Tuesday, September 16, 2008
It's not soooo bad?!
Well, 40 came and went. I didn't get struck by a mighty thunderbolt. I didn't have all 6 of my friends jump out and throw a surprise party for me (thank god).
But I did have a good time turning 40; better than I expected.
And maybe that's because I got two gifts I'd been seeking for years.
The first was from the ex. She texted me HAPPY BIRTHDAY! on Friday morning. My reply: I don't feel old ... and where's my fricking present.
Her gift to me: You are old ... and you present is not having me as your nagging wife for the next 40 years!!!
Sounds like a MasterCard commercial to me.
The other present was nearly two decades in the making and involved perhaps the first true lover of my life. Karen, KB for short, has a Sept. 10 birthday. She's now 40, too. I called her out of the blue on Wednesday to wish her a happy one. We got to talking. She's married with three kids about the same age as mine. She's in a loveless marriage. She feels stuck.
But that wasn't really vindication. That, actually, sucks.
No the present came when she said that her life's biggest regret was not coming back to me. Not that I'm anything more than a booby prize, but I think she always knew how much I loved her. He, apparently, doesn't. KB said she realized about a year into her marriage that she'd made a mistake, that she wanted to tell me, but by that time I was already dating the future-former-Mrs. Williams and that KB didn't want to mess things up.
KB even admitted to parking outside Raley's (where I worked graveyards) on the night before she sent her wedding invitations out trying to muster the courage to knock on the window, seek me out and figure out where it would lead.
Which leads to one of the most prophetic quotes of all time: "It's better to regret something you've done, than something you haven't done."
While there's too much time passed for me to even think about KB, the thoughts did drift into the "what ifs" this weekend on the beach. To think about how much different my life would have been is staggering.
But I'm not complaining. I'm happy where I am -- something I don't think I realized before 40. Yes, there is work to do, things to tend to, flaws to fix. But, by and large, life is good.
The final birthday present was the best: a "surprise" party from my boys in our Arcata hotel room. Instead of my six friends, it was thrown by my three favorite people.
Who could ask for more?
But I did have a good time turning 40; better than I expected.
And maybe that's because I got two gifts I'd been seeking for years.
The first was from the ex. She texted me HAPPY BIRTHDAY! on Friday morning. My reply: I don't feel old ... and where's my fricking present.
Her gift to me: You are old ... and you present is not having me as your nagging wife for the next 40 years!!!
Sounds like a MasterCard commercial to me.
The other present was nearly two decades in the making and involved perhaps the first true lover of my life. Karen, KB for short, has a Sept. 10 birthday. She's now 40, too. I called her out of the blue on Wednesday to wish her a happy one. We got to talking. She's married with three kids about the same age as mine. She's in a loveless marriage. She feels stuck.
But that wasn't really vindication. That, actually, sucks.
No the present came when she said that her life's biggest regret was not coming back to me. Not that I'm anything more than a booby prize, but I think she always knew how much I loved her. He, apparently, doesn't. KB said she realized about a year into her marriage that she'd made a mistake, that she wanted to tell me, but by that time I was already dating the future-former-Mrs. Williams and that KB didn't want to mess things up.
KB even admitted to parking outside Raley's (where I worked graveyards) on the night before she sent her wedding invitations out trying to muster the courage to knock on the window, seek me out and figure out where it would lead.
Which leads to one of the most prophetic quotes of all time: "It's better to regret something you've done, than something you haven't done."
While there's too much time passed for me to even think about KB, the thoughts did drift into the "what ifs" this weekend on the beach. To think about how much different my life would have been is staggering.
But I'm not complaining. I'm happy where I am -- something I don't think I realized before 40. Yes, there is work to do, things to tend to, flaws to fix. But, by and large, life is good.
The final birthday present was the best: a "surprise" party from my boys in our Arcata hotel room. Instead of my six friends, it was thrown by my three favorite people.
Who could ask for more?
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Needled
On top of the things I don't ever want to do again: Get a steroid/cortisone injection in my foot.
I'm not the biggest puss in the world, but fuck that hurt. Almost worse than the plantar facistis plaguing me for the past three months.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
40 and Un-fabulous
Well, I guarantee this will be a birthday I never forget.
Unfortunately for all the wrong reasons.
My life feels like a laundry list of "Everything bad, can and will happen:"
Unfortunately for all the wrong reasons.
My life feels like a laundry list of "Everything bad, can and will happen:"
- Girlfriend troubles
- Work issues
- The knowledge that, other than your mom and your kids, no one's going to make a fuss on your landmark birthday
- Acutally turning 40 and realizing there's so much more you could have done with your life
And that's the killer. Shoulda, coulda, Eastwooda.
Yes, it's not too late for me to really start living, but all I want this week is for it to be over, for the birthday to be over. On top of everything, it's like an albatross around my neck. Just let me turn 40, be done with it and head to the ocean, the one place I truly find peace and serenity.
Friday, August 29, 2008
The $64,000 question
It's been rattling through my head for the past few days:
If not now, when?
It applies to all the aspects of my life, the good and the bad.
If not now, when?
It applies to all the aspects of my life, the good and the bad.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Happy birthday to me -- or none for me and one for my homies
I love the lyrics from Cracker's " Happy Birthyday to Me." As someone who doesn't get too excited over his own birthday, I get a little geeked singing Cracker.
Especially today.
No, I'm not turning 40. That is still a few weeks off.
No, today, I'm 17. It's a birthday that will probably pass under the radar, with maybe mom calling to remember. Other than that, who knows. Maybe Chris, who enjoys this birthday more than the bellybutton one because "you have to do something to get this one, all you have to do for the bellybutton birthday is keep breathing."
After all, most people don't really remember your sobriety birthday.
That's right, 17 years ago today I embarked on a life-changing journey -- one I thought utterly impossible at the time.
But here I am, nearly 40 and still sober.
It gives me pause to think I've done something so difficult for the better part of two decades. I remember sitting on Paul's couch, smoking joint after joint until I was sure I couldn't get any higher. I remember wasted mornings sitting next to the Raley's in Antioch, drinking for hours after my graveyard shift ended. I remember rocking up an 8-ball of coke and sitting in a circle with two buddies as we freebased all fucking night, anxiously waiting (fiending) until our turn came around. I remember driving back into Reno from the Fallon Naval Air Station peaking on LSD with six guys in my 1976 Chevy Nova.
There were good times.
There were bad times.
I can't lie.
It made me who I am and I wouldn't trade any of it. But, as I near 40 and somehow look back on the what-ifs of my life, I wonder who and what I could have become if I wasn't a partier, if I wasn't an alcoholic, if I wasn't a dope fiend.
Maybe that's the course I would have ridden down regardless, just at a different point in my life (I did get sober at 23).
It's funny how 17 years can seem both like one day and an eternity. I remember things I've done, places I've been during the party years.
But I also look at who I am today. He isn't that same guy.
He's a little less fun, more reserved and a lot heavier.
Getting sober made me grow up, the arrested development (and that's an accurate term of how my life's seemed to go) unleashed in a confusing array of love, marriage, the baby carriage and starting the single life over again.
I think often, lately especially, of who I am and where I've been. If I could have taken a different path - one less traveled, perhaps? Sadly, it's the nature vs. nurture question, and it's unanswerable.
I am who I am, and my world helped shape me.
So today, I will sit back, celebrate quietly and know where I am is because of where I've been.
And then turn my attention toward 40.
Especially today.
No, I'm not turning 40. That is still a few weeks off.
No, today, I'm 17. It's a birthday that will probably pass under the radar, with maybe mom calling to remember. Other than that, who knows. Maybe Chris, who enjoys this birthday more than the bellybutton one because "you have to do something to get this one, all you have to do for the bellybutton birthday is keep breathing."
After all, most people don't really remember your sobriety birthday.
That's right, 17 years ago today I embarked on a life-changing journey -- one I thought utterly impossible at the time.
But here I am, nearly 40 and still sober.
It gives me pause to think I've done something so difficult for the better part of two decades. I remember sitting on Paul's couch, smoking joint after joint until I was sure I couldn't get any higher. I remember wasted mornings sitting next to the Raley's in Antioch, drinking for hours after my graveyard shift ended. I remember rocking up an 8-ball of coke and sitting in a circle with two buddies as we freebased all fucking night, anxiously waiting (fiending) until our turn came around. I remember driving back into Reno from the Fallon Naval Air Station peaking on LSD with six guys in my 1976 Chevy Nova.
There were good times.
There were bad times.
I can't lie.
It made me who I am and I wouldn't trade any of it. But, as I near 40 and somehow look back on the what-ifs of my life, I wonder who and what I could have become if I wasn't a partier, if I wasn't an alcoholic, if I wasn't a dope fiend.
Maybe that's the course I would have ridden down regardless, just at a different point in my life (I did get sober at 23).
It's funny how 17 years can seem both like one day and an eternity. I remember things I've done, places I've been during the party years.
But I also look at who I am today. He isn't that same guy.
He's a little less fun, more reserved and a lot heavier.
Getting sober made me grow up, the arrested development (and that's an accurate term of how my life's seemed to go) unleashed in a confusing array of love, marriage, the baby carriage and starting the single life over again.
I think often, lately especially, of who I am and where I've been. If I could have taken a different path - one less traveled, perhaps? Sadly, it's the nature vs. nurture question, and it's unanswerable.
I am who I am, and my world helped shape me.
So today, I will sit back, celebrate quietly and know where I am is because of where I've been.
And then turn my attention toward 40.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
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