A day is a day...

is just another day.



Life tried to teach me a lesson. Yes it did. Flash back to Wednesday. It was just another day like every other day and every other day and every other... well... you get it, don't you? It was nothing special. Well, it was a day off work, if you count that as special. I woke up, had a snack, watched some TV, nothing groundbreaking. I didn't discover the cure for cancer or anything. I did get a buzz from a friend asking if I wanted to go out for lunch, though, so I did.



I thought that would be a nice excuse to get off the couch.



I was right.



I had a perfectly lovely sandwhich and a nice tall brewskie with a friend. The day was shaping up to be just grand.



I ran a few errands on that side of town, and figured I'd swing by work real quick on my way home. Y'know, to get a few things done. Nothing big. What should have been ten minutes turned into an hour and ten minutes. Nothing new there, either. Just a day like any other day.



Or so I thought. This is where life decided to get me.



It was my day off and I was at work. I do that a lot. Apparently too much.



As I was walking to my car, I looked up to see a flock of seagulls flying above me. Not the '80's band, mind you, but an actual flock of seagulls. At that moment a memory came flooding back to me. My elementary school in NY was near the water, so we had tons of seagulls flying over head every morning. All the kids used to wait outside of the school until the morning bell rang and we would line up in our classes and walk, single file, to our rooms. There was this one kid who always wore a leather bomber jacket whenever the weather was cool enough for him to pull it off. Every morning he was wearing that jacket, one of the seagulls above would take aim and drop a load on him, leaving a white streak down his black jacket.



I know you think I'm exaggerating by saying that every time he wore the jacket he got crapped on, and you're right. But it happened often enough that no one would stand around him before that morning bell wrang.



So I was thinking about that poor kid who got perpetually covered in pooh when I felt something on my arm.



Seriously?



I'm walking through the parking lot smiling to myself at the memory of Bird-Pooh-Boy when a seagull takes carefull aim and drops a bomb right on my arm.



I mean.... seriously?



That's what I get for working on my day off...



Wednesday night was fun, though... I went to see Sublime feat. Rome and The Dirty Heads.







The music was amazing, the bartender forgot what I had on my tab and the women were plentiful.



Only problem with the women is that everyone I ended up talking to either smoked or was still in high school. Both of which are deal breakers for me. The latter makes me feel like a dirty old man and the former makes me smell like a dirty old man.



For the record, I approached the smokers and I was approached by the high schoolers.

Girl sits down next to me: Hi! These guys are awesome!

Me: Seriously. I never heard of them before this year, but my friend got me hooked.

Girl: Me too! This song is totally my favorite!

We both bob our heads to the music enjoying the sweet, sweet melodies...

Me, trying to make some conversation: I've never actually been to this place before. Have you?

Girl, makes a pouty face: No! My parents NEVER let me go to the good shows, but I totally got them to let me come tonight!

Me, with a smile on my face while I realize this girl is, like, 17: Parents suck!
Girl: Totally.

We both kind of look around as the song ends. The lead singer says something about never being in Alabama before and everyone in the crowd screams at the top of their lungs to welcome them.

Me: So... are you from around here?

Girl: Yeah! I go to _______ High School! You?!?

Me: Nope, I just moved here a few months ago...

Girl: Oh! Do you go to Faulkner?!? I know Soooooooo many people there!

Me: Nope, I graduated college already...

Girl: Really?

Me: Yeah, back in.... 2002.

Girl: Oh....

The next song starts and we both start singing along. The girls eyebrows begin to furrow as she does the math in her head. I can see her thinking "ok... he's a little older. he already graduated college, that's sooooooo cool... wait... he graduated college in 2002? i was in 4th grade when he graduated college..."

Girl: oh...

Me: Yeah.

Girl: ...

Me: Yeah....

Girl: ...

Me: Well... I love this song... I'm going to listen to it from over there.

Girl: Yeah...

Me: Enjoy the show!

Girl: yeah... you too...



awkward.

I fell in love again today.
I couldn't help it... I never can.

She is my night.

sometimes I wait for her, sitting at the foot of my bed
she walks
slowly
across the room
and brushes her hair back as she smiles
the way she looks at me
its like we share a secret
a secret so private
so ours
that we share it with just a look
as she gets closer
just out of reach
she whispers my name
and i
just
.
.
.
.

pieces of me.

I've gone into hiding. Avoiding the world. But not really.
I'm becoming more transparent.
I wish I could just disappear.
Spoon.
I look back at everything and realize that I was set up to fail. I never saw what 'good' really looked like. All I saw were pieces.
Never what the puzzle looked like when it was all put together.
I'm great at finding the smooth edges and building the frame, but when it comes to filling in the middle, I'm completely lost.
I came close once, but couldn't quite find all the right pieces.
Since then it seems like the only thing I'm good at is helping other people get all their pieces in place.
That's a great thing, don't get me wrong
I just want to see a clear picture of my life instead of all the pieces of the puzzle mixed together.

Every time I step away for a while it takes me a little while to get back into things. I'm nto sure why I haven't been writing. It's not like I don't have anything to say... I always have things to say.

I just don't always know how to say those things.

Or maybe I don't know which things to say.

It'll come though...

Soon.

This is just a start.

Headaches spawn words

and just like that its back to old times. we hit the dance floor and our bodies move close together. her fingertips trace words on the back of my neck. the things she says and the way she moves all send the same message. things are, now, as they were ten years ago when nights like this were more common. it didn't matter that so much time had passed. didn't matter that we weren't kids anymore. it didn't even matter that we lived in different worlds now. things are as they always have been. feelings haven't faded. they haven't just disappeared. the difference is that now there's just no chance for us to actually act on the things we say. no matter what was said between us, what secret messages that only she and i knew, nothing would ever happen. nothing ever had. And that was somehow comforting. It made what we were doing ok. I woulnd't say the things I said to any stranger, lest I actually be taken seriously. And she wouldn't say those things to anyone but me. But she did, because I was safe. We were outlets for each other. A way to live another life, even if it was only for a few hours.

...

life became beautiful the day i met you.

...

there's just something about being another year older and not a bit wiser. I look around and while the walls have changed, what's inside hasn't.
...
a penny for your thoughts
a nickel for your kiss
a dime if you tell me that you love me
...
this is my rifle
this is my gun
this one's for fighting
this one's for fun
...
The world is a crazy place
filled with crazy people
doing crazy things.
...
I have rediscovered Tazo Tea. It's wonderful.
...
Every dark cloud has a silver lining
Every thorn has its rose
Its always darkest before the dawn.
horsepucky.
...
despite
all
my
rage
i
am
still
just
a
rat
in
a
cage
...
Sometimes I dream that I'm falling
or that I'm failing.
Sometimes I dream that I'm in Mexico
in a mariacci band.
I reach out to feed the wolves
as they nip away on my hand.
Chasing.
Chased.
Sometimes I dream like I'm falling
or that I'm failing
And I'm just waiting for this dream to end.

My First Proposal - Revisited

I've proposed to seven different women. One of them said yes. I think you all know what happened there, but I'm not so sure you know about all the others.
Actually, I lied already. I only wrote three sentences in that first paragraph and one of them contained a lie. Can you guess which one? I'll give you a hint... it wasn't the first and it wasn't the last. Got it? Okay, maybe you don't got it so let me spell it out for you. The second sentence was a lie. It wasn't intentional. It just wasn't true. Several of them said yes... or at least they didn't say "no." I only actually married one, though, and that's what I meant. I didn't mean for this to be a sticking point, I just wanted to be up front with you from the beginning. And speaking of the beginning, why don't I just get this story going and tell you about the first time I ever proposed.
I was forced into it.
Seriously.
I didn't want to do it, but she forced my hand. She even gave me the ring that I was supposed to give her when I asked. It was plastic. And pink. And I think my teacher actually gave it to her just for this purpose. She was all for the union, even if I was hesitant. We were in pre-school, so the teacher thought it was all fun and games, but I knew better. I knew Allison was looking for a lifelong partnership, but at five years of age, I just was not willing to make that kind of commitment.
I remember sitting on some steps leading from the school to the playground. It must have been recess (although it was pre-school, so what isn't recess when you're that young? I think it was just outdoor-controlled-madness as opposed to indoor-controlled-madness, but either way, we were definitely outside and sitting on steps at school.) She kept saying that we should get married and I kept giving her all sorts of perfectly logical reasons why we shouldn't.
When I told her, "We’re only five!" she would counter with "that's, like, a bazillion dog years! We can have a puppy wedding!" I never owned a dog so had no idea how old we were in dog years. Allison - 1 :: David - 0.
I said, "we don't have any money, how can we have a wedding, we can't even buy a cake let alone a car or a house, I'm in no position, financially, to support a family!" She responded with, "I have a cupcake and we can live with my parents, they like you!" I couldn't argue. When she produced the cupcake from her backpack, it looked delicious and her parents really did like me. Allison - 2 :: David 0.
I started to get worried, so I started reaching, "But I'm Jewish and you're a shiksa, it would never work out between us. My mother controls me and my grandparents would disown me if I married someone outside my faith!" I thought I had her with that one! I could smell victory and a life of bachelorhood and debauchery. But she was wiley, that Allison... She came back with the only thing that could throw a monkey wrench in my sterling logic, "what's Jewish?" Damn. She had me again. I was five, I didn't know what Jewish meant! I was barely able to dress myself let alone understand the complexities of my budding relationship with god! Allison - 3 :: David - 0.
She handed me the ring and told me to put it on her finger. I was out of excuses. I held the ring and looked into it's glossy pink surface and I could see my future. And that future was a frightening, frightening place. I could just see it now…
Engaged at five years old. Married by the first grade. I would move into her parent's basement until I hit puberty and moveI into her bedroom. My family would disown me, but, upon hearing that in middle school, I would decide to start myself on the track to become an accountant they would welcome me back with open arms after Allison converted to Judaism. In high school, on our tenth anniversary, we would get into a huge fight and I would call my friend with a car and he would pick me up and I would stay at his house for a week. We would make up and forget what the fight was even about. We'd move to the city after high school. I'd go to college, get my degree in accounting while she studied to become a teacher. Upon graduation we move back to the suburbs and celebrate our 14 year wedding anniversary and our 21st birthdays at the same time with the first bottle of wine we'd purchased legally. Our first child would be a boy and we would name him Alec, after my dad. The second would come two years later and we would name her Sarah.
It was all happening too fast. I was still five years old holding that pink, plastic ring. She was looking at me with those clear blue eyes.
I slipped the ring on her finger and she kissed me on the nose.
It was love.
But it didn't last. We went to different kindergarten schools.
Sometimes I wonder if she still has the ring.
I wonder if she married an accountant.

Wanderlust

It feels like everything is just spinning around in circles.

It's starting to take hold of me again. I've started researching Belize. Dreaming. Planning. How much money do I make? Ok... now how much can I save? Will that be enough? It will. I can do it. 5 years. If I get lucky I could do it sooner.

Seattle or Portland? Those could work too. Probably sooner. Definitely sooner. But definitely a different life than Belize. A much different life than bama. Much different than Florida, too. More my style. More so than Belize.

I don't know where these thoughts of me in a tropical paradise come from. That's not my style. I like the beach, but I'm not in love with it. I like cities too much to abandon that for an island. Don't I? I think I do. What do I really know, though?

Not a whole heck of a lot, I can tell you that right now.

What would I do in Belize? Like, what would I do for a job. How would I earn a living. I'm not a farmer. I don't grow things or raise things or even make things. Maybe I could open a resort of some sort. The only business skill I really have is communicating with people. Maybe I could do some sort of sales or marketing for an existing something or other.

Or maybe staying in the states is really the best bet for me.

Moving out west.

Not Cali, though... for how much I love it there, I just don't think it's the right fit for me. Don't get me wrong, if the opportunity presented itself there's a definite chance I'd take it, but I don't really see myself there. Not long term.

Long term.

That's a concept I don't really know much about.

It seems like my life exists in six month increments.

Planning for this trip.

Going here.

Going there.

Moving here.

Moving there.

Maybe Belize.

Maybe Portland.

Maybe Detroit.

Wait...

Detroit?

Who knows any more... I sure as heck don't.

For now, though... it's 16 Days until Vegas with The Crew. After that, it's 6 months until.... well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?