Mr Superior

Today I have effectively mocked Pat Robertson, Irish, Swedes and drunks. Some of my favorite people!

Still Looking For Those Marbles

Pat Robertson is ready to call down fire on your town should you vote incorrectly. Beware!

Yoga

Indian vs. Irish. Can you see the subtle difference?

A man walks into a bar

... with a slab of asphalt under his arm and says, "A beer please, and one for the road."

Sweden's Other White Meat

More True

Today at work I had to tell an older gentleman that he was “probably not a good fit”. He’s perhaps 65, has done very high-level computer work in the past, including network admin. The things I am asking him to do are below his (former) level of functioning, but it seems painfully obvious that he’s just not able to catch on after a couple weeks on the job.

It feels like I’m firing my father. Like my dad, he’s forgetful and scattered -- not quite present when you talk to him. Giving signals that he’s not quite telling himself the truth.

This made me wonder if I’m not simply moving in that direction unaware as time marches on. Am I really all that different? I imagine that it’s just some generational thing (“They were all like that back when.”) … What will my kids say about me?

I was lamenting all this with a peer afterward, and began (as I do) to make broad statements about why things are as they are ... you may recall that I am a good former-fundamentalist. I said that I thought emotional health boils down to telling ourselves the truth, and dealing with that truth reasonably. My apologies for recycling post material.

Why don’t we? What are we afraid of?

(enter bearded therapist with notepad)

I often fear loss of control. I want to do things my way, because I do not trust. I fear what I don’t know. Death. Loss. Loneliness. Rejection. Insignificance. Hemorrhoids. Damn, my list could get long quick.

I see why the only way out is to forget about my miniature problems as frequently as possible, and give myself away to help somebody else. There is no fear of death when you have already died.

instant

I am now displaying mid-life crisis symptoms. I have discovered IM. That’s the thing teenagers do since they cannot speak without mumbling. I need to learn all the relevant terms. Apparently the IM world speaks in acronym. Find your favorites here.

RTFM
TAFN

True

"Truth is our friend."

I have chosen to reveal to my spouse a secret that was painful for her to hear. I am tired of this seemingly small issue having some sort of control over my life. Anything we keep hidden controls us. I believe this now.

So that sucked. Not exactly well received. She thought everything was just fine in our world, but she was mistaken. My revelation frees me, but it burdens her.

I am fortunate enough to have friends that can bear this truth, and not be burdened overmuch with feelings of betrayal. They hear, and it is what it is. Our friendship is unshaken.

My wife, bless her, does not have the luxury of separation. She has bound herself to me, and so, to my mistakes. This is hard.

I see that life itself is a choice of honesty or no. We have many subtle ways of keeping hidden. I don’t want to be hurt. I protect myself. You don’t really see me, since what I am for you is often only a shell that keeps me safe. The real me is carefully guarded.

Perhaps this sounds trite. I don’t really care about that. Are you really yourself with those you care about? Freedom is found in being able to be genuine in all circumstances. This includes your problems and pains. That means that people will have information about you that can hurt you. And they will. Are you willing?

Almost a Post

I promise to write soon. Aaarghh! I'm jus a lazy som-ov-beetch.

As you were!

Brendar Located

Nothing to read? Why not read nothing? Our crack team of blogosphere investigators has located the new website of our beloved negative and sarcastic friend Brendar:

http://illustriousbrendar.blogspot.com/

Further harassment is in order.

Lost

I discovered this summer that flip-flops are one of humanity’s greatest inventions. Slip them on and stuffy, formal worries about retirement plans, paying for college, and money-market accounts fade to vapor.

What the hell have I got to worry about? My bride and I are “thinking” about further procreation. I am not the great Catholic “let’s have 25 kids and piss of the population-control types” … but I really think there is no bad in having kids. We are fortunate to be fertile, have reasonable means, and are both (relatively) emotionally stable. The “war on terror” has not yet arrived in the metro area. The idea is this: struggle and “difficulty” are what helps us to really live. Along with cute sayings and their adorable looks when they are little, kids bring that in spades.

A friend of mine describes someone he knows well as being lonely and lost. He apparently inherited more than he needs to avoid work. Sounds great, eh? He dabbles in this and that, and spends lots of time shopping for big-screen TVs, Harleys, and houses. I am confident that he is a good man, better than me, but his situation seems to leave him somewhat adrift. “He has no real responsibilities,” my friend observes. Nothing to keep him in the game. He can’t seem to find a girlfriend worthy of his time. The American Dream of independent wealth seems to have left him a slave to his own whims. Isolated and aimless.

The opposite side -- so we think -- is slavery to mundane responsibilities. I need to get to work, put up with my boss, deal with idiots, suffer abuse, come home to an exhausted spouse, fighting and complaints, pay bills late, miss out on this and that due to a lack of funds and/or pressing responsibilities, and basically not get the things I think I want.

There are a few hundred country songs out there that convey a truly sappy message about how the writer finds joy in his or her relationships in the midst of problems and difficulties (broken fridge, not enough money, etc.). I am sometimes irked by the over-simplification you find in many country songs, but this particular sentiment is dead-on. The counter-intuitive reality is that the things we are constantly looking for – that we believe will fulfill us, are sometimes the very trap that isolates us. It is struggle, process, “not-yet arriving” that draws us to each other, and to meaningful relationships.

The funny thing is, we are already and always unavoidably in the middle of this, whether we like it or not. I wonder if we wouldn’t be better off to just relax and appreciate things a bit more. A beer with friends, yakking about our troubles is not wasted time. It is life itself.

Apologies to anyone who occasionally checks this spot for verbiage. I have been present, but occupied. Many childrens, many chores, house a wreck (making more house), work has been the same.

I have managed to keep up with my second favorite sport (after sex): cycling. But the blog thing has suffered. I have not yet officially graduated to the elite group on the Wednesday night ride, but a few weeks ago I put the hurt on all of them. Way to go old man. Heh.

I’m greatly anticipating the annual pilgrimage to the mountains and the Sacred Pond. Smoke and flame. Floats and beer. Food and talk. 3 miles of pain. A 97% lager & protein diet for 4 days. There is nothing better, I think. Heaven will be exactly like this. I am dying to find out WTF has been going on with my fellow sarcastic Martians. Some of these I only see monthly for 3 hours or so, and that doesn’t do the trick. 4 weeks and counting.