A Disconnect of Living

“It is not death or dying that is tragic, but rather to have existed without fully participating in life — that is the deepest personal tragedy.”
-Edward Abbey, author

It’s astonishing how many American’s I speak to are apathetic to the current political situation we are facing in November. The utter disconnect between what they complain about and the decisions made on Capitol Hill. They don’t see how those decisions are affecting their every day lives. Or maybe they are just that stupid. Let’s face it, that does exist as a possibility. I find that hard to believe for a majority though. This coming fall is a catalyst for the direction our nation is heading. Maybe even for once our melting pot diversity will no longer divide, but rather join us together into a revolution, and hopefully not a revolt. My thoughts on who should be elected are mute at this point. If you know me, you know where I stand. Regardless, the importance of this pending election is so grand I shudder when I think of the unfortunate outcome of another selfish, small penis president with their own agenda living on Pennsylvania Avenue. In fact, I don’t know what i’d do…really. It’s not that this system can’t be fixed, we are too entrenched in some ideology of how it should be that we don’t have the foresight to think about our Great Great Great grandchildren. The fact that both sides of the isle squabble over, what I think is really stupid shit, and never actually tackle anything of much importance. It really boils down to a king-of-the-playground mentality. Yet, the collective We continue to put these yahoo’s there. The revolution is now. When I think of the revolution, I’m not thinking about gun yielding, flag waving chaos into what’s wrong or right. The revolution can be something as simple as not only registering but actually using your voice and voting. Pull the lever for whomever you want, just pull it! In fact as much as that is a right we’ve got thanks to our Founding Fathers, it should be one’s duty.

“Shock and awful thing to make somebody think
That they have to choose pushing for peace supporting the troops
And either you’re weak or you’ll use brut force-feed the truth
The truth is we say not as we do”
- Jack Johnson, Sleep Through the Static (song)

Restored Faith in Human Kindness

This is the key and envelope.

In today’s day and age with road rage on the rise, hazing being more physical and sexual in nature, and general societal self indulgence that an optimist such as myself finds is becoming more difficult to keep the faith in the kindness of human nature. The apathy for all ideology, and the there might not be an I in team but there sure as hell is a M & E kind of mentality all went by the wayside by a random act of kindness that my wife and I experienced last night.
We were sitting on our new front porch, enjoying a glass of a decent Cab in a great conversation when I inquired if either one of us had checked the mail yet. Neither had. After retrieving the mail and digging through the waste of junk mail, there were two things that stood out. Our first power bill from PECO, and an #10 envelope addressed to the ‘New Tenants” from what looked like the previous tenant. We only knew this because there is some junk mail we receive with their names on it. At this point my wife and I are speculating on what the contents may be. Was it a scathing letter about the landlord? or what? It did feel like there was a key in it, then we figured it was just a key to one of the doors that they forgot to leave with the landlord. Once we opened it, all that was in there was a key and scribbling in pencil that said “Enjoy the Bike!” We looked at each other because there is a nice 18 speed mountain bike locked up along side of the house that we just assumed was our upstairs neighbors bike. Nope. Guess again. It our’s! I guess I will be working off some of the stored beer calories to make way for some of the Oatmeal Coffee Stout that’s going to be brewed the next time around. I’m stoked to be biking my way around town. I’ll make sure to wear a helmet though, college students drive like they are invincible, oh wait, so did I. Bike or Die!!(ding! ding!)

The Other Side

It’s been two years, a few beers and a few tears later, but we are finally into our own home again. The place itself is a duplex, row home kinda thing. We now dwell in approximately 375 sq. feet of happiness. Space utilization has now become a bit of a game to us. The dust is settling and we’ll have our first house guest in two weeks so the scramble is on for finding a home for everything. I must say that after 12 moves in 14 years, it’s become more of a science than a nightmare. This last move to West Chester, was pretty much as breezy as it can get. No real hassles and the biggest thing is the purging, which happens every-time we move. There’s something magical about it. I guess all the moving keeps the clutter down. What really amazes me is how quickly I can compile crap and clutter. I guess that too is a magical power I posses. Luckily, I’ve got a wife who helps me keep that in check with her loving and understanding ways.
To describe this new home, well it’s a tiny two bedroom and a very old home, built sometime at the turn of the century. Oh yeah it shows too. For example the kitchen is a galley style kitchen, but instead of being a rectangle, its more square. I can stand in the center and when I outstretch my wingspan I can fingertip touch the walls. It literally is big enough for a sink, half size fridge, and half size stove with enough counter top for the coffee pot and drying dishes. It’s a pint size person kitchen. The master bedroom is 10′ x 9′ so by the time a queen bed occupies it’s real estate, that gives the rest of us enough room to walk around it. Oohh, space saving tip: store more crap under the bed, hah! Mom will never know, it’ll still look pretty. The office suprisingly is the smallest room, besides the kitchen, and we were able to fit two desks in there and our big bookcase, and it looks good. Even have room for the Linkel, our inflatable bed, anyone down for a visit, we’ve got a quaint little town and some nice digs, so come visit.
Pictures to be posted once the ’stuff’ has found it’s new home. Check back later.

My Mind – Off the Grid

The smell of the salt in the water or the crisp clean mountain air, the feel of the water’s edge smooshin’ between your toes, a barrage of natural sounds violating your every thought and a visual of a barren wasteland. The future may look bleak, and at a tipping point of no return. Or at-least to the way of the so called good ol’ days. It may not be reversed but the outcome can be changed. Yes, we should be doing more individually, and I too can do more to reduce and reuse. There are also some options that should be done to expedite the process. Since, the collective we are one of the worst and also looked upon as the global leaders then ‘we’ need to do something otherwise others won’t do anything about the global shift in going green. As a leading nation it is our obligation of good for the world.

I was going to get a bit preachy here, but then again, I’m sure I don’t have any Red readers, so my fuzzy liberal thinking will just be spent on a few Amens. In some aspects, I bet living an Amish life would be the picture perfect extreme of green living. I love my technology, and especially my cameras, therefore I would like to find some balance between living an Amish lifestyle and living in the digital age. Hell, maybe I’m even wrong about them. What if they were huge polluters, that’d be funny.

Along, this vain I have a fantasy, it might not be realistic for me, but I do often think of it. So again, it’d be to find some balance. Damn I love Reggae music (sorry, that’s the ADD, i’m jammin’ out to Lucanio right now, and he’s groovy). Anyway, where was I…that’s right. I wanna live off the fat of the land George! Grow my own personal food, my own hops for beer, live off the grid, sustainability through solar, cistern/well, septic, make my own biofuel for my non-owned diesel car. I know it’s hard, time consuming, work and because of that I’d have to quit my 9-5, run from Sallie Mae, so I’d have to live cheap. I envision living in a yurt, because who can have a huge mortgage to pay and then live as self-sustained as possible. I’d make my own wine/beer, quite possibly even ferment and distill some moonshine. Wait, I’ve got to many teeth for that. Nevermind.

Of course I understand that what I’m suggesting is a full time job, so I need some land to cultivate, and money for solar power panels, etc. is expensive. Plus, there’s not much land left that I can get squatters rights to, so I find myself in a bit of a pickle. So here I sit, sucking energy, just writing this. Now that’s ironic and funny.

Day 93

The last smoke I extinguished was 93 days ago. This great since of accomplishment has been a battle of my mind. I really think it depicts the integrity of how much I can accomplish. If one has never been a smoker, then this is a bit more difficult for them to understand. Of course they don’t see the fascination with the cigarette. For example the Thanksgiving day, post turkey, tryptophan induced, belt loosening smoke. I think that’s my all-time favorite. There is just something about that situation that will forever wax in nostalgia for me. Damn, just thinking about it, it puts a smile on my face. To be quite frank and honest, there is a love / hate relationship with cigarettes. Of course I know all the ‘bad’ things about smoking and the general stupidity involved with knowing that information and yet still choosing to light’em up. I wish I could claim ignorance is bliss on this one, but I can’t.

I’ve spent the last half of my life smoking, and I’ve often thought about why I started. I’m sure there are people out there who want to know as well. Recently, I’ve put a lot of thought into this and I believe that it was one of the first adult decisions I made, albeit a stupid one, but it was my own. Even though it was thought to be difficult to obtain a pack, surprisingly, it was easier than you’d expect. I really think this was why, it was a chance for me and my friends to hang out, act like we thought adults did, and discuss what we thought at the time were adult topics. We were deep in the in-between years. Troubling times taboot.

There are days that pass where I don’t think about a cigarette all day and then there are other days where I’m fixated on the idea, and all that’ll help is another passing day and the extra X on the calendar. I didn’t go cold turkey, I’ve tried that before and failed with the first beer or night out. This time around I used the happy pills of Wellbutrin®. After being prescribed, I continued to smoke my normal pack a day for a week, I guess so the drug and the habit could be associated together, then one week out was the ‘New Beginning’ date. If 93 days ago, I knew I would make it this long, I don’t know if I would have believed anyone. The good thing is that my wife also made this commitment to quit as well, and that’s been a huge help for us both. This is something we’ve done together, which has been very difficult for us. Sure, there’s been a few nicotine induce bickering sessions between us, but those too have wained into the distant past. Now, we know that if one cheats then the other person gets a freebie smoke without any shit from the original offender. I know I don’t want to be responsible for her to start smoking again, so this little head game we’re playing is helping too.

Now, if only the healthcare industry can find a solution for emphysema, lung cancer, heart disease, longevity of vascular health and any other associated smoking diseases sometime soon, I’d be happy to give my hard earned cash to the tobacco companies, but until that day. I quit.

Something Found

Have been busy breaking down ‘the space’ for the pending move next weekend. Which has consumed so much of my time, that I’ve neglected my writing. In the process of boxing and cleaning, I came across this buried in a bag of mine, it’s handwritten and not dated.

 

The drowning in my mind,
rattles around,
ricocheting off the neurons,
trying to make sense of it all
with unfulfilled answers,
LOST,
Nowhere to go
TRAPPED,
between the nonsense,
and the lack of direction.
Yet with each breath,
and every exhale,
a little bit escapes,
making the day a little less confusing,
after all life is a struggle.