First off, I'm blogging without any pants on. Just thought you should know.
The weather had been crazy cold and snowy. I guess the mention of snow in my last blog brought on some REALLY bad luck. I'll be sure not to do it again.. Crap, I just did... Well after this mention I'll be sure to stop.
I've been spending most of my time going here and there. Gracing the world with my handsomeness. I've also spent a lot of time shoveling the fore-mentioned white... stuff. Doing my driveways along with families and my family's business. All this time I thought I was surely building up some good karma. I guess I was wrong.
The first time the sky spewed little wet and slippery pieces of dandruff from hell it knocked out power both in Brownsville AND Brier Hill. Which wasn't a big deal because it didn't happen simultaneously. I hadn't bothered with the television for a few days after that.. Not until Super Bowl Sunday. I spend the whole day doing what I have to do and rush back JUST in the nick of time for the game. Well, just in time to find that my satellite receiver was broke. Turns out it was completely fried and they had to send me a new one.
The next day the home heating oil company was scheduled to come and fill my tank. No big deal, right? Sure, except the kankle that took the order put it in as C.O.D. Meaning I would have to be there to pay the driver upon completion. No one knew this except said idiot who put in the order. So the truck doesn't deliver, the guy doesn't even call until the next day, and I run out of oil. This situation then proceeds to have a ripple-o-shit affect, because when the oil runs out the furnace gets clogged. When the furnace gets clogged it can't run even if it did have oil. No furnace equals no way to keep the water lines from freezing.
So days later I find myself with oil, but no way to heat the house. The man that was called to fix the furnace is a bum who shows up ten hours after I call him. But mad props to him for showing up at all. Not five minutes after he leaves with the furnace fixed and running I step outside and hear water running. Not dripping, gushing from a busted pipe. So I do the only thing I can and turn the water off from the pressure valve located on the other end of the frozen lawn. And did I mention that it's dark by this time? And I have no flashlight.
AND I have already run out of oil, had to get the furnace fixed as well as fix two busted water lines already this winter.
To top it all off my little girl is sick. 101.5 temperature, coughing and vomiting. So I just might have a fun-filled night at the ER in my near future. Nevertheless, I now find myself sitting at my computer amusing myself (and hopefully other people too..) with this ridiculous story of mine. Waiting for my jeans to come out of the drier. Yeah, I'll bet you were wondering why I didn't have any pants on.. and now you know ;)
I guess I'll just have to wait and see if my world ever gets turned right-side-up again. If and when it happens, I'll be sure to blog about it.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
It's Hard to be Impressed When You Don't know What You're Looking At..
I promised more about Myself, and I will now strive to deliver that. Though instead of delving more into my past, which isn't an idea I'm very fond of at the moment, I'll strive to reveal some of the more psychological things going on behind these eyes. But I feel I should warn you to the fact that, though it is my own mind and thoughts, I sometimes have a very hard time explaining some things, and thus You might have an even harder time still understanding them. That should be something to keep in mind while reading future posts as well.
Anyway...
Some people choose to contribute a person's attitude, outlook and/or actions to the actual age of their soul. I.e. Someone who is always exuberant and vivacious throughout life would be called a "young soul." I, on the other hand, am an old soul. Honestly feeling like I'm in my seventies or eighties most of the time. I know that there are a lot of people out there who have been through a lot more than I have in my life, and a lot of them are probably younger than me. Though I have always felt a lot older than my actual age.
Who knows, maybe what we know as our "souls" do get recycled in some way after death. All I'm saying is that You cannot logically rule something like that out.
Back to the original point: This goes way beyond laziness, whining about my childhood, or randomly bitching about the fact that I feel like Father Time himself. It's a very strange, almost unnatural feeling. A feeling which has a wide array of affects on me. Everything from feeling more confident in what I might be doing at any given moment, to a general disinterest in a lot of opportunities that comes my way.
One thing's for certain, Give Me a roof over my head and enough money to just exist for the rest of my days and I'd happily retire right here and now.
This is also where most of My unique views on everything come from... probably. I have many many strong opinions on just about everything, but then again, who doesn't? Instead of just listing them out right here and now, I'll instead let them trickle out little by little in future posts. Mostly because as of late I have had this enormous drive to write, but am coming up short on ideas for subject to write about.
Though there is one subject which has many faces to both write and reflect on, and so I'll attempt to start revealing a little bit about my thoughts and experiences of love. Just typing the word sends reflections dancing throughout my mind. Seeing the word fills Me with a barrage of emotions so strong they could send one soaring through the clouds just as fast as they could drown you at crushing depths. Everyone seems to know exactly what it is, yet many have no idea. Some people are so sure they are experiencing love in its truest form only to find out later that the feelings must have been something else, and it seems we all have a tale about "the one that got away."
There have been songs written, art performed and wars fought over love. It's highly addictive and often more fragile than we're willing to believe. At this point in my life, I can honestly say that I have been in love, and am in love right now.
I'm staring out the window at the snow falling lightly outside. Watching the wind blow the tiny white flakes every which way, noticing the contrast between that and the background, always stagnant and unchanging. As I'm doing this I'm trying to figure out how to word ultimately what I'm about to write. Knowing that this is a tough and sensitive subject, along with the fact that people can and will read it. I'm struggling... I better keep this brief.
I'll again take You back to when I was in grade school. It seemed that I was searching for love even in a very young age. I can smile back on memories like "making out" with Amy, one of my kindergarten classmates after school in the coat closet. Myself lying in bed first thing in the morning pondering who might be the next girl I would ask to be my girlfriend. Knowing these memories are completely harmless and innocent, and also knowing not all of my memories are as such.
Fast forward to middle school to where I actually didn't have many 'official' girlfriends, but was a time where You probably couldn't get the telephone off of my ear, even with a crowbar. I would spend hours on end talking to an ever-changing group of girls, some of which I had never met in real life. Even to this day I could pass a few of them in the street and neither of us would know to nod. These days I'm not one for phone conversation, so thinking back on the hours and hours I've logged on the telephone boggles my mind. What the hell could I have talked about for all of that time, and how could I have possibly believed that I was in love with a few of these girls that I had a strictly phone based relationship with? I suppose that I didn't have a lot of experiences to reference then, and point of view could also be a strong factor. Who I was back then could argue that the relationships could have held a stronger bond simply because they were strictly phone based, and not bogged down with the pressures of what a "normal" relationship could hold. But as none of these experiences hold any standing in my life now, (meaning none of them have stood the test of time whatsoever,) Me, myself now will digress.
It wasn't until high school that I got a real taste of what love could be, and I guess I didn't waste any time to start finding distractions from school.
The summer leading into my freshman year of high school ended up changing my perception on love, and as it turned out, it was just that - one summer. Four months, to be exact.
As you have read above, I was in a newly formed band. We started holding practices throughout the week where a lot of the time it was just the four of us. Some nights our other friends would come out to our practice area (conveniently for me, a kid with a few years before he could get his license, was in my parent's basement), and we would all hang out afterward. Sometimes, as with this particular night, we would enjoy a dip in the hot tub. As the four members of the band were having a soak and waiting for the rest of the group to show up, I learned that one of our female friends would be bringing yet another friend, and when they showed up, that was it. I can remember seeing this woman come around the bend. Remember how my heart felt like it was bouncing around my body. My only outward reaction at the time was to dunk my head into the water. Lucky for me they two women went straight into the house and saved the introductions for later.
And that was that. In the interest of exploring all sides of this subject, I should also share the end of the story. In the interest of time and feelings I'll skip the middle. Four months later, I was blissfully ignorant to just how dire my situation had become. My love at the time told me she was going on a camping trip with her family, and that she was going to do some thinking when she was there. Sure enough the Sunday she returned we all hung out. I could tell something was a little off, but again, ignorance was bliss... or so I was about to find out. I kept insisting that we talk about what decisions she had made while she was away. Never imagining a life changing breakup was on the way. Finally she caved. We went into my parent's boat, which was parked outside the house where she broke the news to me, and then she left along with all of my other friends. Leaving me broken in pretty much all senses of the word. A phone call that night came with a lot of crying and pleading to no avail.
Looking back, I've always stayed true to the fact that that's where my problem has always been. My "one that got away" left with no second chances given, and I'm a firm believer in second chances.
To complete the story, I will include that she was, is and always will be someone who I will always make myself available for. No matter what. A lot of people ridicule me for that, but my heart will not change. Not that it matters since she quite immediately started dating the drummer in my band, and that is now who she is married to and has two kids with.
It has taught me that all things are possible to move past, but somethings are impossible to get over.
This blog is over, but I have a feeling my next blog will be a continuance of what lies above.
Anyway...
Some people choose to contribute a person's attitude, outlook and/or actions to the actual age of their soul. I.e. Someone who is always exuberant and vivacious throughout life would be called a "young soul." I, on the other hand, am an old soul. Honestly feeling like I'm in my seventies or eighties most of the time. I know that there are a lot of people out there who have been through a lot more than I have in my life, and a lot of them are probably younger than me. Though I have always felt a lot older than my actual age.
Who knows, maybe what we know as our "souls" do get recycled in some way after death. All I'm saying is that You cannot logically rule something like that out.
Back to the original point: This goes way beyond laziness, whining about my childhood, or randomly bitching about the fact that I feel like Father Time himself. It's a very strange, almost unnatural feeling. A feeling which has a wide array of affects on me. Everything from feeling more confident in what I might be doing at any given moment, to a general disinterest in a lot of opportunities that comes my way.
One thing's for certain, Give Me a roof over my head and enough money to just exist for the rest of my days and I'd happily retire right here and now.
This is also where most of My unique views on everything come from... probably. I have many many strong opinions on just about everything, but then again, who doesn't? Instead of just listing them out right here and now, I'll instead let them trickle out little by little in future posts. Mostly because as of late I have had this enormous drive to write, but am coming up short on ideas for subject to write about.
Though there is one subject which has many faces to both write and reflect on, and so I'll attempt to start revealing a little bit about my thoughts and experiences of love. Just typing the word sends reflections dancing throughout my mind. Seeing the word fills Me with a barrage of emotions so strong they could send one soaring through the clouds just as fast as they could drown you at crushing depths. Everyone seems to know exactly what it is, yet many have no idea. Some people are so sure they are experiencing love in its truest form only to find out later that the feelings must have been something else, and it seems we all have a tale about "the one that got away."
There have been songs written, art performed and wars fought over love. It's highly addictive and often more fragile than we're willing to believe. At this point in my life, I can honestly say that I have been in love, and am in love right now.
I'm staring out the window at the snow falling lightly outside. Watching the wind blow the tiny white flakes every which way, noticing the contrast between that and the background, always stagnant and unchanging. As I'm doing this I'm trying to figure out how to word ultimately what I'm about to write. Knowing that this is a tough and sensitive subject, along with the fact that people can and will read it. I'm struggling... I better keep this brief.
I'll again take You back to when I was in grade school. It seemed that I was searching for love even in a very young age. I can smile back on memories like "making out" with Amy, one of my kindergarten classmates after school in the coat closet. Myself lying in bed first thing in the morning pondering who might be the next girl I would ask to be my girlfriend. Knowing these memories are completely harmless and innocent, and also knowing not all of my memories are as such.
Fast forward to middle school to where I actually didn't have many 'official' girlfriends, but was a time where You probably couldn't get the telephone off of my ear, even with a crowbar. I would spend hours on end talking to an ever-changing group of girls, some of which I had never met in real life. Even to this day I could pass a few of them in the street and neither of us would know to nod. These days I'm not one for phone conversation, so thinking back on the hours and hours I've logged on the telephone boggles my mind. What the hell could I have talked about for all of that time, and how could I have possibly believed that I was in love with a few of these girls that I had a strictly phone based relationship with? I suppose that I didn't have a lot of experiences to reference then, and point of view could also be a strong factor. Who I was back then could argue that the relationships could have held a stronger bond simply because they were strictly phone based, and not bogged down with the pressures of what a "normal" relationship could hold. But as none of these experiences hold any standing in my life now, (meaning none of them have stood the test of time whatsoever,) Me, myself now will digress.
It wasn't until high school that I got a real taste of what love could be, and I guess I didn't waste any time to start finding distractions from school.
The summer leading into my freshman year of high school ended up changing my perception on love, and as it turned out, it was just that - one summer. Four months, to be exact.
As you have read above, I was in a newly formed band. We started holding practices throughout the week where a lot of the time it was just the four of us. Some nights our other friends would come out to our practice area (conveniently for me, a kid with a few years before he could get his license, was in my parent's basement), and we would all hang out afterward. Sometimes, as with this particular night, we would enjoy a dip in the hot tub. As the four members of the band were having a soak and waiting for the rest of the group to show up, I learned that one of our female friends would be bringing yet another friend, and when they showed up, that was it. I can remember seeing this woman come around the bend. Remember how my heart felt like it was bouncing around my body. My only outward reaction at the time was to dunk my head into the water. Lucky for me they two women went straight into the house and saved the introductions for later.
And that was that. In the interest of exploring all sides of this subject, I should also share the end of the story. In the interest of time and feelings I'll skip the middle. Four months later, I was blissfully ignorant to just how dire my situation had become. My love at the time told me she was going on a camping trip with her family, and that she was going to do some thinking when she was there. Sure enough the Sunday she returned we all hung out. I could tell something was a little off, but again, ignorance was bliss... or so I was about to find out. I kept insisting that we talk about what decisions she had made while she was away. Never imagining a life changing breakup was on the way. Finally she caved. We went into my parent's boat, which was parked outside the house where she broke the news to me, and then she left along with all of my other friends. Leaving me broken in pretty much all senses of the word. A phone call that night came with a lot of crying and pleading to no avail.
Looking back, I've always stayed true to the fact that that's where my problem has always been. My "one that got away" left with no second chances given, and I'm a firm believer in second chances.
To complete the story, I will include that she was, is and always will be someone who I will always make myself available for. No matter what. A lot of people ridicule me for that, but my heart will not change. Not that it matters since she quite immediately started dating the drummer in my band, and that is now who she is married to and has two kids with.
It has taught me that all things are possible to move past, but somethings are impossible to get over.
This blog is over, but I have a feeling my next blog will be a continuance of what lies above.
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