Day 335: Happiness In Photos

I generally don't need much to be content. A cup of hot coffee. A walk in the sun. The sound of a train barreling through. Some good music. A pretty face to look at. Today, those were all within my reach.

Day 334: Rocky Mt. High

I'm blogging from the great state of Colorado, a destiny I not only love but have come to rely on over the last 16 years or so to restore my sanity. I need natural wonders to rekindle my faith in what this planet had to offer. I need God-produced beauty to make me see past the ugliness that can asorb a person in the "real" world. He'll, I just need to escape one or twice a year, and this is the ace I choose to run to.

I don't understand Nebraskans who live one state over and never make it here. What are you waiting for? Do you object to being in awe? Do you have something against staggering amounts of wonder waiting outside your door? Well, to each his own, I suppose. More space for me to take it all in.

Me in the mountains is me in my zone. I love Nebraska. Don't get me wrong. But cornfields in the winter just doesn't do much for me. 

Day 333: If I Won The Lottery

Over the years, my daughters and I have occasionally had those “what would you do if you had all the money in the world” conversations while driving in the car or sitting in the sun just killing time. You know the ones.

“Hey,what would your house have in it if you could buy anything?”

“I’d have a room made out of nothing but trampolines.”

“I’d have a swimming pool in the middle of the house, and you could jump in from the fourth floor and then take the heated elevator up and do it all over again.”

“I’d have a demolition derby field out back, and every week I’d invite my friends over to wreck all new cars.”

“I’dhave a giant Slurpee machine with 1,000 flavors and a faucet in every room.”

“I’d have a bed made out of Skittles.”

“I’d have a pet gorilla that drank banana milk shakes.”

“I’d have a cheese fountain next to a nacho mountain next to a tub of margaritas on ice.”

I love those conversations. They tap into our weirdest but strongest desires. They’re built on creativity and dreaming of everything possible given the means.

But those conversations also leave me feeling bittersweet in the end when the realization hits that the magical house is never going to be constructed, and there’s never going to be a day when all the world’s riches are mine, and I’ll most likely live my entire life without knowing the joy what it would be like to step out of bed in the morning, head across the hallway, and open the door to my very own room made out of trampolines.

The nearly $600 million Powerball lottery that was on the line yesterday got me thinking about that trampoline room. It also got me thinking about the gigantic organic farm that I’d buy and for which I’d proceed to hire every homeless person with the will to learn the way of the land to give them the education and guidance to grow their own crops, all with the intention of putting them in position to one day own their own slice of the farm and do the same for others.

The lottery got me thinking of the bicycle that I’d buy every kid in every orphanage in every country, or the Big Blaine’s Berry Bombastic Bubblegum that I’d make and sell in order to build ballparks everywhere so kids could learn and play the great game of baseball.

The lottery got me thinking about the private country club that I’d construct and who I’d keep out and who I’d let in. I’d be rich myself, but I’m thinking Club Le Flamig would be restricted to only families making $100,000 or less a year. The initiation fee? Simply take your turn mowing the fairways and greens once a month, make me a cheesecake, and we’ll call it good. I’ll provide the clubs,balls, and lessons free.

Truth is, yesterday, I didn’t even buy a lottery ticket. I seldom do. Either I’m late to the news that there’s a whole lot of dough up for grabs or I’m just too lazy to fork over the money to acquire one.

Once or twice a year, though, I will get my arse in gear and drop a few bucks on a ticket. And I’ll do some daydreaming. And I’ll let my hopes get carried away.And I’ll think, “What the hell. Why not me?” And then I’ll wake up in the morning, learning that I’ve once again won nothing, and get back to living the life I’ve come to know.

But I’ll tell you, being a winner, if even ever so briefly and only in my imagination, is a damn lot of fun and a whole lot of fulfilling.

Day 332: Christmas Decorations

The decorations are up and all is ok in the world. How do these bright lights and Santa faces and elf ears and red candles bring so much comfort? How do they bring so much wonder?

Who cares really. There's magic in the air. For at least this short period of time, the world feels like a good place to be. The world feels like the place to be.

These decorations are what make a home a home.

Day 331: The World According To Lloyd Dobler

“I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen.” – Lloyd Dobler

I was thinking about Lloyd Dobler early today. I think of Lloyd often, albeit not in a romantic sense like a lot of the ladies (and maybe men) have done since 1989 when Lloyd entered our collective hearts and minds. 

I think of Lloyd for other reasons beyond the great romantic he is. I think of Lloyd for reasons related to life views and philosophies for living it. 

I hold Lloyd Dobler in great esteem, and for many reasons. For someone so young, he really had his shit together. He knew the score way early on, and man, if that didn't put him a millions miles ahead of the pack. I’m 45, and I'm still wishing I could acquire the levels of wisdom that Lloyd seemingly was born with. 

I’m not alone, either. Do a quick search for Lloyd on Google and you’ll find the Great Dob’s presence is quite strong in the virtual and real worlds. Lloyd lives on all these years later with great force, in fact, as anyone who has let the Words of Dobler wash over his or herself would expect.

Lloyd has at least one Tumblr page created in his honor (and it’s a great one at that).

Lloyd, of course, has his own Wikipedia page.

He has his own character page at IMDB.

There’s a band named after him.

There’s an online art gallery that you can virtually peruse and get all Dolberized in.

There's T-shirts and posters and bumper stickers and decals. The GIFs and JPEGs and TIFFs and graphic art and more. 

Lloyd has had comparisons drawn between himself and Jake Ryan, that chisel-jawed hunk of a loverboy from “Sixteen Candles” in the Washington Post and come out quite favorably.  

Hell, John Cusack even sank into his inner Dobler not long ago, breaking the fourth wall, and bestowing Peter Gabriel with his very own boombox during Gabriel's gig.

For a great many people, Lloyd Dobler and "Say Anything" is more than just a movie. It's a guiding point. A landmark moment. A reference point to return to again and again. Some people have not only taken great solace in Lloyd's wisdom, they've built your lives around it. If you know nothing else about "Say Anything," you probably are at least familiar with this tasty nugget of pure gold: 

“I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, or process anything as a career. I don’t want to sell anything bought or processed, or buy anything sold or processed, or process anything sold, bought, or processed, or repair anything sold, bought, or processed. You know, as a career, I don’t want to do that.”

As much as I love that quote and as much as I admire the truth it contains, I draw inspiration from Lloyd Dobler more for his risk-taking ways and the incredible sense of adventure that lives within him. 

Whereas I adored many a girl from a far but never had the courage to even utter a word, the great Lloyd Dobler acted on his attraction for one Diane Court.

  

Whereas I let too many opportunities pass me by because I was worried about the consequences more than the possibilities, the great Lloyd Dobler seized the day and kick-boxed (“the sport of the future”) his ass off to sweet, sweet contentment.

“I am looking for a dare to be great situation.”

Whereas I’ve tried with great effort to turn clever phrases meant to invoke some reaction at the right time to provide someone some sense of meaning, Lloyd does so effortlessly, such as this, my favorite of all from Lloyd:

“If you start out depressed, everything’s kind of a pleasant surprise.”

Whereas I often completely bungle the words and meaning that I’d like to get across to someone I love, Lloyd does so with great ease, including this exchange with his sister. 

Lloyd: You used to be fun. You used to be warped and twisted and hilarious... and I mean that in the best way - I mean it as a compliment! 

Constance: I was hilarious once, wasn't I? 

Whereas I use too many words to over complicate an uncomplicated situation, Lloyd uses less to say more, and I admire the hell out of that.

Diane: Are you shaking? 
Lloyd: No. 
Diane: You're shaking. 
Lloyd: I don't think so. 
Diane: You're cold. 
Lloyd: I don't think I am. 
Diane: Then why are you shaking? 
Lloyd: I don't know. I think I'm happy.

I thought of Lloyd today for the same reason I usually find myself thinking of Lloyd. Lately, I’ve been feeling as if I'm living without much purpose or reason. Floating. Drifting. Randomly moving from one seemingly inconsequential personal moment to another, hoping, wishing, praying that something dramatic might occur to break the routine of daily life. 

It's at these times that my man, Lloyd somehow, someway enters the scene and lets me know that he wouldn’t stand for such self-inflicted meandering and time-wasting. My boy Lloyd would grab himself a boombox, drive his car to his best girl’s bedroom window, and he'd confront his destiny by staring down what he wanted most in the world straight in the god damned eyes. Then he would proceed to grab onto happiness and covet it for all it is worth, not worrying about the last minute or the next one to come.

Thanks yet again, Lloyd. You’ve once again shown me the way. You truly are the keymaster. 

Day 330: The Responsibility Of Being Responsible

Throughout the years, responsibility is something I’ve always been conflicted about. On one hand, I tend to hold no greater respect than for people who, for lack of a better term, man up, embrace their various responsibilities head on, and carry on. My respect only expands for those able to carry that out day in and day out without complaining about it, without calling attention to themselves for doing it in the first place, and for not seeking the sympathy of others while doing it (even though I’ve known a good many people who are incredibly responsible despite living under especially trying circumstances and deserved the sympathy but wouldn’t have it).

On the other hand, there’s a big part of me that believes most humans waste a big chunk of their lives by becoming so deeply engrossed in their careers, social statuses, and station in life that they don't do much contemplation on matters not related to money or their self image. The questions instead seem to center around "Ho can I make more money?” “I wonder how I’d look behind the wheel of that big beauty?” “Do these pants really make my ass look smaller?” Even people who do manage to work in some occasional contemplation are still beholden to carry out a certain amount of work just to survive. The fact is you have to make bank to survive in this modern world. Now, how well off you want to survive is another question.

I have nothing against people who strive for financial success. It really makes no difference to me how you spend your energy, thoughts, and time. Your endeavors aren’t mine and vice versa. I do wish there was more of a balance, though, for those who don’t place their careers so highly up on their priority list. I, for example, would like to spend eight (but usually more) hours a day in contemplation, exploring my inner Walden, and debating philosophies and exploring the meaning of life and spend two or three hours actually at work making money to buy what I need to sustain myself and my family.  

That said, probably due in great part to growing up with parents who both have terrific work ethics, I don’t consider myself someone who just gets by. I put in the work, and where it particular concerns my career and occupation, I attempt to always do good work. Maybe that’s a pride thing. Maybe it’s inherent. Maybe instinctual. I don’t know. I just know I don’t like putting forth mediocre product, so I don’t. To me at least, work ethic is directly related to character, and character to me counts.

If there’s one thing I think I’ve come to learn at this point in my life it’s that work ethic is something you can't teach, mandate, dictate, expect, plead for, or entice from someone. As much as I think I admired my parents’ work ethic in action, I’ve witnessed too many productive, hard working parents who raised kids who couldn’t be coaxed off the couch unless the house was on fire to completely buy into that theory. In other words, I’m pretty much of the belief that either you have it or you don’t, and if you don’t, no one is going to talk you into working hard no matter how well-intentioned speeches or flat-out threats are aimed your way.

But here’s the thing I’m confused about: Some people are just lazy. I don’t respect that.  But some people don’t work (or work as much as others) because they’re in pursuit of something that means more to them than a paycheck. I do respect that (under the condition they don’t rely on the rest of us to make that possible). There’s a big difference between someone who just gets by in order to explore life and someone who wastes a life by just getting by. Left for only myself to fend for, I’m convinced I could just get by to explore life. But would I? That I’m not sure of. 

Day 329: Thanksgiving Week: Sunday

On this Sunday of Thanksgiving Week, I'm thankful for:

• The innocence and peace of a little child. Sometimes, well many times really, I think the cosmic forces at work brought a baby into my life at the age of 40 because they thought I needed the balance she would provide. On one hand, life now at 45 with teenagers and kids entering their adulthood is mostly one serious event followed by another. Everything in their lives is seemingly dire and massively consequential. Every moment is seemingly life and death. Seemingly, every occurrence is the only occurrence that matters. Their lives are the only lives that seemingly exist. Such isn't the case with a four-year-old. She lives life because life is there to be lived. She sees life for the potential it holds. A toy is a toy with endless possibilities. A trip to the grocery store is an adventure. A game made up on the spot is the greatest gift ever conceived. She loves unconditionally. She doesn't hold grudges. She's not pretentious or conniving. She's not elusive. She's not delusional. She's not confused and perpetually in search of gratification. She's just content, and I both admire and cherish that. She brings great balance. She's the constant reminder that there is pure good in the world, as is every child. That why they should be valued so greatly as the gifts they are. We need what they offer. Life changes us all. Makes us all into beings that often stray far from the child. For the balance and constant reminders and unconditional love that this little girl I was gifted with brings, I'm endlessly thankful.

• Constraint.

• Logic.

• Daydreaming.

• Persistence.

• Tender mercies.

• The voice that is Ricki Lee Jones.