Dinner for One: Part Twenty
“Oh I'm a lucky man, to count on both hands
the ones I love,..
Some folks just have one,
yeah, others, they've got none” - Pearl Jam-“Just Breathe”
“The irony of love is that it guarantees some degree of anger, fear and criticism.” - Harold H. Bloomfield
Let’s change things up with a few song lyrics. Why not? In this case, the lyrics of Pearl Jam come from a song I recently heard for the first time. I think if I’d heard it for the first time when Bonnie was more recently passed, I might well have lost my mind. Beautiful song, powerful words, and just a bit too close to home. Still, well worth sharing.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? The things we can do to ourselves without meaning to? I made a new playlist and burned it to a CD today for a small road trip. I picked the songs I thought would go well together from a rather substantial list and I went about my business. Then I started listening to the collection and wound up bawling my eyes out a few times. Seriously, what the heck was I thinking? I imagine dropping a ten-pound sledgehammer on my foot would have been a lot more painful, but I may as well have invited the blues to settle into my head and hang around for a few days. Being a proper masochist, I realized what I had done and continued playing the CD. I listened through it a couple of times, kind of like when you’re a kid and that tooth is loose, so you work it back and forth and keep making it hurt in a different way than what you are used to, I suppose.
I had no intention of torturing myself. It just happened.
I think that’s part of human nature. I think we question ourselves, confuse ourselves and, yes, torture ourselves with unsettling regularity. I don’t think we’re being deliberately cruel. I think it’s part of that whole growing process I keep going on and on about. I am a work in progress. So are most of the people who will take the time to read this. Not exactly a new concept, but then, what really is when you get right down to it?
I don’t have the day off. I’ll be working the night shift this time around, so my plan was to handle a few dozen chores (Seriously, that jury duty thing has devoured my extra spare time and I have to make it up where I can.) and get ready for a few seriously busy days. The music CD was supposed to put me in a light, cheerful mood. Maybe I’m just not programmed for light and cheerful right now. Maybe my brain is a saboteur and was derailing my plans for an easygoing day.
Maybe, more likely, really, I’m still dealing with lots of issues. Not exactly an epiphany there. I mean, come on, I still haven’t gotten around to that storage unit, or cleaned out the excess debris of my former life as completely as I should.
Former life, Jim?
Yeah. You know, the happily ever after one. We’re working on After Happily Ever After now, remember? Life goes on. At least that’s the plan.
It occurs to me (not for the first time) that I’ve been spinning my wheels for a while. I’m still okay with that to a certain extent, but the workaholic my mother bred into her children is getting edgy these days. It isn’t happy with only doing enough to get by. I suppose that’s a good thing. I suppose it’s another stage of the transition.
Or maybe I’m just tired of waiting when I’m not even sure what the hell I’m waiting for. It’s hard to say. In due time I’ll figure it out. There is no schedule here, after all. I save schedules and deadlines for the publishing business and the day job. My personal transition into whatever I’ll eventually be is not laid out in a series of charts and schematics. It will happen when it’s supposed to, and not a second sooner. I have no idea if that makes sense to anyone or not. It’s just where my mind is right now. Trust me, where my mind is changes by the hour if not by the day.
I feel restless. I know that much. And I guess that’s a good thing. I’ve gone from numb to a powerful desire to pace the room at all hours of the day and night. I’ve gone from white noise in my brain to nights when my mind won’t give me a moment’s peace. I don’t know if it’s a good feeling, but it is different. After the last year or so, I have to consider that a positive change.
Maybe. Again, it’s hard to say. It’s too soon for me to assess the changes, for now I can merely note them. As I’ve said before, I tend to over-analyze. I can’t see that changing suddenly. Life Happening: Approach With Caution. You never know when the bloody thing is going to explode, so it’s maybe best to look it over carefully and then take the next step. Or maybe I am too cautious for my own good. It’s hard to say sometimes. Life is the unexpected. And it’s the predictable and it’s a hundred other things that have to be taken together. Sometimes it’s just an easier cacophony to deal with than other times. Right now life is making a lot of noise and I don’t really know how to deal with that yet. But I’m working on it.
The thing is, I keep wanting to make sense of the world around me, and I should know by now that that trick never works. Just as soon as you have a notion of what’s going on, the dynamic changes. Again. And then again. Life, as I’ve probably said before, is glorious chaos. Without that, we have mere stagnation, which is nowhere near as fun and tends to get a bit stinky.
There are still certain elemental truths in action here. I still miss my wife. I don’t think that will ever change. I doubt that I will ever have a day where I don’t think about Bonnie with a bit of longing and a dose of pain. I still talk to her every day, knowing full well that she won’t talk back. Still, she was always willing to listen, wasn’t she? That’s worth more than a lot of people know. She is gone from my world. She is in my heart, in my soul and on my mind, but the same facts are still there. I cannot hold her in my arms, or kiss her lips, or listen while she tells me her dreams and we make plans for what we will do one day. Some day. You know, when there’s enough time and we have the extra scratch, and the stars are just right.
Lately I find myself wanting more than memories. Maybe that’s the source of my restlessness. Maybe I need to (Add your own cliché here if so inclined) expand my horizons, move on with my life, look toward the future, find someone new. You get the idea. On this too, I am not in a hurry. On this, as with everything else, I have to consider everything first. There are so many questions that have to be considered, aren’t there? Most of them come down to the same pesky questions that are always there. What next? How do you start? What the heck do you think you’re doing? Where do we go from here?
So many questions.
So little time.
Oh, wait. I just remembered.
I’m not on a schedule here.
It is what it is.
An aside if I may: My last article seems to have caused a bit of an unexpected stir, which I suspect was started when I referred to myself as having “an ugly mug.” For the record, I don’t consider myself a visual assault on the world at large. If anything I find myself unremarkable. And not in a bad way. I’m heavyset and I’m hairy. Barring male pattern baldness spontaneously attacking my scalp, I don’t see much changing along those lines. I’m in better shape than I’ve been in for over a decade (Seriously, the bike riding thing? I’m up to around nine miles a day and I think I can safely say my legs are pretty toned. You know, in the places where the lard doesn’t hide that fact.). To those who have told me I’m not Quasimodo, I say thank you. I do believe I’m flattered.
the ones I love,..
Some folks just have one,
yeah, others, they've got none” - Pearl Jam-“Just Breathe”
“The irony of love is that it guarantees some degree of anger, fear and criticism.” - Harold H. Bloomfield
Let’s change things up with a few song lyrics. Why not? In this case, the lyrics of Pearl Jam come from a song I recently heard for the first time. I think if I’d heard it for the first time when Bonnie was more recently passed, I might well have lost my mind. Beautiful song, powerful words, and just a bit too close to home. Still, well worth sharing.
It’s interesting, isn’t it? The things we can do to ourselves without meaning to? I made a new playlist and burned it to a CD today for a small road trip. I picked the songs I thought would go well together from a rather substantial list and I went about my business. Then I started listening to the collection and wound up bawling my eyes out a few times. Seriously, what the heck was I thinking? I imagine dropping a ten-pound sledgehammer on my foot would have been a lot more painful, but I may as well have invited the blues to settle into my head and hang around for a few days. Being a proper masochist, I realized what I had done and continued playing the CD. I listened through it a couple of times, kind of like when you’re a kid and that tooth is loose, so you work it back and forth and keep making it hurt in a different way than what you are used to, I suppose.
I had no intention of torturing myself. It just happened.
I think that’s part of human nature. I think we question ourselves, confuse ourselves and, yes, torture ourselves with unsettling regularity. I don’t think we’re being deliberately cruel. I think it’s part of that whole growing process I keep going on and on about. I am a work in progress. So are most of the people who will take the time to read this. Not exactly a new concept, but then, what really is when you get right down to it?
I don’t have the day off. I’ll be working the night shift this time around, so my plan was to handle a few dozen chores (Seriously, that jury duty thing has devoured my extra spare time and I have to make it up where I can.) and get ready for a few seriously busy days. The music CD was supposed to put me in a light, cheerful mood. Maybe I’m just not programmed for light and cheerful right now. Maybe my brain is a saboteur and was derailing my plans for an easygoing day.
Maybe, more likely, really, I’m still dealing with lots of issues. Not exactly an epiphany there. I mean, come on, I still haven’t gotten around to that storage unit, or cleaned out the excess debris of my former life as completely as I should.
Former life, Jim?
Yeah. You know, the happily ever after one. We’re working on After Happily Ever After now, remember? Life goes on. At least that’s the plan.
It occurs to me (not for the first time) that I’ve been spinning my wheels for a while. I’m still okay with that to a certain extent, but the workaholic my mother bred into her children is getting edgy these days. It isn’t happy with only doing enough to get by. I suppose that’s a good thing. I suppose it’s another stage of the transition.
Or maybe I’m just tired of waiting when I’m not even sure what the hell I’m waiting for. It’s hard to say. In due time I’ll figure it out. There is no schedule here, after all. I save schedules and deadlines for the publishing business and the day job. My personal transition into whatever I’ll eventually be is not laid out in a series of charts and schematics. It will happen when it’s supposed to, and not a second sooner. I have no idea if that makes sense to anyone or not. It’s just where my mind is right now. Trust me, where my mind is changes by the hour if not by the day.
I feel restless. I know that much. And I guess that’s a good thing. I’ve gone from numb to a powerful desire to pace the room at all hours of the day and night. I’ve gone from white noise in my brain to nights when my mind won’t give me a moment’s peace. I don’t know if it’s a good feeling, but it is different. After the last year or so, I have to consider that a positive change.
Maybe. Again, it’s hard to say. It’s too soon for me to assess the changes, for now I can merely note them. As I’ve said before, I tend to over-analyze. I can’t see that changing suddenly. Life Happening: Approach With Caution. You never know when the bloody thing is going to explode, so it’s maybe best to look it over carefully and then take the next step. Or maybe I am too cautious for my own good. It’s hard to say sometimes. Life is the unexpected. And it’s the predictable and it’s a hundred other things that have to be taken together. Sometimes it’s just an easier cacophony to deal with than other times. Right now life is making a lot of noise and I don’t really know how to deal with that yet. But I’m working on it.
The thing is, I keep wanting to make sense of the world around me, and I should know by now that that trick never works. Just as soon as you have a notion of what’s going on, the dynamic changes. Again. And then again. Life, as I’ve probably said before, is glorious chaos. Without that, we have mere stagnation, which is nowhere near as fun and tends to get a bit stinky.
There are still certain elemental truths in action here. I still miss my wife. I don’t think that will ever change. I doubt that I will ever have a day where I don’t think about Bonnie with a bit of longing and a dose of pain. I still talk to her every day, knowing full well that she won’t talk back. Still, she was always willing to listen, wasn’t she? That’s worth more than a lot of people know. She is gone from my world. She is in my heart, in my soul and on my mind, but the same facts are still there. I cannot hold her in my arms, or kiss her lips, or listen while she tells me her dreams and we make plans for what we will do one day. Some day. You know, when there’s enough time and we have the extra scratch, and the stars are just right.
Lately I find myself wanting more than memories. Maybe that’s the source of my restlessness. Maybe I need to (Add your own cliché here if so inclined) expand my horizons, move on with my life, look toward the future, find someone new. You get the idea. On this too, I am not in a hurry. On this, as with everything else, I have to consider everything first. There are so many questions that have to be considered, aren’t there? Most of them come down to the same pesky questions that are always there. What next? How do you start? What the heck do you think you’re doing? Where do we go from here?
So many questions.
So little time.
Oh, wait. I just remembered.
I’m not on a schedule here.
It is what it is.
An aside if I may: My last article seems to have caused a bit of an unexpected stir, which I suspect was started when I referred to myself as having “an ugly mug.” For the record, I don’t consider myself a visual assault on the world at large. If anything I find myself unremarkable. And not in a bad way. I’m heavyset and I’m hairy. Barring male pattern baldness spontaneously attacking my scalp, I don’t see much changing along those lines. I’m in better shape than I’ve been in for over a decade (Seriously, the bike riding thing? I’m up to around nine miles a day and I think I can safely say my legs are pretty toned. You know, in the places where the lard doesn’t hide that fact.). To those who have told me I’m not Quasimodo, I say thank you. I do believe I’m flattered.