Monday, December 15, 2014

About the Cowboys in December

Ramblings Post #277
Sport is visceral. You can apply with and wisdom to it, study it and dissect it, review and parse it out in the pieces which you imagine can be improved, but then you will miss the entire point. We feel sport. It can, for a distinct instant, focus the minds of millions on a single thought. Turn the meek into raging beasts. It is sport. And it is good.   


I have reached that point in the Cowboys season where my nerves get bad. Where I find myself yelling at the TV, wailing in agony at missed opportunities and sometimes turning the game off in frustration, only to turn it back on again a few minutes later and start the whole process over again. I can't eat, and definitely don't drink. It is something I am not proud of. It's why I prefer to watch the game alone, not even with other Cowboy fans.

And in the those situations where the Boys lose? I think by now even my mother has figured out to wait a few days before calling. And that the last few seasons have been marred by last game failures, I'm almost certain that my blood pressure could be fifteen to twenty points lower with a few more run calls.

So last night.

I'm supposed to have an earlier bedtime, so I'll use that as an excuse as to why I didn't watch the ending, but why I couldn't watch the start is another story.  I toyed around with the idea of actually watching the beginning, mildly superstitious and just a little scared of what might happen. This isn't the Cowboys of old, and by old I mean last season, but a new more balanced Cowboy attack. But still, after Thanksgiving I was wary. And I'm not one for excuses, extremely short week and immobile quarterback whatever.

So when I tuned in right before half and saw my Boys leading I was pleasantly surprised. And nervous enough to turn the TV right back off lest I jinx them. No, it makes no damn sense whatsoever, now shut up. And when I clicked the ESPN link...because I wasn't going to sit in the room with the TV and NOT watch, and saw that they were down, well, my heart sank.

I woke up this morning honestly, ready to read about how they couldn't quite pull it off. Oh, they'd get a drive in the closing minutes, start looking like world beaters, moving, grooving, flexing and all that, then just as the momentum was starting to peak, it would crumble. Think about the last three seasons before you wonder about my faith. 

But now, we just have to win out. Against an Indy team (sorry Sporty) that doesn't have much to play for and Washington team that with luck will play for a draft pick. And then the monkey that is the playoffs. I just need one win, but I'd prefer a SuperBowl.

Barkeep. You know what time it is.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Odd Quotes

Art from Mattahan
 "A soulmate is an ongoing connection with another individual that the soul picks up again in various times and places over lifetimes. We are attracted to another person at a soul level not because that person is our unique complement, but because by being with that individual, we are somehow provided with an impetus to become whole ourselves."
~ Edgar Cayce

Saturday, December 6, 2014

The New Chicken Plucking Factory

Ramblings Post #276
It is what it is, and it is what it's gonna be. The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, but sometimes the path leads to places you never thought you'd have to go. This is one of those stories. Or something like that. I forget, these early mornings are killing me. 

There is a very old saying: Know thyself and to thy ownself be true. In the past few years I've tried to
follow this advice, staying true to who I am and what my goals are, because I've found that attempting to make other people happy by pretending or just going along usually ends up with consequences and repercussions. For me, usually.

A few months ago, unsure of a number of things and having come to enjoy things like heat and food, I agreed to pluck some chickens. Not really pluck chickens, but you know what I mean. In my quest for a new career I knew there could be detours and tracks that might lead me off the beaten path, but I had hoped those could be minimized. Why? Because being true to myself I know I have a tendency to "get a little too into things" sometimes. I mean, I got so into my last chicken plucking job there was a stretch there I didn't take a vacation for five years. I might have a problem.

So here we go again.

It's a throwback gig, as in I've done work like this before, so being able to do it is not an issue. I'm worried about losing my focus on the big picture. You know, the one I worked all those nights after my last chicken plucking gig to get? Since I passed that last milestone I was hoping to turn my attention to detail and indomitable drive towards my new career exclusively...and I will....but just not now. Apparently.

The really weird part about the new gig is that management knows that I'm vastly overqualified for the position. More than one of the trainers and managers have mentioned that they "saw my resume", in that special tone of voice people get when they pretend they're trying to keep a secret. And it seems to have generated expectations that I will get most of the concepts on the first try.  Okay, I have gotten most of the concepts on the first try, but that's beside the point. It's off putting to some degree, but it's always nice to be able to walk into an office and get respect.

And originally this was to be my segue back to working full-time, because as old pros know that it takes time to get you mind and body back on the idea of constant work. There is in-shape, party-shape, and work-shape. I was in video game shape, which means my thumbs are real strong. That long climb up the stairs in the mornings got my calves looking right.

A lot of things in my life have started off as one thing or for one purpose and become something else. This cannot be one of them. If I intend to actually make the big picture work, then I'm going to have to get my mind right...before I get my mind right.

Barkeep, put that good bourbon on the bar. 

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Bucket List

Ramblings Post #275
First you gotta have a plan. A goal, a direction, a pathway, a notion of the destination. Populate it with milestones lest you get lost...or bored. Then start moving. Take a few minutes to enjoy the view and the journey. Don't be afraid to wander, but always get back to task in the end. And if you meet someone and it feels right, don't be afraid to make a new plan.

In Concert, boo-yah!
I have a bucket list. It's seventy five items long and I wrote it when I was in my early twenties I think. At least that's what the font looks like. 

More than a few of them seem silly now, the product of young mind who hadn't seen the world or really done anything. Others are strangely prescient of someone looking to experience all he could. Quite a few are existential. Some dangerous. And sadly, most of them are undone. This a sampling, I guess, of what I hope to achieve. I still got time. 

2. Publish a novel.

This one I'm closest to actually doing. My brother has published a collection of short stories that I still haven't read in their final form, but was privy to and occasional proofread for content before he put it out there. I on the other hand am determined to publish a novel...start, story arc, end. It need not be epic, or the great American story, but it needs to be complete. Like many things I get the impression that once I've finished the first one the others will be, well, the term easy is wrong, but just say less hard. I hope.

13. Learn to sail

Considering I'm not that big a fan of the water, that I actually want to learn to sail - or wanted to learn to sail at one time - is kind of amazing. Maybe it's that my life plan includes yachting, and I just don't want to get caught out there with no skills. I would blame it on my penchant for pirate movies, but this is way before my fascination with the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise. Still, want to sail.

31. Spend a week at the Smithsonian

I went to the Smithsonian as a child, and I remember getting there late and having to rush through the
exhibits. Back then I as enthralled by models - ship models, building models, etc, and I remember a few great ones flashing by. But this time when I go back, I want time. Lots of time, with like a little carry foot stool so if I spot something really good I can just sit down and gaze. And I figure the kind of attention I'm trying give could be squeezed into a week. Well, ten days really.

48. Be in concert

Now, I don't expect to play Wembley Stadium, or Radio City Music Hall, or even the County Fair, to be honest, but my goal is to be in concert somewhere, doing something. A comedy routine or actually learn an instrument I'm not sure, but true performance. Maybe I'll dance. I want to sell tickets, maybe golden tickets with holograms...maybe 20 and then have my show. Multimedia maybe. And One night only, like the Blues Brothers Rhythm and Blues Revue.

73. Drive across America

Not travel across America, DRIVE across America. And not one of those California turnaround empty highway at 3am doing praying the car stays in one piece situations either. I mean a long slow, meandering drive across the states, stopping at diners and dives, and roadside attractions and pulling over beside just gaze at the open countryside. The goal is to see America, not just pass it as I'm trying to get to my destination. Yes, it sounds old fashioned, but is that so wrong?

My advice? If you don't have a Bucket List, I suggest you make one. Let's just say that if I made one now, it would give me focus, if not clear out my thinking of all the trivial things and get my mind right for the future. What you feel you must do in this lifetime says a lot about you.

Barkeep, I don't have any drinks on my Bucket List I must try, so a sweet tea with lemon. Thanks.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Odd Quotes


One of the problems of being a dreamer, is that dreams rarely come true. One of the other problems with being a dreamer is that you just can't stop.
~ Me

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

A very good dog

Spice was a good dog.
She could run further than me. On a three mile run...well, run slash jog, um, slash walk and occasional stagger, she complained not at all, eager to get out in the sun. She was always happy to see me, and knew I was good for a spot right behind the ears rub. She had soulful eyes, that told a story and made one believe there was more to her than just a dog. I sat her more than few times, her and her friend and even when her master moved West, and then North, I had hoped to see her again. But, she was fifteen, which is up there in dog years.

Spice was good dog.