The 'real' bed

I slept in my 'real' bed overnight (as opposed to the futon in the dining room) for the first time in two or three years. Bailey slept with me, and even Rollo came and got on the bed. Now there's plenty of room for both of them.

The bedroom is in better shape than it's ever been: newly-refinished floor, retextured and repainted walls and ceiling, all provided by Ms. HRP.

There's no furniture in the room except the bed and a small table, and I think I want to keep it that way. I have plenty of art to hang on the walls, but I think I prefer them blank. It's pleasant having a room with almost no visual clutter or stimulus. It's almost like being in a hotel.

Now that I think about it, I realize what I liked about hotel rooms was the absence of clutter.

Sunday evening

What is there?

Sunday morning

I love my dog.

Compassion and crazymakers

Mindovermary reports she has ejected her friend from her home after only four days, rather than the agreed-upon two weeks.

A smart move, I think.

Buddhism exhorts us to be compassionate toward others. I mentioned previously that my idealized, unrealistic perfect female companion would be someone possessing the qualities of Guan Yin, the Chinese representation of the Bodhisattva of Compassion.

Compassion is necessary. But we still have to take care of ourselves - especially, I think, those of us who live alone and who have a limited support network.

Some readers will recognize the story of the fellow who eventually moved out of his own house because a friend he let move in 'temporarily' brought friends and family members to live there, too. That's right... the guy moved out of his own house to get away from the people who took advantage of his considerable compassion.

There are people who are constant psychological and emotional drains. The first time I encountered the term 'crazymakers' was in Julia Cameron's book The Artist's Way. There's a blog dedicated to that book's principles and concepts, with a page about crazymakers here.

Crazymakers are those personalities that scream storm centers. They are often charismatic, frequently charming, highly inventive, and powerfully persuasive.
Crazymakers break deals and destroy schedules.
Crazymakers expect special treatment.
Crazymakers discount your reality.
Crazymakers spend your time and money.
Crazymakers triangulate those they deal with.
Crazymakers are expert blamers.
Crazymakers create dramas but seldom where they belong.
Crazymakers hate schedules except their own.
Crazymakers hate order.

(I notice, of course, that I fit some of those descriptions. I'm adept at discounting other people's realities, and while I wouldn't say I hate order, I don't exactly embrace it, either.)

I personally am big on avoiding crazymakers. I can usually just get up and walk away. Maybe if I were big 'E' Enlightened, I could deal with people like this and raise them to some higher level of awareness. But I am a flawed vessel living in a house full of junk and pet hair; it's too much of a struggle to keep my own sanity without trying to 'fix' crazymakers as well.

As Melvin Udall said in As Good As It Gets, "Go sell crazy someplace else – we're all stocked up here."

(And here's the official web site for The Artist's Way. I think this book and its companion books stay in print pretty much continuously; you could probably find it in any major bookstore, if you're interested.)

Early Tuesday

Bailey is doing a doggie sleepover tonight with Lucy at Ms. HRP's. It's just me and Rollo and whatever hangaround cats come wandering in.

I spent some time with Nurse K and Ms. HRP today, after spending about three days with no contact with anyone (other than cashiers and wait staff). I've been pretty much out of contact with world for most of the past five days, and have found it very relaxing and de-stressing.

I read MindoverMary's post about her friend who has temporarily (heh) moved in with her to escape a crazy, abusive boyfriend. No one has ever asked to move in with me (I wonder why - do you suppose it could be the cat shit?), but this is exactly the kind of drama I don't want to be near, let alone be participating in. I hide from this kind of stuff.

I used to think I was a screwup because I couldn't fit in with the rest of society. Lately, I've begun to think I'm the one who's sane, and everyone else is crazy. Yes, I know I'm surrounded by cats and cat shit and nose spray bottles, but no one gets beaten up at my place, no one passes out drunk in my front yard, nor are the police ever called to my home. I've never been put in jail.

I could list a whole bunch of other things that haven't happened to my dull, boring ass, but other people might recognize themselves or their friends, so I'll spare them the embarrassment.

I truly do not understand how people can live that way, although it seems to go on all around me. The very thought of it unnerves me.

Solitude is a blessing.

iTunes: Schubert: Impromptu in G flat - Martijn Van Den Hoek, piano

Sleep

The cat fidgets all night. The dog barely moves at all.

This dog is like a thirty-pound sack of potatoes.

Sunday am

What is there?

I'll be around

Please, don't anyone else call me. I'm fine. I'll be around.

Speaking of negative emotions...

I'm often a generator of negative emotions, so you may want to read that link in the preceding post for tips on how to deal with me.

Negative emotions

A few weeks ago, Ms. HRP gave me a printout of a web page about how to stop being affected by other people's negative emotions. I lost the printout, of course, but I remembered one phrase: "envelope of white light." So I did a Google search for that phrase plus the word 'emotions,' and the web page I was looking for was at the top of the list.

How To Stop Absorbing Other People’s Negative Emotions

Another day of nothin'

I saw almost nobody today. My garage guy came by to pick up some equipment he'd left. I went to the grocery store and bought some stuff to tide me over in case I'm snowed in tomorrow. Later in the day I went to Smokey's and got barbecue.

I walked the dog a couple of times.

I searched - unsuccessfully - for the remote control for the stereo, which I have already misplaced, and which I hope I didn't accidentally throw in the trash.

I took a nap.

Right now, I'm listening to Shostakovich's Symphony #13.

Dog diet

I gave Bailey a steak bone the other night, and while she was glad to get it, her digestive tract seems the worse for the experience. She hasn't had the runs, exactly, but more like a case of the 'squishies' for about 36 hours. She's also had a couple of accidents in the house during this time.

Bailey is making lots of friends. Almost every time I take her for a walk, someone stops to pet her. She loves people and she loves attention, so that's working out well for everyone.

Snow storm

According to the weather forecasters, we're on the south edge of some ginormous winter storm that's going to cover the northwest half of the state in up to a foot of snow. Blizzard warnings are in effect in the panhandle and northwest. That area's pretty remote - I'd hate to be stuck under a foot of snow out there.

I'm trying to decide if I need to go to the store today and stock up on some sort of supplies.

Link spamming

About three times a week, I have to delete three or four 'link spams' from the blog. These are comments, usually unrelated to the post to which they're attached, that include a link to some quasi-reputable web site. Seeding blogs with these links help boost a site's Google ranking. I assume some so-called 'search engine optimization' company pays people some paltry sum to spend hours a day dropping these linked comments all over blogs.

This has been going on pretty regularly for about six weeks now. I don't want to begin moderating comments, but I may have to, at least temporarily.

What I believe

I've had this idea for awhile that I should 'codify' my beliefs... sort of a "Mcarpene Creed", if you will.

But what would I get from that? Maybe I'll just walk the dog, instead.

Calm

I thought I'd take a moment to post about what a pleasant week I've had. And I've spent it mostly alone and mostly at home. I've been to the coffee shop a few times, and to VZD's once, but for the most part, I've avoided my usual haunts. (I don't consider Jimmy's Egg a 'haunt,' although I eat there pretty often. I tend to be in and out pretty quick.)

I've listened to a huge amount of classical music, including, for the first time, Glenn Gould's "Goldberg Variations" performances. The new stereo makes some of my other CDs sound like completely new works. This is especially true of Ravi Shankar's "Chants of India," in which I hear voices that didn't even show up with my old speakers. Right now I'm listening to Tchaikovsky's 'Marche Slave,' performed by Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic.

I've done some housecleaning and gotten mostly caught up on laundry. I've walked the dog two or three times a day.

I've been reading some books by Steven Batchelor, Ajahn Chah and DT Suzuki.

I've located some old friends - people I haven't talked to in ten to twenty years - on Facebook.

I've taken naps in the afternoon.

Everything has been very calm and pleasant. I feel like this validates my decision to scale back my busy schedule of public appearances and spend more time with myself.

Sunday evening

Nothing to report

Stereo

I bought a new stereo setup today - the first new one in, oh, 35 years. My ex still has my old one, in fact.

This is a more modest setup than the one I got back in the seventies. It's just a receiver and a pair of speakers. I put all my music on iTunes, so I don't need a CD player.

The receiver is a Yamaha home theater thing with about two hundred features I'll never use. All I really needed was a power amp or maybe an integrated amp; most of the digital signal processing stuff doesn't interest me. But the plain old amps are hard to find (and I didn't limit my search to big box retailers), and tend to cost as much or more.

I had been listening to music on high-end self-powered computer speakers, and the chamber music and Asian flute music were tolerable. But symphonies and other big-orchestra pieces sounded choked. Everything sounds much better now.

When I retired, I set some budget goals for myself. I haven't come close to meeting them, and my cash reserves have shrunk faster than I planned. Austerity will have to be the watchword from here on out. I already own more crap than I can fit in my house - cutting back shouldn't be a problem.

Big news today

They poured the concrete foundation for my new garage today.


This is a big step forward. They'll do the stem wall tomorrow, I'm told, and build the actual garage in a week to ten days.

Tuesday

Nothing to report. Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Culture Warriors Laid Off

from NYT's Frank Rich...

Here, at last, is one piece of good news in our global economic meltdown: Americans have less and less patience for the intrusive and divisive moral scolds who thrived in the bubbles of the Clinton and Bush years.

Sat night/Sun morn

Ms. Dog and I are both under the fuzzy red blanket. We're calm and at peace.

Two strange phenomena

Two strange phenomena occurred here this evening.

The first phenomenon was that I found myself walking down an aisle in Target with no recollection of having gone there. I assumed I had driven there, but I had no memory of having done it. It was almost as if I had come into existence at that exact moment.

I assumed I would find my car in the parking lot, and sure enough, I did. I didn't buy anything.

The second phenomenon was that after I got home, I found the toilet paper on the roller set into the wall. I never put toilet paper on the roller, but there it was, just as if it had always been there. I know some people make a sort of ritual of putting TP on the roller. I assume it helps preserve the illusion they have some control over their lives: "See? I've put the toilet paper in its place on the roller. I'm in charge. I make the decisions."

But, I know that life is lived on the ever-shifting sands of impermanence, so I don't worry about the toilet paper being on the roller. As long as it's within reach, I'm fine. Plus, I avoid that whole over/under thing.

And the shower curtain was hanging outside the bathtub. I'm glad I found that before I took a shower in the morning.

There seems to have been an odd shifting of the fabric of reality around here.

Complications

I know it does not seem to most people like my life is very complicated. But it is to me.

My ability to multitask, never very strong, has diminished to nothing. So has my ability to plan, or even to think clearly. There are posts that have never appeared here because I started to write them, realized I didn't have the energy or motivation to organize my three or four paragraphs of thoughts, and gave up.

And for the most part, I don't care. I don't need to think much anymore, or organize or plan.

I had to take the dog out for a 1:40 am doggie dump. I sort of know I need to start feeding her on a schedule, but the concept seems kind of fuzzy and indistinct. I have to feed her earlier in the day, and at the same time every day. That means I have to keep track of what time it is. That's a complication, looking at a clock all the time. Plus the usual chore of finding the bowl, finding a scoop for the dog food... more complication. Can't think about it.

I'm sort of regressing into a hunter/gatherer. Or really just a gatherer. I can forage, but that's about it.

I went to the coffee shop yesterday. Walked in, sort of vaguely waved at a table where some of my friends were sitting, then left. I wasn't there two minutes. Too many people, too many conversations. Too complicated.

A couple of my friends are infuriated by the way I drive. The way I drive is this: get in the car, start driving, then formulate a plan about how I'm going to get there. This means that many times, by the time I have sorted out where my next turn is, I have already passed it. One time I overshot my own driveway by a block. I don't care; I'll get there eventually. But other people find it maddening. Sometimes I get in the car and start going without knowing where I'll end up. Again, this doesn't bother me; I know I'll end up somewhere. It made my ex-wife crazy.

Drive faster! Don't stop! Turn the heat on! Slow slow, quick quick! Get rid of that cat hair! Move to Edmond! Why aren't you a Republican? Focus! Why are you wearing that? Be more accessible! Look urgent! Don't sit with your arms folded! Why aren't you saved? Why aren't you in Al-Anon? You and your Moon Pies! Acknowledge your coanchor! Study! Have you done your homework? You need to wear your hair like your daddy!

Folks, this is me. This is it. All there is. I'm not deliberately concealing some advanced mutant power that allows me to be more like you.

I don't want to think anymore. I've had enough thinking.

I've been kind of a shithead today...

...frankly.

All this dog wants to do is sleep

...thank god.

Bailey pix

Since the first effort didn't work, here's another attempt:

Being alive

I'm not saying being alive is a good thing or a bad thing. It is simply the state of affairs in which I currently happen to find myself.

Photo

I'm adding this from the phone. Let's see if it works.

Some developments

I have a dog - a year-old Basett hound named Bailey. That was the name her previous owners gave her, and it's good enough for me.

I'm on the iPhone right now, so no pix, but I'll post a couple later. I posted a couple on Facebook, if you know how to get there.

One of my FB friends commented, "Are you serious? Do you realize you have animals that are JUST LIKE YOU?"

Well, we seem to be compatible. She's curled up beside me on the bed right now. (I originally wrote 'curled up beside me in bed,' but that seemed a little - twisted, for some reason. We're not that compatible.)

Much progress has been made in the master bedroom. The walls and ceiling have been textured by Ms. HRP with an assist from her oldest son. We may buy new crown moulding today.

I have been absent from my usual hangouts and spending more time at home.

All is calm and quiet.

Crowds

I know I'm restating what I've said previously, but it's getting harder and harder to be around groups of people. I find myself joining a group of friends or acquaintances, then bailing out after only a few minutes.

I'm still fine with one or two friends, but beyond that, I start to feel overwhelmed.

My house is a mess, but it's quiet and I have the space all to myself.

It's still dark out, and I'm wrapped in the fuzzy red blanket, and it feels great. Warm, quiet, calm.

Today's objective update

Today's objective was, unfortunately, not accomplished.

We've rescheduled for tomorrow.

Today's objective

...is to take down the ceiling fan in the bedroom.

But first, a nap.

I don't get it.

Sorry, but I don't. I'm at home with my cats and my music. All is calm at this location.

Brain-fried

I spent Friday night at home alone. I let myself get too overexposed to humanity in the previous days and I needed some time to recuperate.

A couple of years ago, I posted a link to a series of photos of a cat sitting in an apartment window watching a bird sitting on the balcony rail. Each photo was accompanied by a mocking statement from the bird.

In one photo, the bird says, "You couldn't handle it out here. It's too crazy." Well, that's how I feel. I can't handle it out there. It's too crazy.

I don't mean to be rude, but you humans confuse the hell out of me.

The Dalai Lama and me

I took an online political test called "The Political Compass" Wednesday evening.



That's my result. I am in almost in exactly the same spot as HH the Dalai Lama, based on his public statements.

You can take the test, and compare yourselves to world figures (and me) here.

Ethereal, part 3

Ms. HRP read my previous two posts on being 'ethereal' and said, "So, what you're looking for is someone who's spaced out."

Well, um... yeah. I guess that kind of covers it.

More on being ethereal

I've broken a promise to myself with these posts. I had made a commitment not to bring this matter up on the blog again for a considerable length of time, but here I am writing about it again.

I want to reiterate the point is moot. There may still be some part of me that wants romance in my life, but the reasoning part of me says my interests are unrealistic to the point of being fantasy, and the spiritual part of me says peace and serenity can me found only on a path leading in another direction.

But since we're talking about fantasy, let's go ahead and fantasize a little. I'm thinking of someone whose interests and thoughts are rarely focused on the so-called 'real world.' That doesn't necessarily mean new age or UFO stuff, since I'm skeptical about both, but it does mean her awareness extends beyond the usual local cultural realm of OU football, American Idol and celebrity gossip, and she's not at all emotionally or intellectually plugged in to that stuff.

Most of the daily stuff going on around her doesn't ruffle her. In fact, she's pretty much imperturbable. She sees phenomena for what they are.

Emotionally, she's pretty low-key. She's never really angry or indignant, nor is she ever enthusiastically cheerful.

She doesn't talk much.

She's a lot like me, in short, only not as grumpy or cynical.

She's looking for a spiritual companion more than someone who fits the conventional description of 'boyfriend.'

She likes animals and kids.

She has about her the aspect of the Bodhisattva of Compassion, although she may not be a fully enlightened person. She's nominally a Buddhist or Taoist, although she may not be a rigorous adherent to forms of practice.

She's a creative person.

I guess that's pretty much the list.

But again, this is just an unproductive fantasy, not an actual goal. The peace I seek will have to be found within me. No one else can bring it to me.

What do you mean by 'ethereal'?

Ms. HRP reads my blog, of course, and sometimes asks me questions about it. Today she asked me, "What do you mean by 'ethereal'?"

She was referring to my frequent posts about looking for an ethereal, gauzy, hippie chick by whom I could be infatuated.

OK, here's the deal: I don't know how to describe it, but I know it when I see it. I've met two women in maybe the past ten years who would qualify in my book as ethereal, or at least partly ethereal. They were both artists, and one was also a musician. Both had a spiritual bent, one Buddhist and one Christian. But they also conveyed this sense of being only loosely tethered to the earth. They were spiritually pretty well grounded, or so they seemed, but I had the sense that a stiff breeze might send either of them drifting away like dandelion seeds, gracefully and serenely floating over lawns and gardens.

Now, personally, I'm about as ethereal as room-temperature oatmeal. If they drifted like dandelion seeds, I'd tumble along like a KFC bucket that had blown out of someone's trash can.

So, perhaps ethereal isn't a good match for me. But as I always say, we can't help the kinds of people to whom we are attracted.

The point is, in any event, moot.

27 degrees

I guess it's still winter. Eric the Viking reports that up in MO, he and Leslie are snowed in at the ranch.

Random thoughts

As I first said years ago, I would rather be lonely than be crazy.

I'll add that I need wisdom more than I need, well, pretty much anything, except food and water.

And nose spray. But that doesn't mean I'm addicted.

Paul Harvey

Paul Harvey is dead at the age of 90. I suppose I should look at him as a role model, in that he remained active right up until the end of his life.

Instead, I find myself thinking, '90?! That would be another 35 freakin' years for me!'

I don't know how old I want to live to be, but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be that old.

Guess I don't get it...

I'm posting from the iPhone, so I'm link-challenged for the moment. But if you go over to Nina/Christina's Flibbertigibbet! site (permanently linked at right), you'll see a clip from a TV show she likes.

In the clip, a woman storms into a guy's office and says indignantly, "I slept with the ne'er-do-well heir to the Fahrquahr humate fortune. I just thought you should know."

And then guy gets all angsty and tells her he's not going to let her walk away from him, and he's not going to let his pride get in the way of whatever, and he's storming the castle walls and something-or-other.

Then she gets all weepy and says she's so sorry, and then he tells her she's really got to 'dig down deep' and think about their relationship.

Their relationship?! This is a relationship?!

Flib writes that she has a crush on this guy, cries when she watches the show, and that the scene just described 'almost did me in.'

I can tell you I would not have a crush on the woman in that scene. In fact, I don't understand anything about that scene.

I've heard some women say they like a guy who, as they put it, 'calls me on my shit,' and I suppose that's what this scene is about.

Being neither a therapist nor a preacher, I don't have much skill or passion for calling people on their 'shit.'

How about we agree that I won't act like a crazy person if you won't?

Links

New and returned links. Ms. HRP's blog, Long Ryde Home, is back on the links list, and joining it is the blog of Kathryn McCampbell, sometimes referred to here as Nurse K.

How I made Ms. HRP cry

We were at dinner last night, and talking about what we'd do if we won the lottery. I mentioned that I expect to live about another fifteen years (which would put me in my seventies), and that I had already lived as much as I needed to live.

She looked at me with a sort of stunned expression on her face. She sat back in her chair, staring at me with the same expression. It was as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing, and the news was too awful to be true. And then tears welled up in her eyes and started streaming down her face.

Maybe she'll clarify this on her own blog. My own inference was that she was aghast that someone could hold life so casually and dispassionately.

I explained to her something I have written about here before - that I have completed everything I was 'supposed' to do in this life, and I am now trying to relax and appreciate each day as it comes. No big plans, no ambitious goals.

"You make it sound like you're going to just lay down and die," she said, still wiping back tears.

I withheld my response, which would have been, 'Yes, that's about it.' But I think my silence said it as clearly as the words would have.

"What if you fall in love?" she asked.

"What if I get hit by a meteor?" I replied.

Let me reiterate that I like my life these days. No drunk family members to clean up after. No narcissistic TV personalities whose egos need constant stroking. No government coworkers dumping their inboxes in my lap so they can do their nails or watch YouTube.

I get up when I want to get up, and I go to sleep when I want to go to sleep. I walk away from drama. I am not a team player.

But I also know that everything, including life itself, is impermanent, and no amount of rushing to and fro looking for passion and excitement will change that. Attachment always leads to separation and suffering.

In a couple of hours the birds will be singing in the back yard. I'll go to the Red Cup and say good morning to my friends and acquaintances. I hope to enjoy these pleasures for as many years as I have left, whether it's fifteen or five.

But even if it's only five, I hope I'll reach the end with calm and equanimity.

What day is this?

Slept pretty well until I was awakened by another crazy-ass 'previous career' dream. As usual, there was that pleasant flash of realization that, yes, it was just a dream, and no, I don't have to worry about that stuff anymore.

Somebody's cat

I found somebody's cat dead in the street a block down from my house last night. At first glance, lit by my headlights, it looked like it might have been the long-missing Smudge, but it was not.

I touched her. She was still warm, and rigor mortis had not begun. She had been dead only a few minutes. I picked her up and put her on the grass, off the pavement. I stroked her side a few times, which did nothing for her, but made me feel a little better.

My street is so quiet it's hard to imagine how you would hit an animal with a car unless you were trying to. But we've had a half-dozen or more cats killed since last spring in this two-block stretch. No dogs, and only a couple of squirrels, but a lot of cats. I suspect we've had someone move into the neighborhood who enjoys running them down.

(Years ago in Texas, I worked with a guy who ran over all kinds of animals, and had practiced until he could aim his company Tahoe with deadly accuracy. It was an expression, he said, of the dominion God had given him over the beasts in the field and the birds in the air. He was eventually fired, and last I heard was marketing himself as an evangelist.)

I remain somewhat closer to dogs and cats than to humans. If I were forced to choose - and I hope I never am - I would give up human contact before I would give up animals.

Do you like those Geico 'celebrity guest' commercials?

Random stuff

I haven't posted much of anything lately, because everything's been pretty calm and sedate with me. (As mentioned previously, there's been some drama in my general vicinity, but it's not about me.)

But I feel like I ought to post something, for crying out loud, so here are a few random statements of fact and opinion.

1. I had never heard of Rihanna or Chris Brown until this week. I assume they're singers, but I don't even know that for sure. I asked someone about thirty years younger than me, and he didn't know who they were, either.

2. I'm going to tune out any cable TV or talk radio rant that includes the line, "This is America!" - as if that somehow proves the ranter's point.

3. I've sort of dropped contact with my favorite willowy gauzy ethereal Buddhist friend. This happened about a month and a half ago. We met for lunch, she said something about her boyfriend, and I could feel my face turn red. I don't know what it looked like, but if it was enough that I could feel it, it must have been obvious. Equally obvious by that point was that my emotional response to that situation is more or less beyond my control, and I've been kidding myself thinking I could manage it or maintain equanimity about it. I'm not going to make myself crazy over it - nor am I going to drive her crazy, for that matter.

4. I liked the Obama "HOPE" poster, but I'm tired of the knockoffs. I saw one for Bill Maher tonight, and another for Bernard Madoff. Enough is enough.

5. Work continues on redecorating the master bedroom. Ms. HRP will probably finish texturing the walls tomorrow. She's also redoing the ceiling, and doing something to the floor as well.

6. I've been building up my classical music library. I'm blah about Beethoven, and I've never liked Mozart. Janácek, Dvořák, Shostakovich, Sibelius and others are more to my liking.

7. The iPhone changed my life. Not necessarily for the better, some would say.

8. And finally, a picture of a couple of cats sleeping.



This was sent by a relative, and I don't know where it originated.

Drama

There has been a little bit more drama in my than usual lately. But I have been mostly an observer. None of it has been directed at me or involved me except as I have chosen to be involved.

Ms. Home Rehab Person, as you may have heard, was hit by a ginormous cement truck and is probably lucky to be alive, having escaped with painful but non-life threatening injury to her anterior region.

The other matters will not be described here. I will only say that they all involve some thought processes that I can't follow, and some antagonisms and disputes that from my perspective are not worth the energy being put into them.

It's the kind of stuff that gets me thinking again about a cabin in the woods somewhere.

I continue to be frustrated and disappointed that the great mass of humanity doesn't see everything the way I do.

Saturday morning

I still have nothing to report.

Wednesday PM

Not a freakin' thing to report.

The weather

The tornados were 'way north of me. I'm fine and the cats are fine.

The Past

I've been exposed this past week to a collection of thirty-year-old photos from my TV days - including the one posted yesterday.

I'm rather ambivalent about my television career. On the whole, I think I would have been happier if I had just stayed in art and never gone off on the TV track.

I was no howling success. I did a lot of anchoring of weekend and noon newscasts and got fired from as many jobs as I quit. Most of the people with whom I coanchored newscasts went on to bigger and better things while I remained behind.

I was a strong writer, but that was the only strength upon which I could build a career, and as writing became less and less important, it was harder for me to stay relevant.

When an employer optioned out of my contract in 1998, I decided to put TV news behind me, and, as much as was possible, live as if I had never been involved in it. It took a couple of years to completely let go - years in which I hung around on TV 'insider' chat boards and stayed in email contact with some of my former coworkers - but eventually I divorced myself more or less completely from the past.

I get some satisfaction from having people tell me they can't believe I was ever on television, or have people who saw me on television not recognize me today.

But seeing all these pictures makes me wonder if it isn't time to embrace my inner Ron Burgundy. I'm through with television, and it's through with me, but maybe I should quit trying to pretend like it never happened - only to have it surface in my nightmares.

Stay classy, Oklahoma City

Publicity/advertising photo from about 1976. Why was I the only one wearing plaid?

Red Rock Canyon hike

Four of us went for a hike in Red Rock Canyon State Park south of Hinton on Thursday.
I wasn't sure I was in shape for that experience, but I mostly kept up with the group, which included Jonathan Majid and Maureen Kidd.
Ms. HRP was in the group, too, and got the best photos... not surprising, since she used to teach photography. I have the better camera, but she has the better eye.
She's put many of her pictures on her MySpace page, and I've put some of mine on my Facebook page.

A night at the opera

Wednesday

I have nothing to report.

What I ate today

An apple and a chunk of Cracker Barrel cheddar cheese

Some kind of Special K snack bar

A banana

A bowl of white bean soup at The Red Cup

About two thirds of a beef shishkebab at Zorba's

Another apple

Too much food

We're having our big Lunar New Year celebration this weekend, and a friend and I ate at a local Vietnamese/Chinese place Saturday night.

The plate of food I was served was enough to sustain me at my current level of activity for perhaps three days. But I stuffed it all down.

I eat out most of the time, and I am always served far more food than I need to eat. And yet I almost invariably eat all of it. I like to eat, that is, the actual physical experience of eating. And I am still bothered by the thought of the food going to waste - even though more harm is done by my eating it than would be done if it were left on the plate. Plus, there's the twisted economic consideration: I paid for it, dammit, and I'm going to eat it.

It is hard to change my eating habits. I've had some success forcing myself to leave food behind, but not enough success. Even though the amount I eat is detrimental to my health, I can't break the habit of overeating.

Fat and slow

My day has concluded.

4:38 am

Nothing. Go back to sleep.

The things I care about

I was scrolling through a local chat board about city events and news this evening. I couldn't find a thing there I wanted to read about. I went to the Huffington Post and found only a couple of things I was interested in. I checked Americablog, another progressive blog, and found next to nothing there.

I'm finding it harder and harder to find anything worth attention.

There is stuff going on in the world that I feel like I ought to care about, but I can't seem to generate any enthusiasm, indignation or even amusement about them. I think I'm turning into a genuine misanthrope.

Lose the gut and speed up!

"Lose the gut and speed up!" was the advice I was given Thursday evening. But I don't remember what it was in relation to.

I've mentioned before I would benefit from losing weight, and perhaps I will.

This 'speed up' thing has been hanging around my neck almost all my life. I remember in second grade I was scolded for being too kinetic, and that was the last time that happened.

By third grade I needed to 'show more enthusiasm', and I was in my forties before I figured out that meant I should do pretty much the same thing I was already doing, only with more animated facial expressions and body language. And even that wasn't because it would make me more productive - it was just to increase the comfort level of those around me who had grown up in families where everyone rolled their eyes and gasped and exclaimed and enthused and thrust their heads forward and nodded emphatically and carried on about everything like you see them do at Junior League events and the Evil Empire Starbuck's.

When I was in TV, they told me I needed to 'look urgent.' That meant look as if I was saying something really really interesting and important, even if it was actually horse shit, which most of the time it was.

My idea of 'looking urgent' was the expression on the faces of guys lined up outside the rest room at a bar, but that was not the look my bosses were after.

Now we come to the thing about how slow I walk. Some people, I am told, are 'offended' by how slow I walk - people who have invested a lifetime in purposeful striding. I don't anticipate this will change, so if my slow walking offends you, perhaps you should just cover your eyes or look the other way when I'm walking. I wouldn't want to outrage your brisk, perky sensibilties.

Wednesday evening

I have nothing to report.

The lights are still on

Two days of sleet, snow and freezing rain, and I still have electricity... for which I am grateful.

Danielle Ate the Sandwich

Discovered via BoingBoing:



I wonder what makes this video so charming to me. Is it the open refrigerator door? The corny old Mamas & Papas arrangement of the tune? The eyeglasses? The ukelele?

Her YouTube channel is called Danielle Ate the Sandwich

Tuesday evening: I'll be your huckleberry

Another day of hacking and wheezing. I don't feel bad at all, but the cough sounds terrible. I spent part of the afternoon at the Red Cup, but I gave up an went home because the coughing was driving me crazy and, I suspect, annoying others. I was carrying on like Doc Holliday in the last reel of 'Tombstone.'

But this will clear up, eventually.

Monday morning

Blah. Urgflbtz. Shit.

48 hours

I'm coming up on 48 hours with this cough. This is not unheard of for me during the winter - I've had coughs like this last for weeks.

But my throat is raw from all the hacking, and the reflex muscles in my chest are sore.

And here's Saturday

I didn't sleep very well last night, which isn't surprising. I went to Jimmy's Egg with Nurse K and ate about half of a breakfast, and had a bowl of black bean soup at the RC later in the day. Other than that, I've mostly been in bed. The sinus pressure had eased, and I'm not having chills anymore, but I'm still coughing a lot.

All in all, nothing I can't deal with.

That's my Friday

I ate a bowlful of sliced fruit for brunch (I hate that word!) and other than that, haven't had a thing to eat today. I've been in bed most of the day.

I had the chills for a couple of hours, and supplemented the big fuzzy red blanket with a second one. Now the chills seem to have passed, but my sinuses hurt, the joints in my legs ache and my mouth feels hot and dry.

That's my Friday.

This is for all the single people, thinking that love has left them dry

From The Press Association:

A man accused of breaking into a adult shop to have sex with blow-up dolls has been arrested by police in Australia. The 23-year-old broke into the shop in the northern city of Cairns several times, having sex with a doll named "Jungle Jane," the Cairns Post newspaper reported.

More here.

Awake again

Fell asleep about ten, then woke up about midnight. Fell asleep again about 4 am, almost immediately had another creepy TV news dream and woke up again. Still coughing and hacking, plus discomfort from sinus pressure.

I'll apologize right now

My winter cough has returned.

Some of you will recall winters past when I developed the dry, croupy cough that sounded like I might send a lung flying across the room.

I suppose that once again, the cough will drag on into March. I apologize in advance for the annoyance.

A forecast high of 72

I've been feeding the birds all through the fall and winter, but today is the first day in weeks I've spent the afternoon in the back yard watching them

The wrens are still around, but the jays and my one red-headed woodpecker seem to have moved on. I still have some doves, but not as many as were here in September and October.

I saw one male cardinal, and there are a couple of grackels out here.

I've seen one squirrel, sitting on the roof of the garage for the house behind mine.

I wish I could go back to sleep

I've been up killing some time this morning. I worked on an art project, did a quick cat shit safari, and then surfed the web for awhile. I wish I could go back to sleep.

Yoga update

Well, the yoga thing didn't happen, after all. Maybe Friday.

But I got plenty of exercise hauling shelving out of the house today.

Exhaustion

This just about wore me out. Stretching, straining, twisting muscles long unused. I feel drained.

And that's just cleaning out the back bedroom. I still have yoga later this evening.

I have to go now. Ms. HRP is calling me to move another box of old computer parts.

Yoga: Change We Can Believe In

Yoga classes begin tomorrow evening - a two-week trial. These are the classes Ms. HRP persuaded me to undertake.

We'll see how it goes.

Inauguration Day

I watched the inauguration on MSNBC at Galileo. I feel a tremendous sense of relief that the crazy people are gone, and sanity will - I hope - prevail in Washington.

Oh, but my massive popularity is no accident

As I mentioned in a previous post, I am an introvert. I scored higher as an "I" on the Meyers-Briggs test than on any other personality trait, and almost as strong an "I" as it's possible to be.

So here's a little bit more from around the web on what it means to be an introvert.

Introverts process their emotions, thoughts, and observations internally. They can be social people, but reveal less about themselves than extroverts do. Introverts are more private, and less public. Introverts need time to think before responding to a situation, and develop their ideas by reflecting privately. Introverts' personality traits can be passionate, but not usually aggressive.

More here.

Introverts:
Enjoy time alone
Consider only deep relationships as friends
Feel drained after outside activities, even if they were fun
Good listener
Appear calm and self-contained
Think then speak or act

More here. This site is too cute by quite a bit more than half ("Hi! I'm Teddi Turtle!"), but the information is valid.

When introverts want to be alone, it is not, by itself, a sign of depression. It means that they either need to regain their energy from being around people or that they simply want the time to be with their own thoughts. Being with people, even people they like and are comfortable with, can prevent them from their desire to be quietly introspective.

More here.

Most introverts don't like me, but I don't need them anyway. I have enough people desperately seeking my attention. Oh, but my massive popularity is no accident. I studied social psychology and human behavior for years to alter my personality and become a master of social manipulation and human interaction.

More here. Maybe this is a joke, but I don't think so.

One of the great things about being retired is that I'm able to almost completely manage the amount of time I spend around other people. No more networking for me, folks... have a good time at Toastmasters.

Life is filled with suffering

The Buddha is often quoted as saying, "Life is filled with suffering." But the word the Buddha used, dukkha, means much more - and at the same time, a little less - than suffering.

Here's an explanation of it.

And here's another.

Monday

I got up about 7:30 to go to the Red Cup, realized I was not up to social contact today, and went back to bed.

Maybe I can do it later.

The introvert's view

I am by nature an introvert. Groups of people emotionally and mentally drain me.

I'm OK with very large groups, such as I might encounter in a shopping mall (although I dislike malls for other reasons). But groups of ten to fourteen people, where I'm expected to simultaneously follow two or three conversations and contribute to each, overload me to the extent that I often find myself falling asleep as my mind tries to protect itself.

And this may be evidence of some fundamental arrogance and elitism, but I often find myself listening to conversations and thinking, "How can you even waste time and energy talking about that? You'd be better off saying nothing at all - and so would we." Even when I was a fairly heavy drinker in my twenties, I don't think I considered being drunk to be such a grand adventure that I had to talk about it as if it were a trip abroad.

I suspect the early Taoist masters were introverts. The frequent advice to remove oneself from political and social intrigues, to stay close to nature and to speak infrequently reflect the introvert's basic nature.

I'd be happy to find a small community of like-minded individuals. But I guess it's our basic nature to not form communities.

Infatuation epilogue

Whenever I have one of these spells of infatuation or romantic frustration, I feel I should post some sort of epilogue when it concludes.

The stages of these things generally run the same way: initial attraction, a bit of familiarity, infatuation, indecision, action, rejection, disappointment, analysis and self-recrimination, and finally acceptance and a return to my daily life.

If I had to name one thing that stands in the way of peace for me, it would be these occasional forays into emotional turmoil. They rank 'way above whatever comes next.

Zen master Seung Sahn used to say, "just put it down." I don't think he was talking about stuff like this, but the admonition is just as applicable.

But for me, at least, putting it down is still a struggle.

After midnight

Just woke up from a dream in which I'm hiding in a vacant warehouse with some stray animals while outside, some guy having nervous breakdown while flying an A-10 Thunderbolt is firing rounds at random into my building and the ones around it. A dog hiding with me is hit and superficially wounded.

Early to bed

I was in bed by 6:55 this evening. Cold weather and short days make me want to hibernate. I slept about ninety minutes, had some weird dream which I no longer remember, then woke up again.

I'm craving a good book to read.

Friday morning

Awakened a couple of times by strange dreams yet again. Other than that, nothing to report.

Topcoat

Among the artifacts uncovered from the back bedroom this week was a wool topcoat that I bought in about 1984 or '85.

It still sort of fits, oddly enough. The moths have done a pretty extensive job on it, but I'm probably going to keep it and wear it once in awhile. Its general shabbiness sort of reflects my current state of life.

Sleep

I haven't mentioned the trouble I've been having with sleep. It's been worse than usual lately.

I sleep for about two hours, and am then awakened by some crazy dream. I go back to sleep, sleep about two hours, and am awakened by another crazy dream. Sleep two hours, wake up... sleep two hours, wake up.

It's hard to get any rest.

Better days

This blog was a lot more interesting in January of last year.

COBRA

I got a note in the mail today telling me my post-retirement COBRA insurance expires in two weeks.

I got some mixed signals from my former employer last fall and had been most recently left with the impression I had another year of coverage. I probably just misunderstood.

In any event, I've got to move forward pretty quickly on getting some insurance in place.

Music

We uncovered a big pile of music CDs while working in the back bedroom Wednesday. It included a lot of stuff that I'll probably never listen to again, but I also found some classical CDs that I'll put on iTunes.

I bought these CDs ten to twenty years ago.

A good Taoist would probably say, 'What musician creates sounds as fine as those of nature?' But I've gotten used to having music available all the time.

Stiff all over

Ms. HRP and I did some more excavating of the back bedroom today. As usual, she did most of the work and also helped me stay on task, since my attention span for a project like this can be measured in minutes.

I'll be OK in the morning, but right now I'm so stiff I can barely move. I didn't do that much heavy lifting, but it doesn't take much to get me kind of froze up.

We discussed refinishing the floors this afternoon. Lord knows they need it, but it would mean pretty much clearing out the house then moving back in when it was over.

Ms. HRP has suggested we take yoga classes together. I'm trying to imagine me twisting my potato-sack body into even the least challenging positions. I guess it might do me some good - a former colleague from my TV days says yoga preserved his ability to walk.

Rolling Stone

I was once in the Albertson's supermarket with a then-girlfriend picking up groceries for dinner. She went one way and I went another. After I had picked up my list of provisions, I spotted Rolling Stone on the magazine rack. I don't remember who was on the cover, but something prompted me to stop and take a look.

Suddenly my girlfriend's voice interrupted me. "Why are you looking at that?" she demanded.

"Oh, it's just Rolling Stone," I replied. "I haven't looked at one in years."

"Yeah," she said, "I know what kind of man reads Rolling Stone," she said. "Middle-aged men who are going to" - and her voice started rising - "grow ponytails, then LEAVE THEIR WIVES, ABANDON THEIR CHILDREN AND RUN OFF WITH A GRADUATE STUDENT HALF THEIR AGE!!!"

By the time she got to 'run off with a graduate student' she was actually yelling at me (or actually her ex-husband by proxy), and other people in the store were staring at us. Maybe this helps explain why, weeks later, I climbed out a window to get away from her.

But she was exactly the kind of woman my friends thought I was 'supposed' to be with: sturdy and sensible, headed for alcoholism with a boatload of rage.

That was another in my experiments in trying to have a relationship with someone to whom I was not actually attracted, but whom I was 'supposed' to be with.

I can't help the kind of person to whom I am attracted. But I would rather be alone than be with someone I am 'supposed' to be with.

Off to New Mexico

Just had a dream in which a news director was going to send a photographer and me to New Mexico on a breaking story. Fortunately, I woke up. I wish it had been that easy in real life.

Here's a little good news

I paid my credit card bills yesterday and was pleasantly surprised to see how small the balances were. They were about half what they had been the previous month. And some of what was on this month's bills was stuff that was actually purchased during the previous billing period, but didn't get processed in time.

I want to cut further, not only to save money, but also because this house is still so full of crap I can't turn around.

Cat overdrive

The cats, incidentally, are in some sort of overdrive this morning. I need some sort of cat sedative.

Cultivating despair

I had lunch Tuesday with a willowy, ethereal, Buddhist kind of hippie artist woman I've known for several years (who may or may not read this).

Any details of our conversation would be a violation of her privacy. Suffice it to say I went directly from lunch to VZD's, where I spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening cultivating despair.

I need to let go of this, and it's part of a larger thing I also need to let go of.

There was a Zen teacher - I forget which one - who talked about this in very plain, almost defeatist language. He didn't sugar coat it with terms like 'non-attachment'; he just said 'give up.'

That runs counter to our American notion of 'try, try again' and 'never give up, never surrender,' but the teacher was right. And he called it what it was without trying to make it lofty or profoundly spiritual. Just give up.

I mentioned something in a previous post about people who refuse to see the world as it is. Here's an example of me not seeing the world as it is. Actually, I do see it, but I've indulged the occasional hope over the years that the relationshiponal equivalent of a faith healing or a UFO landing would happen - and of course, it never has.

When I got home, I found a freshly-laid pile of cat shit in the middle of the den. The cat is trying to enlighten me.