It’s often wondered, by friends and family, why I don’t seem to have any interest in dating. I didn’t date before I got married and, since the divorce, have had little inclination to go out there and see what I can find. Well, recently, I kinda get this feeling that it may be time to try to break out of this little mold I’ve built for myself. What, you may ask, would make me feel this way? Well, see, there’s this girl.
It’s the strangest thing, I mean we’ve only seen each other three times in the year we’ve been in touch with each other but it seems we’ve gotten pretty close over that time just by chatting on line. I find myself looking forward to seeing her name on any note coming into my in box and am a bit disappointed when I see the note is from someone else. I feel like I’m 12, I swear. I think about her all the time and am always hoping to be able to see her as soon as possible. There though, lies the rub.
She lives a bit away from me so that always puts a little crimp in any plans we may try to make. On the other hand, I think we both feel a little safe knowing that there is that distance between us. See, neither one of us can be considered “professionals” at this relationship thing. Me, because of my total lack of experience at it and she, because of some bad relationships in the past that may have made her feel that the juice just isn’t worth the squeeze, if you know what I mean.
The really wild thing about this to me is that I think she may actually like me too. Kinda makes one wonder about her sensibilities, but I’ll take it until she figures it out.
We talk, well, not really, we write about anything to each other. I know I keep nothing from her and, though sometimes, it’s like pulling teeth, I think I’m getting to know her much better than either of us imagined when we first started talking to each other. I’m very proud to say that I became someone she confided in when she felt she needed to talk to someone and I think she knows that she’s the one I look for when I’ve got something on my mind.
It’s so unusual for me to feel this way, let alone want the whole world to know it. Of course I have no idea if anything real is gonna come of this. I’d love to think it would but truly, you never know. I look forward to trying and I hope she feels the same. We did have dinner a few weeks ago and all I kept thinking was how much I wanted to hold her hand. Like I said, I feel like I’m 12 years old and when you’re my age you’re not supposed to feel that way. But see, there’s this girl…
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Who'd A Thunk?
As with all good things in my life, I somehow find a way either through mine, or someone else’s doing, to get things all screwed up. Things have suddenly taken an unfriendly turn at work and it’s unlikely that I’ll be there much longer. There are numerous reasons but the bottom line is I’m not happy and neither is my new boss. I’ve started throwing out resumes and, hopefully, something will come up relatively quickly. I’m still working but I’m expecting things to reach the point of either staying or leaving any day now and you know what? I’m ok with it.
I’m not going to go into the whole story but suffice it to say that both myself, and my direct superior share the blame. I’m not going to say that I have been perfect and it’s his entire fault because that’s simply not true. What I will say is I will lose no sleep if I never see this man again. To say that we don’t see eye to eye is a major understatement.
That being said, as those who know me probably realize, that old urge to run like the wind is blasting into my head. It doesn’t even matter where I’d end up, just packing the car and going would do the trick. These are not new feelings, I’ve written before about the numerous moves around the country I’ve involved myself in. Something’s different this time though. Normally I’m set to go without a thought of what are both in front of me and what I’m leaving behind. This time, it’s different.
It’s different for a number of reasons but none more important than what I’ve found and written about in the past, it’s friends. It’s the people that have become, literally, my reason for being here in the first place. I can’t imagine my life without this new/old group of friends being a part of my daily interactions. Two years ago I could have packed up the car and headed to Montana, Florida or any other place in the country. Not now. I was talking to my sister about this whole thing the other day and she knew how badly I wanted to leave. She also knew that it wasn’t even a possibility though. She told me what I’ve written about number of times, I’m home.
For whatever reason, and it’s not one I would have ever believed, I have found a group of people that I can’t live without. For even stranger reasons, that I’ll never quite understand, they seem to like me an awful lot. I can’t describe to you the feelings that run through me just thinking about this. Never having been one to even like myself just a little, it’s quite overwhelming to think that there’s this group of folks that think rather highly of me. So no, I can’t even imagine leaving this comfort zone full of warmth that I’m still so unsure of how to deal with but hope will never go away.
So, I’m looking for another job and I’m limiting my search area. I have to. I don’t see myself ever leaving this area. I’ve always done quite well on my own. It’s easy for me to just work and go home and that’s what happens when I’m in a place that’s new. I don’t do well making new friends so the area remains new for as long as I’m there. Yes, I do quite well in that scenario. I, however, seem to flourish, socially, in this area of friends that I’ve placed myself in and I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels.
The song I have set up for this post right now is Mona Lisa’s And Mad Hatters by Elton John. I’m not a believer in anything more than I can see but there’s a line in the song that, if you are one of these friends I’m talking about, pertains directly to you. “I thank the lord there’s people out there like you”. and I do.
I’m not going to go into the whole story but suffice it to say that both myself, and my direct superior share the blame. I’m not going to say that I have been perfect and it’s his entire fault because that’s simply not true. What I will say is I will lose no sleep if I never see this man again. To say that we don’t see eye to eye is a major understatement.
That being said, as those who know me probably realize, that old urge to run like the wind is blasting into my head. It doesn’t even matter where I’d end up, just packing the car and going would do the trick. These are not new feelings, I’ve written before about the numerous moves around the country I’ve involved myself in. Something’s different this time though. Normally I’m set to go without a thought of what are both in front of me and what I’m leaving behind. This time, it’s different.
It’s different for a number of reasons but none more important than what I’ve found and written about in the past, it’s friends. It’s the people that have become, literally, my reason for being here in the first place. I can’t imagine my life without this new/old group of friends being a part of my daily interactions. Two years ago I could have packed up the car and headed to Montana, Florida or any other place in the country. Not now. I was talking to my sister about this whole thing the other day and she knew how badly I wanted to leave. She also knew that it wasn’t even a possibility though. She told me what I’ve written about number of times, I’m home.
For whatever reason, and it’s not one I would have ever believed, I have found a group of people that I can’t live without. For even stranger reasons, that I’ll never quite understand, they seem to like me an awful lot. I can’t describe to you the feelings that run through me just thinking about this. Never having been one to even like myself just a little, it’s quite overwhelming to think that there’s this group of folks that think rather highly of me. So no, I can’t even imagine leaving this comfort zone full of warmth that I’m still so unsure of how to deal with but hope will never go away.
So, I’m looking for another job and I’m limiting my search area. I have to. I don’t see myself ever leaving this area. I’ve always done quite well on my own. It’s easy for me to just work and go home and that’s what happens when I’m in a place that’s new. I don’t do well making new friends so the area remains new for as long as I’m there. Yes, I do quite well in that scenario. I, however, seem to flourish, socially, in this area of friends that I’ve placed myself in and I can’t tell you how wonderful it feels.
The song I have set up for this post right now is Mona Lisa’s And Mad Hatters by Elton John. I’m not a believer in anything more than I can see but there’s a line in the song that, if you are one of these friends I’m talking about, pertains directly to you. “I thank the lord there’s people out there like you”. and I do.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
I've Got Daddy Issues
Been working on the Dad thing for a few days now. By that I mean trying to reconcile who he is with who I wanted him to be. This may get pretty tough at times and, if he happens to read it, he’ll more than likely get very upset and I’m truly sorry if that’s the case. I hope if he does read it, he understands what I’m trying to accomplish by doing this whole writing thing. I’m not real sure how to start this so I’ll just lay out some of the things about him that have always made me wonder.
The first, and I think most telling, thing about the man is the fact that I was married for more than 15 years. During those 15 years I spoke to my Father about once a week. I would constantly talk to him about my family, my wife and the three kids. I can’t tell you how shocked I’d be if, today or at anytime since I was first married, he could tell anyone the names of my now ex wife and kids. I don’t think it was anything malicious on his part. I just don’t think he considered it important. I honestly don’t believe that he, himself, thought there was anything wrong with it. A rather humorous side note to this is knowing that he could tell you the name of my dog without blinking an eye. Isn’t that weird?
When I was very young I lived in Trenton. Mom worked in downtown Detroit and Dad had his shop in Wyandotte. Dad’s friends at the time were, and I’m not exaggerating, all drug addicts. This was the mid to late 60’s and I think they were just called hippies but, in reality, they really were just druggies. I don’t have a problem with one having friends like this. Looking back I find it almost criminal that he would have these guys over the house on a regular basis. I can remember times when one of these friends would come by the house to take either one of us kids to Dr’s appointments when Dad and Mom were both working. They were as welcome in our home as any family member. I know Mom wasn’t real happy about it but, honestly, what could she do? She was far too busy trying to keep the power from being shut off on a regular basis.
I look back on those early years and realize that Dad never went to any school or sporting event that any of us kids were involved in. He always said that he had to work. Understanding what the business was that he had I know that he didn’t have to be there. I now realize, and I know this sounds harsh, that there was just nothing in it for him. See, when Dad would be at his shop, the people that hung around there were those that were far inferior, intellectually, to him. He literally was the “King of the Palace”. It was his world and everybody there understood that. When it came to us kids he had to work, emotionally, to be involved. It’s that single thing, working emotionally, that becomes the key to everything about the man. He either wouldn’t or, sadder still, couldn’t work that hard.
Whenever anything happened in any of our lives Dad would only be there until it became uncomfortable. Karen’s wedding, he had to leave in the middle of the ceremony. My Bar Mitzvah, he stayed until a special delivery was received from his boss that was a check for me. He was so proud to literally put a stop to all conversation in the room and have me open this gift. He left minutes after I opened it. When his Father died, he only came in for the funeral and left before the first night of Shiva was complete, the same for his Mother. His way of justifying things to himself was to throw money at it. He paid for a lot of the food and things so he felt his job was done. At his Mother’s Shiva, I had to drive him to the airport in a major storm so he could get out of the emotional predicament he found himself in. These stories aren’t being told to be mean, I’m really trying to understand the man and it’s starting to all make more sense now.
Dad’s sick now and none of us are really sure what exactly is wrong. He got mad at my brother for talking to a Dr. about his illness and he only gives us snippets. He told me that he was going to have an angioplasty and would need a month to recover. A friend of mine that’s a nurse is surprised by the recovery because it’s usually outpatient surgery. I think there’s more going on than he lets on but I don’t think he really understands it. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it so he just shuts it down when it’s being explained to him. Again, it just makes him use emotions and, I really hate saying this, but I’m not sure that he has them. I find it difficult to come to this conclusion but I’m so afraid he’s just empty inside from not using those emotions for almost his entire 78 years.
Dad’s facing the idea of his mortality and I know that’s not a comfortable thing for anyone. For him, well, I can’t imagine being in that room, late at night, all alone with the lights off. Those unused emotions, just bursting to get out, to help him get through this and he’s so unpracticed at it that he just plain doesn’t know how to use them. Granted, I am way more emotional than most but he’s so far on the other end of the scale it scares me to think of him in that position.
I know it may not seem to be the case but I do love him and when the day comes when he’s no longer with us I will miss him dearly. I’ll miss the conversations we’ve shared. He’s a really bright guy and we’ve had some great ones. I’m just so sorry that, well, see, that’s the problem. I’m not really sure what I’m sorry about.
The first, and I think most telling, thing about the man is the fact that I was married for more than 15 years. During those 15 years I spoke to my Father about once a week. I would constantly talk to him about my family, my wife and the three kids. I can’t tell you how shocked I’d be if, today or at anytime since I was first married, he could tell anyone the names of my now ex wife and kids. I don’t think it was anything malicious on his part. I just don’t think he considered it important. I honestly don’t believe that he, himself, thought there was anything wrong with it. A rather humorous side note to this is knowing that he could tell you the name of my dog without blinking an eye. Isn’t that weird?
When I was very young I lived in Trenton. Mom worked in downtown Detroit and Dad had his shop in Wyandotte. Dad’s friends at the time were, and I’m not exaggerating, all drug addicts. This was the mid to late 60’s and I think they were just called hippies but, in reality, they really were just druggies. I don’t have a problem with one having friends like this. Looking back I find it almost criminal that he would have these guys over the house on a regular basis. I can remember times when one of these friends would come by the house to take either one of us kids to Dr’s appointments when Dad and Mom were both working. They were as welcome in our home as any family member. I know Mom wasn’t real happy about it but, honestly, what could she do? She was far too busy trying to keep the power from being shut off on a regular basis.
I look back on those early years and realize that Dad never went to any school or sporting event that any of us kids were involved in. He always said that he had to work. Understanding what the business was that he had I know that he didn’t have to be there. I now realize, and I know this sounds harsh, that there was just nothing in it for him. See, when Dad would be at his shop, the people that hung around there were those that were far inferior, intellectually, to him. He literally was the “King of the Palace”. It was his world and everybody there understood that. When it came to us kids he had to work, emotionally, to be involved. It’s that single thing, working emotionally, that becomes the key to everything about the man. He either wouldn’t or, sadder still, couldn’t work that hard.
Whenever anything happened in any of our lives Dad would only be there until it became uncomfortable. Karen’s wedding, he had to leave in the middle of the ceremony. My Bar Mitzvah, he stayed until a special delivery was received from his boss that was a check for me. He was so proud to literally put a stop to all conversation in the room and have me open this gift. He left minutes after I opened it. When his Father died, he only came in for the funeral and left before the first night of Shiva was complete, the same for his Mother. His way of justifying things to himself was to throw money at it. He paid for a lot of the food and things so he felt his job was done. At his Mother’s Shiva, I had to drive him to the airport in a major storm so he could get out of the emotional predicament he found himself in. These stories aren’t being told to be mean, I’m really trying to understand the man and it’s starting to all make more sense now.
Dad’s sick now and none of us are really sure what exactly is wrong. He got mad at my brother for talking to a Dr. about his illness and he only gives us snippets. He told me that he was going to have an angioplasty and would need a month to recover. A friend of mine that’s a nurse is surprised by the recovery because it’s usually outpatient surgery. I think there’s more going on than he lets on but I don’t think he really understands it. It makes him uncomfortable to think about it so he just shuts it down when it’s being explained to him. Again, it just makes him use emotions and, I really hate saying this, but I’m not sure that he has them. I find it difficult to come to this conclusion but I’m so afraid he’s just empty inside from not using those emotions for almost his entire 78 years.
Dad’s facing the idea of his mortality and I know that’s not a comfortable thing for anyone. For him, well, I can’t imagine being in that room, late at night, all alone with the lights off. Those unused emotions, just bursting to get out, to help him get through this and he’s so unpracticed at it that he just plain doesn’t know how to use them. Granted, I am way more emotional than most but he’s so far on the other end of the scale it scares me to think of him in that position.
I know it may not seem to be the case but I do love him and when the day comes when he’s no longer with us I will miss him dearly. I’ll miss the conversations we’ve shared. He’s a really bright guy and we’ve had some great ones. I’m just so sorry that, well, see, that’s the problem. I’m not really sure what I’m sorry about.
Friday, March 5, 2010
The Old Apartment
Sometimes, as I’m sure happens to many, I just plain wake up in a down mood. It’s not unusual, when this happens, that it sets the tone for the entire day. I’m sure there are numerous psychological explanations for how and why this happens but it still kinda sucks. The late comedian, Richard Jeni, had a routine where he talked about how when couples are in the middle of a breakup they invariably only hear love songs on the radio. No matter how hard they try, or which station they punch up, whatever song comes on is something that keeps the breakup in their mind. It’s a very funny routine and it really is odd how true the concept is.
There are also those, like myself, that almost search out things that will keep the mood in their mind. It’s almost like I’m searching for validity for the down feelings that are running through me. It then becomes almost vital to me to keep pushing that envelope of sadness to ensure that it doesn’t go away. There are also triggers that, no matter what my mood is, will set a new mood in motion. Again, I’m sure this is common for most if not all of us. One of those triggers for me, that I’ve just recently realized, is the song, “The Old Apartment” by Barenaked Ladies.
The last time I saw the band was New Years Eve of 2008 and it was an incredibly emotional day for me. It was the day my brother Steve called and told me he had cancer. I wrote about the concert and I know most of you read it at the time. For those of you that haven’t seen it, I’ll try to figure out how to put the link in this post. I do believe it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever written even though the subject matter is not what one would consider a “feel good moment”. Before I go on let me say that Steve is doing great. The transplant was done a year ago next week and, of course, we’re all thankful.
Back to the triggers thing.
Every once in a while I like to go through the things I’ve written. Do a little self-criticism, if you will. When I do this I always find that the posts that I think are really well written are those just filled with sadness. I find myself welling up with tears while reading them, yet still force myself to read the entire string of post relevant to that subject. That’s kind of strange. It’s weird that what I believe are my proudest moments in writing are those that take me to a place that ensures sadness.
Here’s where the Barenaked Ladies thing comes into play. The band has recently announced a tour that will bring them to the area soon and I jumped at the possibility of seeing them again. I’ve seen them a number of times and, as most know, I’m a big fan. Before I went to the website to look at ticket prices and other logistics I grabbed their greatest hits cd and put it on. The first song on the album is “The Old Apartment” and as I was looking at the site, with the song playing, I literally had, what might be called, a breakdown. The entire evening of the last time I saw them, and everything that went along with it came rushing into my head like a freight train. I couldn’t turn the cd off fast enough and quickly left the site and realized there was no way I could possibly see the concert.
I woke up the other morning in one of those down moods I spoke of earlier. Got in the car to go to work, and of course, put the cd in that I spoke of earlier. It had the effect I knew it would and ensured a crappy mood for the day. Why do I do this to myself?
Not sure if the link below will work for the piece i spoke of. If not, copy and paste if you want to.
http://kmittleman.blogspot.com/2009/01/bittersweet-symphony.html
There are also those, like myself, that almost search out things that will keep the mood in their mind. It’s almost like I’m searching for validity for the down feelings that are running through me. It then becomes almost vital to me to keep pushing that envelope of sadness to ensure that it doesn’t go away. There are also triggers that, no matter what my mood is, will set a new mood in motion. Again, I’m sure this is common for most if not all of us. One of those triggers for me, that I’ve just recently realized, is the song, “The Old Apartment” by Barenaked Ladies.
The last time I saw the band was New Years Eve of 2008 and it was an incredibly emotional day for me. It was the day my brother Steve called and told me he had cancer. I wrote about the concert and I know most of you read it at the time. For those of you that haven’t seen it, I’ll try to figure out how to put the link in this post. I do believe it’s one of the best pieces I’ve ever written even though the subject matter is not what one would consider a “feel good moment”. Before I go on let me say that Steve is doing great. The transplant was done a year ago next week and, of course, we’re all thankful.
Back to the triggers thing.
Every once in a while I like to go through the things I’ve written. Do a little self-criticism, if you will. When I do this I always find that the posts that I think are really well written are those just filled with sadness. I find myself welling up with tears while reading them, yet still force myself to read the entire string of post relevant to that subject. That’s kind of strange. It’s weird that what I believe are my proudest moments in writing are those that take me to a place that ensures sadness.
Here’s where the Barenaked Ladies thing comes into play. The band has recently announced a tour that will bring them to the area soon and I jumped at the possibility of seeing them again. I’ve seen them a number of times and, as most know, I’m a big fan. Before I went to the website to look at ticket prices and other logistics I grabbed their greatest hits cd and put it on. The first song on the album is “The Old Apartment” and as I was looking at the site, with the song playing, I literally had, what might be called, a breakdown. The entire evening of the last time I saw them, and everything that went along with it came rushing into my head like a freight train. I couldn’t turn the cd off fast enough and quickly left the site and realized there was no way I could possibly see the concert.
I woke up the other morning in one of those down moods I spoke of earlier. Got in the car to go to work, and of course, put the cd in that I spoke of earlier. It had the effect I knew it would and ensured a crappy mood for the day. Why do I do this to myself?
Not sure if the link below will work for the piece i spoke of. If not, copy and paste if you want to.
http://kmittleman.blogspot.com/2009/01/bittersweet-symphony.html
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