I direct and play for three of the four choirs in my church. For years I only directed the Gospel Choir. Then four years ago I formed a Men's Choir. Then earlier this year I started directing the Youth Choir when our other musician became ill.
Even though it's a lot of work, with a lot of different personalities and egos, I love it! But from Labor Day to Christmas is just hectic. First there was Family and Friends Day in September to prepare for. Done. Then Men's Sunday last week. Done. Next up, Gospel Choir Anniversary Concert. Preparation in progress. Then once that's over, Christmas Eve concert. Once I run that gauntlet every year, I take January off. All I can say is, COME ON, NEW YEAR!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
A First for Me at My Old Age...But Then I Screwed It Up...
So I was in Target looking for a new comforter set that was different from my normal tan and black. I had some purple curtains I bought a couple years ago that I decided to hang, so I figured I'd go with a purple and grey (or even hold on to the tan to go with the purple) scheme for the bedroom...
So I'm looking and (over)analyzing comforter choices to go with the light purple sheet set I picked out the day before, deciding that all the grey stuff was just too boring, and the tan stuff looked like everything I had ever bought in the past. Then I came across this deep purple set, on sale for 60 bucks for comforter, shams, and bedskirt, with only one set left. Only thing, it was REALLY purple, albeit with some silver/grey trim that fit the color scheme I wanted. But I wasn't sure all that purple was masculine enough for me. So I stood there-and stood there-trying to make up my mind whether to buy the set.
After who knows how many minutes of this typical (for me) paralysis by analysis session, two attractive women came into the aisle to look at some comforters. The longer I stood there, the closer they came to me, until they were standing right next to me, checking out some comforters next to the one I was staring at.
Now those who know me have a pretty good idea of what my normal response to this situation would be: to either a) freeze up, or b) make a hasty escape. In all my almost 50 years I have NEVER approached a woman,and have generally frozen up on the rare occasions one has initiated a conversation with me. So now there are not one, but TWO women standing next to me, while I'm already in brain lock about the damned comforter, and this was a recipe for outright panic...
...but after a brief slide towards catatonia, I somehow snapped out of it! I started silently chanting to myself "talk to them, talk to them, talk to them..." And lucky for me, they seemed not to be in any hurry, as they were taking as much time looking over different comforters as I was fixated on the one (and now on talking to them).
Finally, I heard a voice that sounded like mine, and that seemed to be coming from somewhere inside of me say, "Excuse me, but do you think this comforter set is too much purple or too feminine for a man?" And wonder of wonders, the earth didn't split open and swallow me up, and neither woman laughed or rolled their eyes, or showed any other other signs of disdain at this funny looking nerdy guy actually talking to them...
"No, I don't think it's too feminine," said the first lady: dark skinned, short, petite, and curvy.
"No, not at all," said the taller, thicker, medium brown lady. "It's unisex."
"Okay, that's good to know," I said. "I think I was worried about it being too much purple. I'm so used to buying stuff that's tan or brown or black, and I wanted to do something different, but I didn't want it to be too much."
"You probably buy stuff like this, don't you?", asked the petite lady, pointing to a particularly drab tan print comforter. We all got a laugh at that as I confessed that I've had stuff along those lines.
"So do you live alone?" asked the petite lady.
"Yes, I do."
"Well what colors do you have in the rest of the room?" asked the taller lady.
"Well, I pulled out some purple curtains I had at my apartment, and hung those, which I why I was looking for something that had a little purple in it."
"Hmmm, that could be a bit too much purple," said the taller one, leading to a conversation about different ideas on what I could do in the room.
After taking all the suggestions in, I thanked the ladies for their help, grabbed the comforter off the shelf, and expressed some optimism that this was going to look great in my bedroom. As I started to walk away, the petite woman said, "So I guess people are going to be asking you who helped you decorate your bedroom."
"Well, actually, I do pretty good with my decorating. I get asked that all the time. That and who helped me with my cooking."
"Oh, so you cook too? How come you're not married?"
Now had I already started walking away after thanking them, and not missing a stride, I turned my head and said,"Oh I already been there and done that", which led to laughter all around.
"Thanks again."
"You're welcome," they said in unison, with a wave from each.
No sooner had I turned out of the aisle did I begin to regret not stopping and staying to pursue the conversation. Asking me if I lived alone, hinting around about "people" asking me who was helping me decorate? Asking why I'm not married? I know I'm fairly dense when it comes to recognizing whether a woman is interested, but those HAD to be signs the petite woman wanted a little more than a discussion about comforters...RIGHT? Oh well, that was an opportunity missed, and I was a little bummed about that, but on the other hand, this was a somewhat step forward in my heretofore non-existent ability to approach women. Maybe next time I'm near an attractive woman I won't be frozen at the thought of talking to her. And maybe next time I'll actually hang around long enough to get a phone number...
So I'm looking and (over)analyzing comforter choices to go with the light purple sheet set I picked out the day before, deciding that all the grey stuff was just too boring, and the tan stuff looked like everything I had ever bought in the past. Then I came across this deep purple set, on sale for 60 bucks for comforter, shams, and bedskirt, with only one set left. Only thing, it was REALLY purple, albeit with some silver/grey trim that fit the color scheme I wanted. But I wasn't sure all that purple was masculine enough for me. So I stood there-and stood there-trying to make up my mind whether to buy the set.
After who knows how many minutes of this typical (for me) paralysis by analysis session, two attractive women came into the aisle to look at some comforters. The longer I stood there, the closer they came to me, until they were standing right next to me, checking out some comforters next to the one I was staring at.
Now those who know me have a pretty good idea of what my normal response to this situation would be: to either a) freeze up, or b) make a hasty escape. In all my almost 50 years I have NEVER approached a woman,and have generally frozen up on the rare occasions one has initiated a conversation with me. So now there are not one, but TWO women standing next to me, while I'm already in brain lock about the damned comforter, and this was a recipe for outright panic...
...but after a brief slide towards catatonia, I somehow snapped out of it! I started silently chanting to myself "talk to them, talk to them, talk to them..." And lucky for me, they seemed not to be in any hurry, as they were taking as much time looking over different comforters as I was fixated on the one (and now on talking to them).
Finally, I heard a voice that sounded like mine, and that seemed to be coming from somewhere inside of me say, "Excuse me, but do you think this comforter set is too much purple or too feminine for a man?" And wonder of wonders, the earth didn't split open and swallow me up, and neither woman laughed or rolled their eyes, or showed any other other signs of disdain at this funny looking nerdy guy actually talking to them...
"No, I don't think it's too feminine," said the first lady: dark skinned, short, petite, and curvy.
"No, not at all," said the taller, thicker, medium brown lady. "It's unisex."
"Okay, that's good to know," I said. "I think I was worried about it being too much purple. I'm so used to buying stuff that's tan or brown or black, and I wanted to do something different, but I didn't want it to be too much."
"You probably buy stuff like this, don't you?", asked the petite lady, pointing to a particularly drab tan print comforter. We all got a laugh at that as I confessed that I've had stuff along those lines.
"So do you live alone?" asked the petite lady.
"Yes, I do."
"Well what colors do you have in the rest of the room?" asked the taller lady.
"Well, I pulled out some purple curtains I had at my apartment, and hung those, which I why I was looking for something that had a little purple in it."
"Hmmm, that could be a bit too much purple," said the taller one, leading to a conversation about different ideas on what I could do in the room.
After taking all the suggestions in, I thanked the ladies for their help, grabbed the comforter off the shelf, and expressed some optimism that this was going to look great in my bedroom. As I started to walk away, the petite woman said, "So I guess people are going to be asking you who helped you decorate your bedroom."
"Well, actually, I do pretty good with my decorating. I get asked that all the time. That and who helped me with my cooking."
"Oh, so you cook too? How come you're not married?"
Now had I already started walking away after thanking them, and not missing a stride, I turned my head and said,"Oh I already been there and done that", which led to laughter all around.
"Thanks again."
"You're welcome," they said in unison, with a wave from each.
No sooner had I turned out of the aisle did I begin to regret not stopping and staying to pursue the conversation. Asking me if I lived alone, hinting around about "people" asking me who was helping me decorate? Asking why I'm not married? I know I'm fairly dense when it comes to recognizing whether a woman is interested, but those HAD to be signs the petite woman wanted a little more than a discussion about comforters...RIGHT? Oh well, that was an opportunity missed, and I was a little bummed about that, but on the other hand, this was a somewhat step forward in my heretofore non-existent ability to approach women. Maybe next time I'm near an attractive woman I won't be frozen at the thought of talking to her. And maybe next time I'll actually hang around long enough to get a phone number...
Thursday, September 22, 2011
So who am I, anyway (Part II)
All right, so I'm going to continued to address my profile description point by point. Part II ended with me talking about my kids, their kids, and their mama. Let me move on to the next items in my description:
3. A son, a brother. I am the oldest child of a single mother with three children by three different fathers. The fifth of my father's eight children (that he knew of / admitted to) by six different women. My brother, sister,and I (mother's children) grew up together, and have a lifetime's worth of stories, memories (mostly good ones), and shared experiences. We remain close and would do anything (legal, lol) for each other. On the other hand, I only met my (living) brothers and sisters from my father's side five years ago, when I was already in my mid-40s (one brother had passed away as a teen). The oldest of my father's children is, by age and personality, the ringleader of the bunch, and he makes it a point to keep in touch with me and keep me in the fold. The rest I see at funerals or parties (although I do occasionally talk to one of my sisters-in-law). I'm sure I will have an additional post or three on this topic.
4. A friend. I've never experienced, nor do I fully understand, the kind of bonds some friends have with other, that seems to supercede everyone and everything thing else, family and significant others included. Can't say I ever want to be that close to someone I'm not related to or in a serious romantic relation ship with. But even though I don't have any friendships quite on that (bordering on insanity) level, I do have many friends, buddies, acquaintances, and associates. I would say I'm loyal to the closest of them, and a good, reliable, fun, chill guy with the rest. My natural quiet nature allows for them to have someone to talk with minimal interruptions and a good memory of the details of what they had to say; my (mostly) harmless brand of sarcasm keeps them amused and/or on their toes; and a rep as a brainiac, and, yes, a "renaissance man" (even if none of them ever specifically use that term around or in reference to me, that I know of) usually leads to my inclusion in all manner of spirited debates and discussions, not to mention my being kind of a "go to guy" for information of various sorts. And once I know what and where the skeletons in your closet are, the details will not be spread all over Baltimore...
5. A lover. Contrary to my fantasies, I don't have a different woman - or ANY woman - in my bed every night (I guess that why they're fantasies). And my introverted personality and lack of nerve in approaching women has undoubtedly cost me many opportunities for love/romance/sex...But I haven't exactly beena priest (bad example) a monk (eh, they're probably getting some too, even if it's from each other) a hermit either.
So I guess the question, then, is, am I a good lover? Who knows? I guess it's not really up for me to say, and I was always afraid to ask...all I can say is:
* I've never had a woman laugh at me - not in my face, anyway (well, there was that one REALLY ticklish girl whose hot spots all turned her own and made her giggle all at the same time when touched...so she wasn't really laughing at me, and even if she was, she wasn't laughing in my face - well, because my face was usually in other "locations").
*I've never had a woman cuss me out over sex (well, there was this one chick whose outfit did such a good job of hiding that human shar-pei meets the Michelin Man body that the unrestrained "EWWWWWW" face did not go unnoticed, and got me cussed out for not appreciating her "beauty" and "sexiness"...ugh, yeah, OK, can I go now?
* I've never had a woman kick me out of bed (well, there was that one woman who emitted a rather overpowering "scent" upon removing her panties...being Mr. Nice Guy, I couldn't come out and tell her about herself, so we did this dance of her trying to get this going and me beating around the bush (not HER bush) until finally I had to man up and let know what the problem was. So, yeah, I got thrown out, but hey, her "aroma" was not my fault...
So what does all of that say about me as a lover? Hell if I know...like everyone else, I've had my share of mis-adventures, but overall I'd say the quality of my love life has been pretty good (the QUANTITY, on the other hand, could stand some improvement). I'm going to go with the assumption that I hold my end of things up all right...I'll keep believing that until someone tells me otherwise. Of course, it would help to actually engage in some lover-type encounters a little more frequently that my current pace....Ladies, any volunteers?
3. A son, a brother. I am the oldest child of a single mother with three children by three different fathers. The fifth of my father's eight children (that he knew of / admitted to) by six different women. My brother, sister,and I (mother's children) grew up together, and have a lifetime's worth of stories, memories (mostly good ones), and shared experiences. We remain close and would do anything (legal, lol) for each other. On the other hand, I only met my (living) brothers and sisters from my father's side five years ago, when I was already in my mid-40s (one brother had passed away as a teen). The oldest of my father's children is, by age and personality, the ringleader of the bunch, and he makes it a point to keep in touch with me and keep me in the fold. The rest I see at funerals or parties (although I do occasionally talk to one of my sisters-in-law). I'm sure I will have an additional post or three on this topic.
4. A friend. I've never experienced, nor do I fully understand, the kind of bonds some friends have with other, that seems to supercede everyone and everything thing else, family and significant others included. Can't say I ever want to be that close to someone I'm not related to or in a serious romantic relation ship with. But even though I don't have any friendships quite on that (bordering on insanity) level, I do have many friends, buddies, acquaintances, and associates. I would say I'm loyal to the closest of them, and a good, reliable, fun, chill guy with the rest. My natural quiet nature allows for them to have someone to talk with minimal interruptions and a good memory of the details of what they had to say; my (mostly) harmless brand of sarcasm keeps them amused and/or on their toes; and a rep as a brainiac, and, yes, a "renaissance man" (even if none of them ever specifically use that term around or in reference to me, that I know of) usually leads to my inclusion in all manner of spirited debates and discussions, not to mention my being kind of a "go to guy" for information of various sorts. And once I know what and where the skeletons in your closet are, the details will not be spread all over Baltimore...
5. A lover. Contrary to my fantasies, I don't have a different woman - or ANY woman - in my bed every night (I guess that why they're fantasies). And my introverted personality and lack of nerve in approaching women has undoubtedly cost me many opportunities for love/romance/sex...But I haven't exactly been
So I guess the question, then, is, am I a good lover? Who knows? I guess it's not really up for me to say, and I was always afraid to ask...all I can say is:
* I've never had a woman laugh at me - not in my face, anyway (well, there was that one REALLY ticklish girl whose hot spots all turned her own and made her giggle all at the same time when touched...so she wasn't really laughing at me, and even if she was, she wasn't laughing in my face - well, because my face was usually in other "locations").
*I've never had a woman cuss me out over sex (well, there was this one chick whose outfit did such a good job of hiding that human shar-pei meets the Michelin Man body that the unrestrained "EWWWWWW" face did not go unnoticed, and got me cussed out for not appreciating her "beauty" and "sexiness"...ugh, yeah, OK, can I go now?
* I've never had a woman kick me out of bed (well, there was that one woman who emitted a rather overpowering "scent" upon removing her panties...being Mr. Nice Guy, I couldn't come out and tell her about herself, so we did this dance of her trying to get this going and me beating around the bush (not HER bush) until finally I had to man up and let know what the problem was. So, yeah, I got thrown out, but hey, her "aroma" was not my fault...
So what does all of that say about me as a lover? Hell if I know...like everyone else, I've had my share of mis-adventures, but overall I'd say the quality of my love life has been pretty good (the QUANTITY, on the other hand, could stand some improvement). I'm going to go with the assumption that I hold my end of things up all right...I'll keep believing that until someone tells me otherwise. Of course, it would help to actually engage in some lover-type encounters a little more frequently that my current pace....Ladies, any volunteers?
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Random Shit...
* Hey, look, if you want to squeeze your seat-and-a-half sized ass into the one seat next to me on the bus, OK, I can live with that...but why you gotta be squirming around for your cell phone AFTER you sit down? You shoulda had that shit in hand BEFORE you started taking up my space...SITCHO ASS STILL!
* Speaking of which: they keep making buses smaller and more compact, in an effort to be more "green", while in the meantime the people riding the buses are getting bigger and bigger...
* As 21 year-old California college student sets the Guinness Record for the longest tongue, at 3.8 inches (about twice as long as the average tongue):
Good googly moogly, I bet she can do some thangs with THAT...
* Okay, so currently have 11 Words With Friends games going on simultaneously...nah, I'm not addicted to this game...
* Why do people on Facebook hit the "like" button on their own statuses or comments? Of course you like it; you wrote it!
* Same goes for people putting "IJS" or "IMO" at the end of their comments...we know "YJS", because YOU JUST SAID IT! We know it's "IYO"; YOU JUST STATED IT! Whew, redundancy irks me...
* Sometimes you just need to have a day to rest your body and brain and do absolutely NOTHING...today was that day for me...aside from going to buy groceries, I didn't do a thing but alternate between eating, watching football and movies, and sleeping.
* Well, so much for resting...the "Wild Thing" (my #2 grandson) has arrived for me to babysit while his mama goes to work...
* Geez, it would nice if I had some company for after the Wild Thing goes to sleep...
* Especially if SHE were the company:
* Speaking of which: they keep making buses smaller and more compact, in an effort to be more "green", while in the meantime the people riding the buses are getting bigger and bigger...
* As 21 year-old California college student sets the Guinness Record for the longest tongue, at 3.8 inches (about twice as long as the average tongue):
Good googly moogly, I bet she can do some thangs with THAT...
* Okay, so currently have 11 Words With Friends games going on simultaneously...nah, I'm not addicted to this game...
* Why do people on Facebook hit the "like" button on their own statuses or comments? Of course you like it; you wrote it!
* Same goes for people putting "IJS" or "IMO" at the end of their comments...we know "YJS", because YOU JUST SAID IT! We know it's "IYO"; YOU JUST STATED IT! Whew, redundancy irks me...
* Sometimes you just need to have a day to rest your body and brain and do absolutely NOTHING...today was that day for me...aside from going to buy groceries, I didn't do a thing but alternate between eating, watching football and movies, and sleeping.
* Well, so much for resting...the "Wild Thing" (my #2 grandson) has arrived for me to babysit while his mama goes to work...
* Geez, it would nice if I had some company for after the Wild Thing goes to sleep...
* Especially if SHE were the company:
So, who am I, anyway? (Part I)
Yeah, I know I have a description in the "about me" section, but I figured what I wrote there doesn't really say a lot, even for me. Thus the urge to want to expand on telling folk about myself - assuming, of course, that I actually gain some followers who might want to know who the heck it is that's writing this crap.
Since I am an obsessive list-maker, I'll make one here to address and expand on the stuff I put in my profile (WARNING: NERD ALERT!!!):
1. Father of two daughters and a son. My oldest (a daughter) is soon to be 26 (geeeez, just the thought of that makes my ass feel decrepit), very pretty, graceful, stylish, sassy, bossy, and inherited her mother's family's penchant for nursing grudges over God knows what. Always seemed to relish her status of big sister. Mother to a just-turned 7 year old son. My other two (one boy, one girl) are 23 year-old twins, who are tempermentally as opposite from each other as one might imagine two former womb-mates could have turned out to be: he is tall, muscular, handsome - and he KNOWS it. Brash, hyperconfident, loyal to his family and friends, fun loving. He has, to everyone's surprise (except his own), transformed himself from something of a problem child, always questioning authority and always the jokester and slacker who did everything his own (usually maddening to the rest of us) way, to a Marine's Marine, dedicated, proud and strong, who has learned that there is a time a place for everything; She, on the other hand, has gone in the opposite direction, from a serious, fiercely dedicated student involved in all manner of activities, to one who has lost her way a bit. Still very smart, quiet, athletic, musical, as well as good-looking - but hasn't yet harnessed all that ability and channeled it into a defnitive direction. A little too much like her father, for better and worse...each is the parent of a son; his is almost a year old, hers will be two on New Year's Eve.
1a. Grandfather of three boys. My #1 grandson has a birthday of 9/11, born three years to the date after (and almost at the same time of ) the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. All boy, very energetic, an avid reader, speller, and video game player.Always wants to know people's names, and rarely forgets a name once he is told what it is. Loves football and baseball, and knows the number of every Baltimore Ravens player. A favorite with the fans in his Auntie's season ticket section at Orioles Park at Camden Yards. Grandson #2 - the wild thing - was born on New Year's Eve two years ago. Very busy, into every damned thing, loves music, can't walk past a piano without wanting to play it - like his Pop-Pop - and doesn't bang the keys like a lot of little kids, but actually uses his fingers to try to gently press the keys (a star in the making?)...I just met grandson #3 for the first time last month, when my son and his wife came to town for our family reunion. He is almost a year old, a butterball, and just as cute as can be. Quiet, except when there's music on, then he's bouncing and singing...can't wait to see him again, to get more a feel of his personality. I think he was a little overwhelmed by all the new people smiling at and talking to him, and passing him around...
2. (All with the same woman, thank you). We grew up in the same church, but I had no clue who she was until we started playing on a church softball team together. Even then, I still didn't know her until she got my phone number from one of the other team members and started calling me (part of a lifelong pattern of me becoming involved with women by means other than me actually taking the initiative to go up and talk to them. On the one hand, I guess I'm fortunate for having met ANY women at all without ever having approached one in my lifetime; on the other hand, I probably have missed out on a TON of opportunities because of this particular lack of initiative. However, this is a topic for another day, so I'll move on...). She was tall, leggy, busty, beautiful, and super smart. I was shocked she wanted to have anything to do with me (another lifelong pattern with me and women).
After five years together, we (she?) decided we should get married. I wasn't particularly excited at the prospect. Oh I figured we would eventually get married, just not at ages 22 and 19, and with me trying to finish college. On top of that, even though (I thought) I loved her, I wasn't all that sure I actually, you know, LIKED her. But she was pretty insistent on getting married ASAP, and kind of vaguely hinted that if we didn't then it would be time for her to move on. As a result, I (and this is a third lifelong pattern I've had with women I've been involved with) worried that without her I'd never find anyone else, and end up alone. Plus, there was a lot of sex involved, so I'm sure that clouded my judgment as well...
Anyway, we got married, and nine months later came baby #1, followed in two years by the twins...after that a few years of struggle. followed by us putting on our track shoes and running the rat race as fast as we were able (the rats ALWAYS win the race, but what the hell, you can at least scoop up some crumbs and leftover cheese that their fat, happy asses don't get to), moving up a little in the world, and creating a poster-perfect image of ourselves as a happy, loving, middle class American ideal of a family...except that the two people at the head of the family had grown miserable with, and disconnected from, each other. We stayed together about as long as we could stand it - 16 years - for the kids' sake, we told ourselves-until finally, even they understood that enough was enough...
In ther ten years since we split up, there has been the usual share of ugliness, accusation, underhandedness, etc., that one might expect in such circumstances. There would have to be an emergency or event of extreme importance for us to even speak to each other these days. But it's kind of pointless to be bitter or resentful or pissed off after all this time. We had some good years, good times, and three wonderful children. Nothing left to complain about at this point...well, except for one thing: I fully blame her for my Pepsi addiction. Growing up, I hardly ever drank anything but Kool Aid. Soda was a luxury partaken of only at picnics, parties, the beach and ballgames. Then I got around my wife and her family, and all they fucking drank was Pepsi. Pepsi with EVERYTHING...now all these years later, no matter how hard I try, I can't totally shake myself loose from drinking the stuff...Damn you to hell, woman!
Since I am an obsessive list-maker, I'll make one here to address and expand on the stuff I put in my profile (WARNING: NERD ALERT!!!):
1. Father of two daughters and a son. My oldest (a daughter) is soon to be 26 (geeeez, just the thought of that makes my ass feel decrepit), very pretty, graceful, stylish, sassy, bossy, and inherited her mother's family's penchant for nursing grudges over God knows what. Always seemed to relish her status of big sister. Mother to a just-turned 7 year old son. My other two (one boy, one girl) are 23 year-old twins, who are tempermentally as opposite from each other as one might imagine two former womb-mates could have turned out to be: he is tall, muscular, handsome - and he KNOWS it. Brash, hyperconfident, loyal to his family and friends, fun loving. He has, to everyone's surprise (except his own), transformed himself from something of a problem child, always questioning authority and always the jokester and slacker who did everything his own (usually maddening to the rest of us) way, to a Marine's Marine, dedicated, proud and strong, who has learned that there is a time a place for everything; She, on the other hand, has gone in the opposite direction, from a serious, fiercely dedicated student involved in all manner of activities, to one who has lost her way a bit. Still very smart, quiet, athletic, musical, as well as good-looking - but hasn't yet harnessed all that ability and channeled it into a defnitive direction. A little too much like her father, for better and worse...each is the parent of a son; his is almost a year old, hers will be two on New Year's Eve.
1a. Grandfather of three boys. My #1 grandson has a birthday of 9/11, born three years to the date after (and almost at the same time of ) the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. All boy, very energetic, an avid reader, speller, and video game player.Always wants to know people's names, and rarely forgets a name once he is told what it is. Loves football and baseball, and knows the number of every Baltimore Ravens player. A favorite with the fans in his Auntie's season ticket section at Orioles Park at Camden Yards. Grandson #2 - the wild thing - was born on New Year's Eve two years ago. Very busy, into every damned thing, loves music, can't walk past a piano without wanting to play it - like his Pop-Pop - and doesn't bang the keys like a lot of little kids, but actually uses his fingers to try to gently press the keys (a star in the making?)...I just met grandson #3 for the first time last month, when my son and his wife came to town for our family reunion. He is almost a year old, a butterball, and just as cute as can be. Quiet, except when there's music on, then he's bouncing and singing...can't wait to see him again, to get more a feel of his personality. I think he was a little overwhelmed by all the new people smiling at and talking to him, and passing him around...
2. (All with the same woman, thank you). We grew up in the same church, but I had no clue who she was until we started playing on a church softball team together. Even then, I still didn't know her until she got my phone number from one of the other team members and started calling me (part of a lifelong pattern of me becoming involved with women by means other than me actually taking the initiative to go up and talk to them. On the one hand, I guess I'm fortunate for having met ANY women at all without ever having approached one in my lifetime; on the other hand, I probably have missed out on a TON of opportunities because of this particular lack of initiative. However, this is a topic for another day, so I'll move on...). She was tall, leggy, busty, beautiful, and super smart. I was shocked she wanted to have anything to do with me (another lifelong pattern with me and women).
After five years together, we (she?) decided we should get married. I wasn't particularly excited at the prospect. Oh I figured we would eventually get married, just not at ages 22 and 19, and with me trying to finish college. On top of that, even though (I thought) I loved her, I wasn't all that sure I actually, you know, LIKED her. But she was pretty insistent on getting married ASAP, and kind of vaguely hinted that if we didn't then it would be time for her to move on. As a result, I (and this is a third lifelong pattern I've had with women I've been involved with) worried that without her I'd never find anyone else, and end up alone. Plus, there was a lot of sex involved, so I'm sure that clouded my judgment as well...
Anyway, we got married, and nine months later came baby #1, followed in two years by the twins...after that a few years of struggle. followed by us putting on our track shoes and running the rat race as fast as we were able (the rats ALWAYS win the race, but what the hell, you can at least scoop up some crumbs and leftover cheese that their fat, happy asses don't get to), moving up a little in the world, and creating a poster-perfect image of ourselves as a happy, loving, middle class American ideal of a family...except that the two people at the head of the family had grown miserable with, and disconnected from, each other. We stayed together about as long as we could stand it - 16 years - for the kids' sake, we told ourselves-until finally, even they understood that enough was enough...
In ther ten years since we split up, there has been the usual share of ugliness, accusation, underhandedness, etc., that one might expect in such circumstances. There would have to be an emergency or event of extreme importance for us to even speak to each other these days. But it's kind of pointless to be bitter or resentful or pissed off after all this time. We had some good years, good times, and three wonderful children. Nothing left to complain about at this point...well, except for one thing: I fully blame her for my Pepsi addiction. Growing up, I hardly ever drank anything but Kool Aid. Soda was a luxury partaken of only at picnics, parties, the beach and ballgames. Then I got around my wife and her family, and all they fucking drank was Pepsi. Pepsi with EVERYTHING...now all these years later, no matter how hard I try, I can't totally shake myself loose from drinking the stuff...Damn you to hell, woman!
(TO BE CONTINUED...)
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Let me introduce myself...
Well, this is my first ever blog, so I can't say with any certainty that I know what the hell I'm going to be writing about, or if anyone will give a damn about me writing it (or even find the blog to read it in the first place)...
Why am I here? I have throughout most of my life been a person reluctant to talk much about myself. Not only that, but I tend to be derisive of people that have a need to constantly talk about themselves, and share every minute detail of their lives with the world. I was dragged kicking and screaming into using Facebook (and drugged, bound and gagged before being dragged into Twitter), so making the move to writing a blog was something I never considered.
Then a couple months ago I found myself in a psychologist's office after a questionnaire filled out as a new patient for a new (for me) Doctor's office, with the results indicating some signs of depression (not a huge surprise). I had heard or read that it takes a little time to establish a relationship with a therapist before progress can be made, but after two months of weekly appointments (complete with $40 co-pays), I found myself wondering -- as I watched the therapist stare into her computer screen, typing some occasional notes as I answered the same questions as the week before and the week before that -- "is she even fucking listening to me?" At the end of that session, she suggested I find a psychiatrist to see, so that I could perhaps be prescibed medication that she couldn't give. "So I wouldn't be coming to you anymore?" I asked. "No, you would still come back to see me." Ahhh, great, co-pays at TWO places!
So here I am, blogging about myself, with the possiblity of no one ever reading anything I write, as opposed to talking to mental health professionals, with the possibility that they wouldn't be paying much attention either. At least this blog ain't costing me 40 bucks a pop...
P.S. - As for my Post title, it has multiple meanings for me. If you really wanna have an idea, google or wikipedia the novel and movie, "The Postman Always Rings Twice". As for the part of the title in parentheses, well, that meaning will reveal itself in time...
Why am I here? I have throughout most of my life been a person reluctant to talk much about myself. Not only that, but I tend to be derisive of people that have a need to constantly talk about themselves, and share every minute detail of their lives with the world. I was dragged kicking and screaming into using Facebook (and drugged, bound and gagged before being dragged into Twitter), so making the move to writing a blog was something I never considered.
Then a couple months ago I found myself in a psychologist's office after a questionnaire filled out as a new patient for a new (for me) Doctor's office, with the results indicating some signs of depression (not a huge surprise). I had heard or read that it takes a little time to establish a relationship with a therapist before progress can be made, but after two months of weekly appointments (complete with $40 co-pays), I found myself wondering -- as I watched the therapist stare into her computer screen, typing some occasional notes as I answered the same questions as the week before and the week before that -- "is she even fucking listening to me?" At the end of that session, she suggested I find a psychiatrist to see, so that I could perhaps be prescibed medication that she couldn't give. "So I wouldn't be coming to you anymore?" I asked. "No, you would still come back to see me." Ahhh, great, co-pays at TWO places!
So here I am, blogging about myself, with the possiblity of no one ever reading anything I write, as opposed to talking to mental health professionals, with the possibility that they wouldn't be paying much attention either. At least this blog ain't costing me 40 bucks a pop...
P.S. - As for my Post title, it has multiple meanings for me. If you really wanna have an idea, google or wikipedia the novel and movie, "The Postman Always Rings Twice". As for the part of the title in parentheses, well, that meaning will reveal itself in time...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)