiration. They all ended with bullshit generalities, platitudes and a lack of any true "feeling."
Granted, it's not like I set the literary bar very high, but if I couldn't control my gag reflex for three paragraphs I doubt any of you would give a shit.
So what's new? Well, my girlfriend is moving in next month.
I'll let that one settle in for a minute.
Yes, I am scared out of my mind. I'm not sure I should be writing about any of this, and if / when she sees this the move may be cancelled. But I've got to work this stuff out, and I don't have time for therapy.
I'm better as part of a team. BLT says that I always wanted to be married. I think he's right. I like being part of a team. I like the support. I like the feeling I get when I can help someone else. Even when I was going through the divorce, I was absolutely certain I would eventually get married again, even if intellectually I was telling myself "Oh hell no".
The woman I have been seeing is wonderful. She's kind, supportive, thoughtful, smart, attractive, progressive, exciting, active, funny, great with my kids and more than willing to put up with me.
You're probably thinking she's perfect, well I'm here to tell you "far from it". She can't make a decision, thinks sleeping to 10:00 AM is acceptable behavior, says Corgi's aren't real dogs and doesn't hate Jhonny Peralta anywhere near enough for my taste. Basically, she's a basket case.
So why am I scared shitless? Because I'm afraid that I didn't learn enough from my divorce. I'm pretty sure I'm a jerk. I try not to be, but it comes so naturally. It's a gift. Or a curse. Now sure, a few of you will feign disbelief and say "Oh no, you're just being a drama king Bob." Thank you for trying to soften the blow. I'm sure a few of you even said that with a straight face, but we all know it's true. I'm a jerk.
Do any of you have a Facebook page dedicated to how big of a jerk you are? I do. For real. And it wasn't even started by The Ex. If you count the Ex's Facebook page, it's actually two pages dedicated to how much of an asshole I am.
I know it's not unusual for children to have contentious relationships with their parents. But I've managed to become estranged from not one, but two mothers. Yes, the people who are hormonally evolved and socially conditioned to nurture and protect their young both think I am a jerk. Granted, one of them is mentally ill and the other is biologically related to me (which is a reasonable excuse I suppose), but still. You couple that with my sociopathic Ex and you can see that I may have problems with women.
Once is bad luck. Twice is a coincidence. Three times and it's probably your fault.
What happens when my girlfriend realizes that she's living with a jerk? Hopefully she's less sociopathic than my ex, but then again what if I'm just a horrible judge of character? It's not as if rapists and serial killers introduce themselves with their chosen avocation while announcing their intention to gut and skin you for sport.
"You got a pretty mouth boy."
"Um, thanks... I gotta go. Bye."
If only it was that easy.
So what do our friends think? Most of them say it's "too early". But when asked "How long would be long enough?" they shrug.
Twelve months? Eighteen months? Six years? I don't know either. People in arranged marriages may only meet one or two times prior to their wedding and yet statistically they are very successful. According to multiple sites, the global divorce rate for arranged marriages is only 6%! Now granted, there are numerous caveats to that statistic since it is heavily culturally biased. It doesn't consider the impact of familial shame, the poor economic prospects for women in countries that favor arranged marriage or local laws prohibiting divorce.
But believe it or not, November will mark two years that my girlfriend and I have known each other. That's a significant amount of time. It's longer than I knew my ex-wife before we moved in together. In fact, by the two year mark we were engaged and well into planning our wedding.
I know full well this could turn out to be a flipping disaster to rival the last one. But it could also be a wonderful start to a new life together. In life there are no guarantees and no one knows how this is going to end. But I know that I'm a lot happier when I'm with her. So nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I'm going to jump in that river again, even if this time I'm keeping one eye on the life preserver. Wish me luck.
Well, I appear to have developed balistophobia, the debilitating fear of missile silos. Yet somehow I still make it through the day. Think I can get a medical marijuana certificate for it?
Other than that, not much and everything.
"Not much" in the sense that I still have the same house, the same job and haven't crossed a damn thing off my bucket list. I'm beginning to wonder whether I was full of shit when I wrote it, or if I'm just a big pussy.
"Everything" in the sense that I've sort of moved on and found someone new.
The phase "sort of" deserves an entire blog post. I've moved on to the degree that I think I am capable. It would be akin to a drummer losing an arm. Life isn't over, he just needs to find a different career. Or not...
What I'm trying to say is that I've lost my naive innocence regarding relationships. The last time it was inconceivable to me that any "real" marriage could fail. Hardly anyone I knew had ever been divorced, and for "those people" there were obvious explanations - infidelity, alcohol, a lack of commitment from the beginning. That wasn't me. Or any of my friends. They were different. I was different. We jumped in headfirst - damn the depth of the river.
The second time around there's a vague awareness in the back of your mind that you're not special. You know exactly how bad it can end and how quickly it can turn. And because of that, you're extremely reticent to go "all in". It's not like you've got one foot out the door, but you always know where the nearest fire extinguisher is.
Based on what I've read, this is pretty typical. It's the baggage that everyone who goes through a divorce carries with them. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice and I'm ready to sue.
In fact, "moving on" was the one major reason I stopped posting. When I started this blog I had nothing to lose. I was so embarrassed and shamed by my divorce that there wasn't anything that I wasn't willing to write about and share with total strangers. It was "public therapy", a semi-safe place to work out all of the pain, anger, shame and rage that was eating me alive. I was at my lowest point, so the thought of people pointing and laughing at my failures didn't really bother me. Or the fact they would be preserved for eternity where prospective employers and my kid's friends could review and comment.
Granted, I wasn't really taking the "long view" at the time.
Last year I got to a place where I no longer felt it was appropriate to share every random embarrassing thought that popped into my head. I felt it would be a terrible invasion of privacy to blog or write about anyone I was dating, even though the stories would have been great. The potential of being seen with me in public can be embarrassing enough. Having it posted where her parents, kids, friends or husband could see it is just wrong.
Once that filter went up my writing became banal bullshit and I stopped posting any of it. I have 14 semi-finished posts that will never see the light of Google. They all started with a spark of clever inspiration. They all ended with bullshit generalities, platitudes and a lack of any true "feeling."
Granted, it's not like I set the literary bar very high, but if I couldn't control my gag reflex for three paragraphs I doubt any of you would give a shit.
So what's new? Well, my girlfriend is moving in next month.
I'll let that one settle in for a minute.
Yes, I am scared out of my mind. I'm not sure I should be writing about any of this, and if / when she sees this the move may be cancelled. But I've got to work this stuff out, and I don't have time for therapy.
I'm better as part of a team. BLT says that I always wanted to be married. I think he's right. I like being part of a team. I like the support. I like the feeling I get when I can help someone else. Even when I was going through the divorce, I was absolutely certain I would eventually get married again, even if intellectually I was telling myself "Oh hell no".
The woman I have been seeing is wonderful. She's kind, supportive, thoughtful, smart, attractive, progressive, exciting, active, funny, great with my kids and more than willing to put up with me.
You're probably thinking she's perfect, well I'm here to tell you "far from it". She can't make a decision, thinks sleeping to 10:00 AM is acceptable behavior, says Corgi's aren't real dogs and doesn't hate Jhonny Peralta anywhere near enough for my taste. Basically, she's a basket case.
So why am I scared shitless? Because I'm afraid that I didn't learn enough from my divorce. I'm pretty sure I'm a jerk. I try not to be, but it comes so naturally. It's a gift. Or a curse. Now sure, a few of you will feign disbelief and say "Oh no, you're just being a drama king Bob." Thank you for trying to soften the blow. I'm sure a few of you even said that with a straight face, but we all know it's true. I'm a jerk.
Do any of you have a Facebook page dedicated to how big of a jerk you are? I do. For real. And it wasn't even started by The Ex. If you count the Ex's Facebook page, it's actually two pages dedicated to how much of an asshole I am.
I know it's not unusual for children to have contentious relationships with their parents. But I've managed to become estranged from not one, but two mothers. Yes, the people who are hormonally evolved and socially conditioned to nurture and protect their young both think I am a jerk. Granted, one of them is mentally ill and the other is biologically related to me (which is a reasonable excuse I suppose), but still. You couple that with my sociopathic Ex and you can see that I may have problems with women.
Once is bad luck. Twice is a coincidence. Three times and it's probably your fault.
What happens when my girlfriend realizes that she's living with a jerk? Hopefully she's less sociopathic than my ex, but then again what if I'm just a horrible judge of character? It's not as if rapists and serial killers introduce themselves with their chosen avocation while announcing their intention to gut and skin you for sport.
"You got a pretty mouth boy."
"Um, thanks... I gotta go. Bye."
If only it was that easy.
So what do our friends think? Most of them say it's "too early". But when asked "How long would be long enough?" they shrug.
Twelve months? Eighteen months? Six years? I don't know either. People in arranged marriages may only meet one or two times prior to their wedding and yet statistically they are very successful. According to multiple sites, the global divorce rate for arranged marriages is only 6%! Now granted, there are numerous caveats to that statistic since it is heavily culturally biased. It doesn't consider the impact of familial shame, the poor economic prospects for women in countries that favor arranged marriage or local laws prohibiting divorce.
But believe it or not, November will mark two years that my girlfriend and I have known each other. That's a significant amount of time. It's longer than I knew my ex-wife before we moved in together. In fact, by the two year mark we were engaged and well into planning our wedding.
I know full well this could turn out to be a flipping disaster to rival the last one. But it could also be a wonderful start to a new life together. In life there are no guarantees and no one knows how this is going to end. But I know that I'm a lot happier when I'm with her. So nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I'm going to jump in that river again, even if this time I'm keeping one eye on the life preserver. Wish me luck.
Thanksgiving - Oldie
I wrote this last November. Not sure why I never got around to posting it. I've definitely posted way worse.
I'm on a train headed west to Chicago to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with one of my very best friends. BLT says we're closer than brothers. While I didn't grow up with any 'actual' brothers, I'm inclined to agree. I'm really thankful to have him in my life.
So here I sit musing on the concept of Thanksgiving while I try to ignore the young couple in front of me making out like a couple of sailors on shore leave.
They remind me of the Vogelchecks from Saturday Night Live. It's quite the show if you're into sloppy saliva soaked kisses. Fred Armisen plays the patriarch of the family. Check it out here.
I swear he just licked her face.
Back to being thankful. I'd really be thankful for a sleep mask and noise canceling headphones right now.
The Ex threw a graduation party for me when I finished graduate school back in 2004. The party was great fun and my family and friends took the opportunity to roast me. Since I had spent the better part of the previous 25 years being an asshole, I probably deserved it. Fun was had by most and after they finished putting me in my place I was allowed to speak. My ex didn't tell me that the party was a roast until about an hour before the start. Nor did she bother to warn me that I was required to speak and I'd best be witty and charming since everyone came here to see me.
I remember how grateful I was for all the wonderful people in my life and the fact that almost all of them took time from their busy schedules to come out and eat my food. I seem to remember Doli Madison coming all the way from Florida to get his shots in.
I had an hour to organize and draft a speech intended to entertain and enlighten a room full of people who had already heard everything I've ever had to say. What could I possibly add? I'm not an essayist, nor a gifted public speaker. But I am good at one thing, and that's spinning bullshit at the last minute. There's nothing like a deadline to focus the mind. I sat down in the hotel lounge and crafted my personal Sermon on the Mount. It was probably the best thing I've ever written. I'm pretty sure the Ex video taped the entire party. I sort of wish I still had those tapes.
Maybe it's better that the speech wasn't recorded. I'm sure it plays better in my memory than it ever did in real life. I spoke of friendship and love. About how no man is an island and we are all in this life together. I explained how every one of my accomplishments in life was directly related to the support and encouragement of my family and friends. I talked about my Dad and how much I missed him and how proud he would have been. In my mind it was (and is) beautiful.
Sunday was the ten year anniversary of my Dad's passing. This is the first year I missed it. One one hand I can't believe it's been that long. On the other I can barely remember the sound of his voice any more. Time flies and life is what happens to our best laid plans.
My advice is to take the time this Thanksgiving to be thankful for the people in your life that make life worth living.
Peace.
I'm on a train headed west to Chicago to spend the Thanksgiving holiday with one of my very best friends. BLT says we're closer than brothers. While I didn't grow up with any 'actual' brothers, I'm inclined to agree. I'm really thankful to have him in my life.
So here I sit musing on the concept of Thanksgiving while I try to ignore the young couple in front of me making out like a couple of sailors on shore leave.
They remind me of the Vogelchecks from Saturday Night Live. It's quite the show if you're into sloppy saliva soaked kisses. Fred Armisen plays the patriarch of the family. Check it out here.
I swear he just licked her face.
Back to being thankful. I'd really be thankful for a sleep mask and noise canceling headphones right now.
The Ex threw a graduation party for me when I finished graduate school back in 2004. The party was great fun and my family and friends took the opportunity to roast me. Since I had spent the better part of the previous 25 years being an asshole, I probably deserved it. Fun was had by most and after they finished putting me in my place I was allowed to speak. My ex didn't tell me that the party was a roast until about an hour before the start. Nor did she bother to warn me that I was required to speak and I'd best be witty and charming since everyone came here to see me.
I remember how grateful I was for all the wonderful people in my life and the fact that almost all of them took time from their busy schedules to come out and eat my food. I seem to remember Doli Madison coming all the way from Florida to get his shots in.
I had an hour to organize and draft a speech intended to entertain and enlighten a room full of people who had already heard everything I've ever had to say. What could I possibly add? I'm not an essayist, nor a gifted public speaker. But I am good at one thing, and that's spinning bullshit at the last minute. There's nothing like a deadline to focus the mind. I sat down in the hotel lounge and crafted my personal Sermon on the Mount. It was probably the best thing I've ever written. I'm pretty sure the Ex video taped the entire party. I sort of wish I still had those tapes.
Maybe it's better that the speech wasn't recorded. I'm sure it plays better in my memory than it ever did in real life. I spoke of friendship and love. About how no man is an island and we are all in this life together. I explained how every one of my accomplishments in life was directly related to the support and encouragement of my family and friends. I talked about my Dad and how much I missed him and how proud he would have been. In my mind it was (and is) beautiful.
Sunday was the ten year anniversary of my Dad's passing. This is the first year I missed it. One one hand I can't believe it's been that long. On the other I can barely remember the sound of his voice any more. Time flies and life is what happens to our best laid plans.
My advice is to take the time this Thanksgiving to be thankful for the people in your life that make life worth living.
Peace.
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