Click on the headline of this post and take a moment inspect the merchandise. I am sure that you will find something that does more than just “fit” you.
Archives for February 2011
Still Crazy After All These Years
Click on the headline and see what’s inside.
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3oEA6zK_8u8
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wj5F0vT_dWo
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EaHGdzPLhx8
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cT8dMU5vyTE
httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaHLlGtOZbg
The Power of No- Part One
“Just because something doesn’t do what you planned it to do doesn’t mean it’s useless.“- Thomas Edison
When I was 17 I accidentally shaved off most of my right sideburn. I can’t remember how long it was, but it wasn’t anything that could considered a mutton chop. It was a normal size that was appropriate for my head/face. At least it was until I took out my trimmer and screwed it up. In the interest of uniformity and a desire not to look silly I promptly adjusted the other one so that I would have a matching set. I then set off for school and forgot about it.
Or should I say had forgotten about it until 6th period at which point in time my friend Jeff asked me what I had done and why. I told him that I had done it in honor of the Challenger and the astronauts that had lost their lives. Don’t ask me why I said that because I can’t remember if I was serious or screwing around. It was a foolish thing to say because it was personal grooming malfunction and not intentional. Not to mention that there is no correlation between facial hair and a spaceship. But I have always had a very active imagination and an insouciant attitude so I can’t say that I am surprised that I said that.
Truth is that I am capable of saying almost anything at any time. Blame it on my having removed all of the filters that we use to monitor ourselves in public. That is not to say that I can’t keep my mouth shut because that is not real hard for me to do either. I am very comfortable with silence.
But it is also fair to say that I have my own way of doing things. There is the hard way, the right way and my way. Sometimes my way has been the source of much mischief and stress. I have been my own worst enemy and my own superhero. I mention this because I have been thinking a lot about what my life is like now and what I want it to be like. I have been playing and replaying scenes in my head and trying to work out where I would make changes. I can’t reset the clock or start over in the way that I would prefer and that is ok.
My children are a different story. I smile whenever I think of them. I spend time trying to figure out what I can do to help them in their journey. I sometimes wonder if they would benefit from my trying to guide them towards certain professions. That is because I look at my history and think that there are some pitfalls and hurdles that could be overcome if they had the awareness that I do. Yet, I don’t really want to push them one way or another because I think that there is merit in finding your own way. My grandfather used to say that “you can’t screw a young head on old shoulders.” I didn’t like it much when I was a kid but that was because I didn’t understand it.
Now I see things differently and it is because of life experience that I will probably not push them to be doctors or scientists. I want them to find their passion and follow that. I want them to suck the marrow out of life and the best way I know how to do that is to engage and interact with people and things you love. That is not to say or suggest that I won’t tell them if I think they are making a mistake because when warranted I will do so. Yet, the life that they are living is their own and not mine. My role while they are young is to be more involved to help them gain the skills and experiences they need to be productive people. But time will take some of that from me soon enough.
And I can’t help but wonder what sort of response they will have to the power of no. More on this to come in a subsequent post.
Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow
And now a few words from our sponsor.
The Boundaries of Blogging
Dig through the archives of the blog and you’ll find that I have tested the boundaries of blogging on multiple occasions. I have written posts that were taken from darker places of my soul and those that light up my heart. Read my words and learn things that I have never shared with those who are closest to me. Discover truths about Jack that are perhaps better left unsaid among polite company. Recognize that sometimes I write from happiness and sometimes hurt.
These words I write here are sometimes the best example of my own humanity. These words I write are where I let down my guard and allow unfettered access to places that no one gets to see. It is not always easy to read what I have written. Not because it is riddled with grammatical errors and or spelling mistakes. I rarely say moot when I mean to use mute or make similar mistakes. It is hard because sometimes I read these words and see something raw and unpleasant.
The blog is daylight shone upon darkness. It is where I am forced to confront broken promises and dreams that remain unfulfilled. It is where I air out and explore my dark side.
But it is also filled with happy thoughts, silly stories and unabashed optimism about the future. Interspersed among the painful places are those that are filled with the sort of joy that makes my heart sing and my spirit soar. Goofy, I know but it is what is. Still, I haven’t forgotten that there are boundaries that are probably best observed and not ignored. So some stories are never told nor hinted at. Some pieces of Fragments of Fiction are complete fabrications that have no basis in fact and are mere fantasy.
This blog is what it is, but whatever that “is” is, I like it.
What Once Was
“So I kissed you one last time. One final kiss so that we’d never forget. One kiss so that if we ever lost our way we could use it to find our way back.”
These Pictures of You
It is funny to look back upon the words that mark a past that I never expected to see and experiences I never expected to have. I look back and see the wreckage of something beautiful and wonder if there is a phoenix preparing to rise from the carnage. It could happen and I wouldn’t be surprised anymore than I would be if I spotted that bony guy with the scythe staring at me.
I look in the mirror and see a bastard looking back at me. His eyes are sharp and piercing and his lips are curled into a sneer. He is an angry and bitter man who wishes that he could be other than that. He wishes that life were different or at least he used to wish that it were different. These days he feels more like a dog that has been kicked one time too many. These days he is filled with indignation that he wishes he could say was righteous but it is not. There is nothing noble or honorable about it. He recognizes and accepts that.
He won’t say that it is his lot in life to be the tortured soul forever but he accepts that for the indefinite future his penance is to be incarcerated in a cage of his own device. He is his own jailor and there is none crueler than he for he knows every weak spot and he preys upon them all. It is part of how he punishes himself for doing what he swore that he would never do. His role in his walk through hell is to accept that he is there because of his own actions. He won’t call it stupidity because that provides another excuse and he just cannot accept that.
Besides it is easier to cloak himself in anger because that fire allows him to forget what it is he lost. Anger makes it easy to say goodbye to those we miss the most and he has decided that he has to force himself to walk away. None fought harder to hold on than he did. There are no heroes who can say that their efforts to succor and save exceeded his- but sometimes heroes fail. Sometimes they fall and they must accept that failure no matter how bitter it might taste. Once upon a time he was that hero. There were no villains that could stand before him. There were no puzzles that he couldn’t solve or traps that he couldn’t defuse.
And then there was.
In silence and shame he tasted the bitterness of defeat and salty tears dribbled down his cheeks. Alone in the dark he wept and cursed his own weakness and infirmity.
There had been a time where he would have taken the time to analyze what had happened. He would have broken it down into segments and determined where he had made mistakes and somehow he would have fixed those mistakes. By hook or by crook he would have found a way to create the miracle that he needed to save the day.
But he hadn’t and he didn’t. There wasn’t much more to say than that. No need to dwell upon that which he couldn’t fix or face. Accept it. Deal with it. Move on. Put one foot in front of the other and repeat. No different than the directions on the shampoo bottle.
The time for hope is over and the time for despair and dismay has come. Look in the mirror and remember that one day the sneer won’t be needed any longer and the cool waters of regret will be washed away by the amnesia of time and distance.