Occasionally, because of my job and the requirement that I use a company car when I’m on call, I have to take the bus to or from work. Sure enough, every time I ride, there’s always something to talk about. i had that rare ride this morning. Warning…random observations follow:
Of the 34 stops between where I get on and get off, we stopped at 30 of them. We stopped at stops I’ve never stopped at before (ugh, I despise using the same word twice in a single sentence, let alone thrice).
You know that window that’s supposed to open only in emergencies? Every time we turned or braked, that window swung open and shut. Notwithstanding the cold air that came in, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to happen.
Then there was the strung-out mother and her thumb-sucking daughter, who had to be about 6 years old. The mother kept pulling out a “blunt” (a cigarillo with weed stuffed inside of it) from a pack of Newport cigarettes, replacing it, and pulling it out again. The daughter wanted some sort of attention, but the mother was too busy fiddling with the blunt to even notice her. Good times.
There was a guy in his 60s sitting near me. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but when he got up, his pants were so low, I saw things that I didn’t need to see. Especially in public. On a bus.
- Apparently, I was on the bus with the Forrest Gump of Chicago’s South Side. Speaking loud enough for everyone on the bus to hear, he told tales of delivering flowers to, and then getting to party with, all the major stars. He allegedly drank champagne with Jay-Z and Beyonce, hung with Kanye and Kim, and drove R. Kelly’s 2014 Bentley after they ate at Red Lobster together. There was much more, I’m sure. I had to turn off my brain at that point.
It’s always a trip, literally and figuratively, on those rare occasions where I have to take the bus. Good times, good times.
Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
These are always the toughest types of questions for me to answer. They require not only a large amount of introspection, but the right mixture of optimism, realism, and cynicism in order to be completely honest. So let’s talk about the year 2018…
I’ll be 48 years old in 2018. Ugh. That seems ancient to me. What is more frightening to me is that my children will really not be children anymore. My oldest will be 20, my daughter will turn 17, and the youngest will be 12 and in middle school. They’ll be needing me a lot less than they do now, which both saddens and elates me. Their budding independence will bring me a little more of my own independence. My kids have always been, and will continue to be, the driving force in my life, even though I will expect to see them a lot less. On a side note, seeing as my daughter will be 17, and knowing what teenage boys want from teenage girls (having been a teenage boy myself), I will be purchasing my first gun.
I see myself beginning to make retirement plans and preparing for the “second phase” of my life. I will (God willing) be at the same job that I’m at now. I may complain here about work, but I’m truly thankful to have this job. I’m happy here and feel quite respected for the work that I do. I see myself in the exact same position that I’m in now, and I’m perfectly happy with that. There are few opportunities to move up from where I am now, and I don’t have the desire to take any higher position. I don’t say that out of laziness, though. There are a myriad reasons why I would want to stay where I am. And I’ll be even better at the position than I am now. Each day I’m here makes me happier and more content in one area of my life.
With the kids growing and the job going well, I will break out of my shell and become a more sociable man in five years. I might actually make it to a CHSH gathering between now and then. Crazy, right? I have a whole post I’m working on about my isolation, so I won’t delve too much into it here. Besides, this portion is the equivalent of page 47 of the iOS users’ agreement—you’re not even reading this by now, anyway.
I sincerely believe that I’ll be in a stable, loving, long-tem relationship in five years. One with mutual respect and deep, intense love. A type of love that I don’t know I’ve ever yet experienced from a woman.
I foresee a happier, healthier me in every way—not just physically. With the right support and care, I will be able to do anything I set my mind to. I truly believe that.
merry christmas heres your fucking ketchup
What, you couldn’t spring for some fucking Grey Poupon?
Nothing says, “I love you” like a bottle of ketchup.
It’s not even fancy ketchup, either. That I can see as a gift. “We only pull out the fancy ketchup on special occasions, like Grandma’s birthday and such…”
- I woke up unbelievably worked up (yes, in that way) and had no time or ability to do anything about it this morning. Or at all today.
- I’ve had to change work cars three times today because the first two were dead.
- I keep missing the opportunity to talk to someone special today because I’m getting busy here at work at the most inopportune of times.
- I dropped a nearly-full 500-count bottle of Tylenol, most of which spilled all over my floor. And I confirmed that I’m not Rain Man, because I couldn’t count within seconds how many fell on the floor.
- My work Christmas party is tonight. I’m on call, though, which means I’m not allowed to drink. So I’d better find a way to eat 30 bucks worth of shitty fried food in order to get my money’s worth.
- Waiting for prettypurplecrush to post my crush is quite nerve-wracking. I love that she does this, and it makes the wait worthwhile to see the love and positivity sent out for all to see. Thank her when you get the chance. I have.
Another high school shooting in Littleton, where i was raised. Technically, that part of town is called Centennial now, but it will always be Littletion to me.
My sister went to that high school. I went to the rival high school. I spent many hours and days at Arapahoe High School for various reasons.
My psyche already has endured Columbine, another rival high school of mine. Now this?
I can’t. I can’t even.
Really, Denver Broncos? Really?!? You can’t beat a below-.500 team with a crybaby quarterback to make sure you keep the top seed in the playoffs? It’s a good thing I didn’t see the game last night, or I’d be in a much more awful mood.
Festivus is almost upon us. It’s my favorite holiday of the year. I used to give out cards with homemade “Festivus poles” attached (just wrap a piece of a drinking straw in aluminum foil). I think I need to do something like that again.
I have to come up with almost $350 by December 31st to keep my professional license current. Happy holidays!
I still have more shopping to do before Christmas than I’d like. I don’t have much time left.
I don’t have much time left because I have to be on call for my work beginning the 17th and ending at noon on Christmas Eve. I’m technically not supposed to leave the city limits during that time, which limits my ability to get some cheaper shopping done.
Last night, one of my neighbors that I have shared drinks with (but wouldn’t consider a close friend) asked me for an emergency loan of $3,500. Yes, I typed that correctly. What an awkward conversation.
As long as I’m on a money rant, I agreed to take the people I supervise out to lunch on Tuesday. That ought to set me back about $150.
It was one of our coldest days of the year yesterday, which, of course, meant that our heat would go out at work for three hours.
Coming up with 13 things is hard.
Thanks for all the kind words and hearting my SST last night. I obviously don’t show my face here for work reasons, so to be more revealing was very nerve-wracking to me.
Being late to the proverbial party as usual, I didn’t realize that on your tracked tags there’s a little lock icon which you have to “unlock” if you want to be able to see all of the content under a particular tag. I was wondering why my picture wasn’t coming up on the tagged page. Apparently it was considered “explicit” content by someone here at Tumblr.
I continue to dislike Fridays and weekends and look forward to Mondays. STM: I get to spend more time with you during the week, which makes me much happier and more content.
I despise odd numbers. Ending this list on an odd number is going to give me agita for hours and days to come.
Throwback Thursday/SST—that time I got brave for about 2 minutes before taking this post down. We’ll see how long it lasts this time…
How did I not discover Halestorm sooner?
If you’d like to participate in some public introspection, say 5 nice things about yourself and if you feel so inclined, ask some of your other favs to do it too.
Five nice things about myself? This is always a hard one for me.* I’m not the biggest fan of myself, but lately I’ve been on the receiving end* of some very kind and encouraging words, which motivate me to see myself in a more positive light. But hey, enough of my yakkin’—let’s boogie!**
- I’m the king of confidentiality. Anyone can tell me something in confidence, and I won’t repeat it. I have many Tumblr secrets that will go with me to the grave. You can come vent to me anytime and I won’t tell a soul. Take me up on it—I dare you.
- I think I write rather well. It is such a compliment to me to know that someone might be touched by my words. Sometimes my words cause me to touch myself. Wait…let me rephrase that.
- I love my baby blue eyes.
- I’m a decent father. I’ll sacrifice anything to make sure their lives are not too upended and that they have the stability they need. However, I don’t call them “the consumers” for just any reason.
- I have quite an eclectic taste in music. That’s an asset* because I will generally be able to bond with someone over their musical tastes.
Number five is a reach, I know. But I’m working on it. Slowly but surely.
* That’s what she said.
**If you know the movie I just quoted, you can be my best friend.
Ohhhh…you mean ‘SANTA’!My daughter, who used air quotes about Santa when I told her to make a list for him. I think she’s done believing. Shit.
One of the funniest Christmas tunes in the history of ever.
Describe 16 year old you? What were you like, personality, looks etc?
Do you remember that awkward time in your life, between about ages 12 and 17, where, not only are you trying to establish your own self-identity, but you’re trying to also establish an identity among your peers, who are also struggling with their own identities?
Yeah. That time in your life. Don’t worry. I’ve tried to forget it, too.
Who was I at 16? Let’s see…I was still a fairly religious kid. I was struggling internally, though, with the guilt and shame that was pounded into my head at church every Sunday. These feelings were conflicting with my doubt and my need to rebel. I still dutifully went to church every Sunday and Wednesday, but my heart and head weren’t really in it. I was busy fantasizing about girls instead of listening to the “fire and brimstone” speeches from the pulpit.
I was friendly and outgoing, more so than I am now. I would never describe myself as popular. If there was any sort of “inner circle” to join, I was always on the cusp—close enough to see in, but not popular enough to join. I was friends with every type of person, though, which might have been one reason why I was never a true part of the “in” crowd. Most of the time it didn’t matter to me what my social status was. But there were those days where I ached to be able to be a part of the “cool kids” network. Those days were the more painful ones. Even today, that need to be accepted comes out at various times—at work, with friends, even on Tumblr. That feeling reminds me of that 16 year-old me.
I wasn’t an athlete or actor. I was the proverbial “band geek”. That was my primary identity. Now, I know I’ve mentioned in other posts that my musical ability and participation took me places and gave me opportunities that I never would have gotten without it. I was just beginning to feel like I was excelling in something. I had enough natural talent that I was able to be in the top groups and keep up with the others. That’s the band part. Here comes the geek part. I also played in a professional Dixieland jazz band. We played private parties and at traditional jazz festivals in order to raise money. We also spent our summers playing at the local amusement park daily. I made more money than a 16 year-old should. Of course, I found a way to save none of it and spend nearly all of it. It was because of this band, though, that I got to take a trip to Switzerland and play in the prestigious Montreux Jazz Festival. We were part of the free acts that were stationed all over the city, but that didn’t matter to us. We played on the same stage that Dizzy Gillespie had played on the night before. It was one of the more amazing moments in my life.
Physically, I was just your regular-looking kid. My hair was bright blond (it has since turned brown—and gray) and full. I was skinny…man, was I skinny! I could eat anything and not gain weight. I wasn’t muscular by any means, but I didn’t have those Olive Oyl-type arms and legs, either. It’s hard for me to describe in words.
Okay…so this is what I looked like around 16, full geek look and all:
Yes, that’s me. I’m a bit older than 16 here, but this is the only photo I could find on my computer to upload. And yes, I’m humping a cannon in England.
Enjoy the picture while it lasts…
- Closed one file.
- Had an in-depth discussion with a coworker about “Sons of Anarchy”, now that I’m finally caught up.
- Went out for a Diet Coke.
- Had an in-depth discussion with a different coworker about “Breaking Bad”.
- Spent the remainder of my time on Kik and Voxer.
So I think it’s been a rather productive day so far, don’t you?