Day 293: Rest

Today was all about laziness. God, it was excellent.

Day 292: Envy, You're Not So Bad

Today, my cousin sent me a text from a movie theater. Worse, he did it right smack dab in the middle of the day. On a Friday. On a cold, ugly, windy Friday.

“How dare you!” I thought as I read it. “You have a lot of nerve, dude.”

Didn’t he know I was sitting at my desk, looking out a dirty window at the dreary, gray clouds existing on the other side of the glass?

Didn’t he know it was now impossible for me to picture anything else in my mind than him sitting in that big, reclining, cushy theater seat, popcorn in his lap, big jug of sugar drink resting comfortably in the soda holder, and maybe even if a bag of Skittles to wash it all down for good measure? God, it made my water a bit, I swear.

Sometimes, envy is the worst trait to be stuck with. Even if it’s temporary, and even if there’s no malice or contempt involved in how it was brought forth, envy is still a bitch. It can leave you feeling discontented. It can leave you feeling incomplete, knowing you’re missing something better that’s located in a better place probably involving better people.

Damn, I wanted that popcorn.

I want that dark movie theater.

I wanted the free time.

I wanted the peace of sinking fully into nothing buy enjoyment. No place to be. No thoughts to summon up to complete a task. No energy to spend other than sticking my hand in a heaping pile of popcorn and then licking the butter from my fingers.

I wanted that damn popcorn seemingly as much as I ever wanted anything in my life.

But that’s the way life presents itself sometimes. With envy. Even for something as inconsequential as a movie and popcorn. You can bemoan your misery, or you can get over it and move on. Today, well, honestly, I choose to bemoan my misery. Not the wisest choice, but honestly, just daydreaming of being someone more preferable was oddly comforting. Imagining myself in that theater, propped up in front of that screen, ears being blown away by a kick-ass audio system. Yeah, today, I choose envy and envy didn’t let me down. 

Day 291: On Soup Kitchens, Elections & My Friends

Paul Ryan, the would-be vice president of the United States, has got me thinking today. More precisely, Ryan’s visit to a Youngstown, Ohio soup dinner last week has me thinking and pondering and wondering and realizing a few things. For that, I have to thank Ryan because, although he and I share next to nothing in the way of political beliefs, he has made me come to see a few faults with myself that I’ve exhibited this political season and that I’m not that proud of.

But first, for the uninformed, here’s what is certain about Ryan’s visit: He, his wife, and several members of his team dropped by a soup kitchen in Ohio. Ryan asserts he did so to pay kudos “for doing what you do. This is what makes society go. It makes it work. Helping people.” The president of the Mahoning County’s St. Vincent De Paul Society that runs the facility, however, says Ryan’s party didn’t have permission and “ramrodded their way” in. Reportedly, Ryan donned an apron, washed dishes that were already clean, and stayed roughly 15 minutes total without serving a meal. Ryan’s camp says they called ahead and got the OK.

Personally, I’ll take the word of a faith-practicing man dedicated to running a soup kitchen over a politician. Any politician, that is. But I’ll leave it to you to make up your own mind. The thing is I’m not even all that upset with what Ryan apparently tried to pull. Um, politicians and photo-ops aren’t anything new. They happen every day and in every way. We’ve seen that “let me kiss your baby” scam going down for generations, right? No, what has me pissed, and honestly fairly well depressed, is that according to the president of the society running the soup kitchen, many donors prior to Ryan’s visit have pulled their support following the visit due to how Ryan was depicted later on. This despite the soup kitchen president assuring anyone interested that his is an organization that’s apolitical. As he stated, "If this was the Democrats, I'd have the same exact problem."

Here’s where my disappointment in myself comes in. Upon reading all this and staying current on the developments, there was no hesitation in my mind whatsoever to form thoughts of, “typical republican bullshit--party first, people second.” But maybe because this situation in particular involved a soup kitchen, I did some deeper, longer thinking, and today, for whatever reason, saw errors in my ways. And although I’m somewhat embarrassed with myself, I’m thankful.

Each summer for two years now, I’ve helped raise money for the local People's City Mission, a homeless shelter that provides the homeless population all kinds of generosity and assistance, including a place to sleep, clothing, and meals. When I write “helped raise money,” what is more accurate is that I sought the help of friends and family to donate money for the cause. During the first summer they helped raise more than $1,500. This past summer, their help brought in close to another $1,000. Not huge sums of money, but nothing to sneeze at, either. Ultimately, that money helped serve a lot of warm meals that otherwise wouldn’t have been possible.

What’s important about this and how it relates to Ryan and the Ohio soup kitchen is that it's made me stop to remember that many of those friends and family who so kindly gifted money to my cause aren’t on the same political page as me. How do I know? Some of these people I’ve known for decades, and their political affiliations aren’t a real big secret. In other cases, I’ve read their Facebook posts over the past few months and pretty easily deduced they don’t prescribe to my way of thinking. They've read mine, as well. I lobbed some political grenades in the directions of republicans. They’ve lobbed some back. I engaged in an argument here and there, and more times that I can count, I’ve made careless judgments based entirely on someone’s political view, conveniently putting aside that they're entitled to their opinions every bit as much as I am to mine. More importantly, I somehow failed to remember that these people are generous, giving, kind, caring souls. They’re republicans. They’re Romney backers. They’re Obama detractors. Their ideologies don’t jibe with mine. But they gave, and I’m fairly certain they give elsewhere and most likely they give often.

Sometimes, I’m prone and even eager to judge someone’s strong convictions concerning matters that don't align with mine as being misguided and even wrong. Just as often I'm prone to prop my positions up as being pious. Simply put, I’m guilty of honing in on the stereotypes from time to time. I guess that’s not too surprising given the amount of hatred and ill will that’s been in the air this presidential election. But stereotypes aren’t the whole enchilada and often, they're  dangerous. Thanks for reminding me, Paul Ryan. And thanks to my friends, all my friends, who gave and give to others in need.

Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure this place can use everyone’s help:

Mahoning County St. Vincent De Paul Society

P.O. Box 224

Youngstown, Ohio 44501.

Day 290: The Big Blow Off

There’s nothing I enjoy more than watching some dude get the big blow off from a woman who doesn’t have time for his painfully obvious, moronic, ass-kissing, mack daddy-lacking, pathetic ways. I mean I truly love a good kiss off just about more than anything. The visual is so sweet.

From start to end, this scenario is a thing of beauty. First, Mr. Smooth lays down his go-to line. He follows that up with his ever-so enticing smile, maybe even a delightful little chuckle to show just how hip he is. But just when he thinks he’s in, he’s not. Instead, he’s left shattered by the savvy, wiser-than-thou woman who delivers a swift dropkick to his oversized, ego-filled head. Boom!!! Smack!!! Thud!!! Dude is left lying in a pool of his own lost pride. What makes this even better is when she walks away slowly, confident, unaffected, all the while sporting a straight-up “I’m ignoring the hell out of you right now because that’s the only action any sane woman can take.”

What truly makes watching one of these scenes go down is when the dude is someone I’ve had to tolerate, put up with, and watch pollute my environment for longer than I ever could have wished for.

I realize my loathing for such overbearing, domineering, “look at me” men probably isn’t the most positive vibe I can offer up, but truly, without even an ounce of exaggeration, I can say it does my heart and soul great good when an idiot like this, someone who deserves the beat down, gets the beat down and he can do nothing about it but sit in the mess he’s created and pretend it didn’t just happen. I wish I could witness such an occurrence every day.

Today’s was a beauty, though, so I’ll hold on to it as long as possible. Who knows when it will come around again? Although, considering the vast population of knuckleheaded, chest-puffing dimwits that seem to be walking the planet, I probably won’t be waiting all that long.

I’m not sure when my disgust for this breed of male began, but I just know it hasn’t dissipated much over the years. You know the guy. He’s got an opinion for everything, and his is the only one that matters. He speaks just loud enough so that everyone can hear him, even when no is paying attention. He follows up every story told by someone else with a story of his own to top it. He’s been everywhere. He’s done everything. He hands out advice like candy on Halloween, despite most of his candy being spoiled and bitter-tasting. He too cool to acknowledge the presence of anyone who can’t benefit him directly, but he’s always cool enough to say hello to the “ladies.” But only some ladies. Only the ones he can picture himself with. Only the ones who aren’t up higher on the food chain. Only those who physically “speak” to him. This is the guy who knows he’s a white male living in a land where being a white male makes you the cream of the crop, and he’s going to ride that creamy train for as long as possible.

So, call me petty, but on this day, the most positive thing that I’ve witnessed or experienced is watching said flake get what was coming to him. Brilliant.

Day 289: The Hobbit

On many a rainy or cold, snowy Sunday afternoon, I'd lay in my bedroom as a kid reading those pages in my copy of "The Hobbit" in which Bilbo engaged in a game of riddles with Gollum. I read and re-read "The Hobbit" numerous times, but on these days when the wind was whipping outside and the covers of my bed were toasty warm, I tended to skip directly to this passage and take in Tolkien's brilliant words over and over. 

As any great book makes possible, I formed my own visions of Bilbo and Gollum in my mind, and even now if I close my eyes, I can conjure those images up with fairly impressive clarity. It has been more than 30 years, after all. On a really good day back then, I could even convince myself that I knew just how damp and suffocating and horrible the tunnels that Gollum resided in really were. I undoubtedly could feel Bilbo's fear. No matter how many times I read those pages, that fright never seemed to diminish. 

Of anything that I read during those years of my life, "The Hobbit"  provided the greatest escape from the real world. It could transport me to a different time and place like nothing else I'd experienced previously, with the possible exception being "The Wizard of Oz," which when I was young, a kid only got one chance a year to see on television. "The Hobbit," though, felt more sinister and real. The stakes were much higher. Bilbo's responsibility far greater than Dorothy's. Bilbo obstacles far greater. He had no comrades or confidants other than Gandalf, and Gandalf wasn't by his side constantly for reassuring and positive reinforcement life the Scarecrow for Dorothy. Those who were with Bilbo didn't believe in him and didn't want him around in the first place. Bilbo had everything to prove. I learned a lot from Bilbo's courage as a kid. Better, I learned that a sharp mind can accomplish a great deal. 

I've seen the theatrical trailer for the upcoming "The Hobbit" more times now than I can count now it seems. I still don't know how I feel about it. As much as I loved "The Lord of The Rings" trilogy and as much as I've viewed each installment (ask my wife), I don't hold the same attachment to them as with "The Hobbit." I don't have visions of them in my mind in the same way. "The Hobbit" opened up doors and possibilities and meanings for me, including in the way of entertainment, literature, morality, alternative worlds, bravery, wisdom, etc. Moreover, it provided a great deal of inspiration to start writing on my own. More than anything, though, I fear "The Hobbit" the movie will somehow alter my relationship that I formed with Bilbo and Gollum in that tunnel, somehow changing the fear I've always felt, changing the tension I've always sensed, changing the attachment. Whether that really happens or not, I don't know. I tend to think not. Still, there's something to be said of leaving well enough alone.  

Day 288: Solitude

I pretty much need solitude to survive. Not as much as I used to require, but enough that I can clear my head from time to time. My head needs a lot of clearing it seems. It's not even that there is an overabundance of thoughts circling around up there. Sometimes, my head gets stuffed with the same  thought playing over and over on a loop. Literally, I have have to tell myself, "Stop fixating, man. You're bugging me." Mine is a simple mind, it seems.  

Most of my solitude these days comes when running. For at least an hour, I can all but guarantee that I'm not going to have to talk to anyone and no one is going to talk to me. I can think about whatever I want. Or I can choose not to think. I can just run and observe. And although there are runs where pretty much all my energy is spent sucking in air and desperately trying to figure out how I'm going to make it even one step more, there are runs that are glorious. Runs where I don't see any cars. I don't see any faces. I don't see anything but the blue sky, the clouds, the landscape, and the distance. Those are the days where I'm most thankful for the solitude. 

Back in the day, I had arguably too much solitude on my hands. In my early 20s, I didn't have a television for several years, for example, a situation that only added to the already considerable quietness. Just books and music and pen and paper. The music added voices to the air, but often those voices only added to the atmosphere; they didn't add companionship. But honestly, I didn't mind a bit. I grew used to letting my thoughts roam free. I grew accustomed to letting my imagination perform the greatest of tricks. And I think I'm the better today for it. I may not always like myself, but I'm almost always comfortable being by myself. I don't search for ways to pass idle time. I don't need someone to make the most of the minutes in front of me. I'm fine with just "sitting." A friend of mine uses that term, "sitting." Just sitting and being. If you do it, you know what I'm talking about. If you don't do it or can't do it, you're missing out. You're missing out on really, truly knowing yourself. Facing your demons. Making friends with them. Making them your allies. Turning them down the path of good. 

Spend enough time by yourself and you learn to be honest with yourself. Face up to your limitations. Stare down your inadequacies. You know what's what. You learn that you can lie and cheat and attempt to fool others into thinking something different about you, but you're just a sucker for doing so. You've gained nothing. You've gained no true respect. False respect is dead respect. It's nothing to be honored or toted out as a badge of honor. Fool others into believing you're something you're not and you're not getting over; you're just a fraud. That's an aspect of running that I love most. You can lie and fabricate and beef up your times and distance, but when you're out on the pavement or trail alone and break down and quit short of your goal, you know the score. You know you didn't measure up. You know how to be truthful with yourself. That carries over. 

There are days when I wish I had more solitude. More time to explore alone. More time to write and rewrite and rewrite some more the lines filtering through my head. But the trade-off is minutes lost with people I don't want to be separated from. And there's much to be gained from being united. I suppose, though, that I'll always be a person who gravitates toward solitude in one respect or another. I'm thankful for the people around me who understand the need. 

Day 287: Pink, pink, pink

Every time I turn the television on these days to watch a football game, all I see is all kinds of pink. Pink shoes. Pink sweatbands. Pink goalposts. Pink towels. Pink hats. Pink, pink, pink.

I wonder if people who don't like sports know about all the good that sports do. I wonder if they understand the ungodly numbers of people that sports touches. The attention that sports demands. The influence it can have to the positive.

All the eyeballs now seeing all that pink are becoming aware that cancer is a big fricking problem. They're asking each other, "Why are they all wearing pink?" And they're learning. Remembering. And maybe they'll take action. They realize that sports does and can make an impact.