Thursday, January 20, 2011

Ticking Away

Turning 50 in a few days. I’m not really sure how I feel about that. There are the obvious self-asked questions: How much longer might I live? What have I done with my life? Why haven’t I done this or that? I suppose everyone asks these questions throughout their lives. More so, I guess, the older we get. I’m gonna try to not rehash all the regrets I have about the things I’ve done again, I’ve done that here before. I just find it interesting how unlike a 50 year old I, and many others of my generation feel and act.

I’m always talking to people about how much younger we are at this age than our parents were. My Dad moved out of the house when he was 40. I can’t think of anyone around that didn’t think of him as an old man at the time. I’m quite sure his generation felt the same about his parents and my kids feel the same about me. Still, I can’t imagine my parents listening to the music I listen to or liking the things I do. I often wonder what the thoughts of my parents was and is as it compares to mine, not just at this age, but throughout their lives.

I’m not naïve enough to pretend that my likes, dislikes, fears and all the other stuff in my head is so different to anyone else’s but I do wonder how others deal with it better or worse than I do. I know there are very few that allow others so deep into their lives as I have chosen to do. I know I’m quite different than most in that aspect of life. The idea that I’m different than most when it comes to that sometimes gives me pause. I know people must get tired of it and for that I feel bad. I guess it comes down to the idea of me being who I am, take it or leave it, I’ve found, especially over the last couple of years, that this ridiculously large amount of people I’m fortunate to call friends not only allow it but have somehow seemed to embrace this aspect of my life. For that, I am eternally grateful.

I was chatting with a friend last night and I mentioned that there’s a comfort in being a freak and knowing it. It makes things easier for me to know I don’t have to put on a face that, for me at least, is such hard work while out and about. I realize that there are many out there that think I’m full of it and must think I’m faking it when I say the things I do when I’m writing. I simply can’t afford to think about. In the words of the world famous sailor, Popeye, “I am what I am”. I’ve often said that I’m not comfortable in my own skin and I’ve found a way to find a spot in my head to get as comfy as possible with what I have. Am I happy with who I am? No, not even close. Be that as it may be, I still wake up each day and fog the mirror and I’m told that means it’s a good day.

There’s a lyric from a Pink Floyd song that goes, “Another day older and one day closer to death”. I don’t look forward to death so don’t think I’m on the verge of hurting myself or anything like that. I “get” that lyric though. That’s pretty much how I’ve looked at things for as long as I can remember. Thinking that way has obviously shaped the way I am when it comes to being so open about my thoughts and feelings. Man that sounds so morose. It’s not meant to be, but that brings it back to the comfort in knowing myself thing I mentioned earlier. I do like that about myself. I’ve had these thoughts for so long that there’s comfort in knowing where they are and how to get there when I need to. It’s a lot like coming home after work and slipping into my chair. For those that know me well, you know what I mean.

So Happy Birthday to me in a few days. I think I’m ok with it. If not, I’ll just do some searching inside to find the most comfortable way to deal with it and park myself there for a while. Maybe light up a stogie, have a glass of wine and talk to myself for a while. Yeah, there’s comfort there.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

It Really Is A Small World

I have this program on my computer that tells me where people are when they get onto my blog. It’s a pretty nice tool and I always like to see the interesting places that people are from that read my stuff. I’ve seen readers from all over the United States, Canada and all over Europe. There are consistent visitors from Moscow, Taiwan and Brazil. One of my favorite things about the blog is the idea that people all over the world have the ability to read it.

The other day I saw that someone had left a comment on a piece called, “Logic, Don’t Look Here”. I opened up the locator program and saw that someone from Tehran, Iran had been on the blog at around the time the comment was left. I thought that was pretty cool. As I was looking at the program, the reader from Tehran came on again. I always like when someone from the same area comes back. I always hope it’s the same person and that they liked what they read and wanted to see more.

A couple minutes after noticing the visitor coming back, I got a message on Facebook. Clicking on it, I saw it was from someone with an Arabic name and nobody I knew. The message asked if I was the writer of the blog and I responded that yes, I was. Within minutes I had a friend request on Facebook from this same person. It kind of took me aback for a second and I decided to take a couple days to think about it.

I’ve thought a lot about the request and, I must admit, I don’t think there has been a minute that I considered accepting the request. There are a couple of reasons for not accepting. The first, and I’m not proud of it, is the idea that someone from a part of the world that is considered an enemy of the United States wants into my circle of friends. That sounds horrible, I know. We all have our prejudices and this has shown me one of mine. Like I said, I’m not proud of it but, it is what it is.

The second, and more important reason, is much more basic. I simply don’t know the person. I am incredibly flattered that there are people out there that have no idea who I am that read and enjoy my writing. The idea that I may have tapped into someone’s feelings with something I’ve written makes me feel wonderful. It also gives me a sort of self-validation on my own feelings. That being said, there is a line that appears that I’m simply not willing to cross.

Though I am very open about myself in the blog, there is still a feeling of anonymity once it’s published. My friends that read it understand me and who and what I am in real life compared to the writer. These friends are people that I’ve chosen to have in my life. Those readers that don’t know me have their own opinions about who I am without knowing me personally. I have always said there is a difference between the person that writes and the person many of you know. The person that you really know wants you to know him. That’s what friends are. My Facebook friends are either people that I personally know or those that, over the years, I’ve developed a real relationship with. Anonymous readers of the blog are not. It’s nothing personal, and I’m flattered by the attention I’ve received from these unknown readers. Still, like I mentioned earlier, there’s a line that I feel shouldn’t be crossed. I like that the line is there, it gives me a sense of safety in my head. Those that know me understand that completely and that’s what makes them my friends.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

The New Kid In Town

I have smoked a decent amount of “Pot” in my life. That’s Marijuana, for those not hip on my vocabulary. I smoked it more as a teen and gradually slowed down the older I got. I always enjoyed the buzz and it was never anything that people could say was making me act all crazy and out of control. That last part is and always has been very important to me. While living in San Diego I would smoke a joint on the way to work and nobody could ever tell. If I mentioned it to someone, they’d be surprised because they could never tell. Why do it then? Well, I just enjoyed it. It gave me a decent buzz and I could go along my normal actions and it was never a big deal.

When I got married I slowed down quite a bit simply because I didn’t want to spend the money on it as I now had a family to help support. I would still smoke a bit when I was out with friends but never at home. Honestly, I think I bought some once the entire time I was married. After moving to Florida I bought some once. It was a rather large amount and being that I smoked so little at a time, I kept it in my cigar humidor and it lasted for what seemed like a year. What I’m trying to say here is that I don’t smoke very often anymore. I just don’t want to spend the money on it. I’ll still take a hit off a joint once in a while but there’s also plenty of times that, while in the company of some that are smoking, I’ll just pass. I still like the buzz but it just takes a little to hit me and, of course, I’m able to stay in control of myself throughout.

Well, there’s this new “herb” being passed around these days and it’s completely legal. It’s called Salvia and it’s gaining in popularity. I don’t know very much about it but a couple friends have tried it. Their descriptions of the high are quite entertaining. It makes me actually curious about it. I’ve never dropped Acid or done any other types of hallucinogens and one of the reasons I’ve enjoyed smoking pot is because I can stay in control while smoking it. That doesn’t seem to be possible here.

There are instructions that come with the product and one of the “suggestions” is to not smoke it alone. You should have someone with you to watch over you as you go on this “journey”. That right there is what stops me from ever trying it. I am such a freak about staying in control and never letting anyone see me out of said control that the very thought scares me to death. That fear is one of the main reasons I never get drunk. The very idea of losing control sends a chill throughout my body. There are maybe two people in my life that I would trust enough to allow them to see me that way but once I’d come down from this trip I don’t think I could look them in the eye again. It’s like they would know something too personal about me and I’m way too guarded for that.

I think this is one of those instances where my being such a freak is a good thing. This stuff can’t do you any good and maybe my being so afraid for someone to see me like that is one of those signs from above telling me I’m doing the right thing by not touching the stuff. I’m still curious though.