What I learned in 2023

This disappeared on me. And by that I mean that I was about 700 words in yesterday, had walked away to gather my thoughts for a few hours and when I came back my computer wouldn't respond, so without thinking about it I rebooted. Lost everything. In a sense kind of like last year. Not that I lost everything everything, I still have my computer and the things I did save, just not the new thoughts that had sprung forth, the progress I'd made. Because last year I had some losses and setbacks, just like everyone else, but I'd saved a lot, and as it turns out, sometimes I'm better on the second draft.

So I'm back. It's been a minute. A very long minute. This blog started, like so many other things in life, as one idea that slowly transformed into another. Short stories, screeds and philosophy, weird ideas, political takes, poetry and art appreciation. This had been a digital space to just see what fell out of my head, to make comments about life into that vast unknown ether - partially because I didn't think the people around me would appreciate them and I tend to not want bother people unless I have to. There were the occasional screams into the digital darkness, but maybe as I've gotten older I've changed. Well, I know I changed, I lost some weight, I read some stuff from some new sources, I've pared back the dumb stuff. Still indulging too much from time to time, but also realizing my knees ain't what they used to be (I pulled a hamstring taking off my pants the other day), and that two AM is not a good time to decide to start new projects. 

But around mid-year things got hectic. And a lot of things had to happen around the same time and since this was already something I was doing out of habit, this went to the back-burner. Then the closet, I guess, although the metaphor doesn't travel. I just lost this for minute. But then a lot of the things I really did intend to this year, that I actually did mean to focus on didn't get done either (duh.) Some because of my own mental machinations. Others because of things out of my control. Some things changed and because mortgage rates went up some stayed the same. But also fulfilled a few personal promises, and finally did some things I told myself I would do when I was fifteen, but kept making excuses to myself. Things came at me fast, more than once. But that's everyone and I like to believe I rolled with the punches and came up in not too terrible a position. When I think about it now, I've actually been pretty damned lucky in a sense. But that realization makes me wonder just how much longer this luck will hold.  

I still have a million scenes to the thousand stories dancing through my head, books I want to write but...I haven't really put pen to page since I stopped updating this. I need to get out of the house more, as the pandemic (and grey hair) turned me into a serious homebody, because I'm I need to grow my circle and my contacts. (Alternatively, all my stuff is in my house, so why leave?) I've lost weight but I need to lose more, and tone up a bit. Yeah baby, sexy dad body, although I have no kids, you know what I mean. But my new schedule is making the application of basic principles of self care in that regard harder than I expected. Because yes, exercise and health is self care. Important stuff. 

To start this new year, much like I've suggested every year I've offered suggestions - go do something. Seriously. Something you hadn't done. Something you've been meaning to do. I recently watched a video of a man just a little bit older than me realize that the window of life's opportunities was closing, and the list of regular things that he'd come to enjoy was soon going to lose a few items, and that things he really wanted to do might not possible soon. It was one of those odd throwaway moments that make you think when you weren't expecting it. I have maintained for years that I have more time, next week, next month, next season, next year. That may not be completely true. And some events this year put that into very real terms.

This past year I traveled. Not just the usual back to my hometown to see my parents, although that did become a major part of my year, or to the beach or something like that. No, this year I really traveled. Like clearing customs and stepping onto another continent traveled. In my youth I'd dreamed of getting away from that small town I grew up in and seeing the world. But my history had been when I had the time I didn't have the resources. And by the time I had gathered the resources I'd reached a opinion that work took precedence. Add in that I had never wanted to travel alone, I had wanted that mythical HER to be by my side. Just like it's not the food it's who you're eating it with, I'd developed the opinion that traveling was about the memories, and wanted my memories to make my heart sing. But that someone special part hasn't worked out for me like I'd hoped. She has her own plans. So last year when the opportunity came to go somewhere, I leapt at it anyway. And this year I'm going to do it again.

This year I take on new career challenges. I had been slowly building a career that I'd fallen into. I tend to get into what I'm doing, slowly building up momentum until the work becomes something else. That track, in keeping with the metaphor, got derailed this year. So again, I'm starting over. But starting over wiser, maybe more seasoned to how life is supposed to work. We'll see. But then again I realize that I'd taken that type of work because it was a quiet thing after a period of professional chaos. A quiet where I could focus and in that process I had let myself slip on so many levels. But I've always been professionally flexible and adapt quickly, and expect this new thing will push me to be better. And I need to be as good as I can be. Before I can't.  

Time is running out. This past year made it clear that my time and my luck won't last forever. And that I need to start chasing those dreams and doing those things I've been hesitating about, that I've been waiting for the right window of opportunity. I can't imagine how many variations on my future I've let die on the vine waiting for things I didn't have the audacity to begin. So as someone who has spent far too long getting ready for things to come, I need you to go out tonight and eat at that place you've thought about. Tell your loved ones they matter. Plan that trip. Start your journal, your side business, your religious awakening, your charity, your DYI project, your spaceship, your home brew, your exercise routine, to learn to cook, to learn a new language, to dance, to start walking, to mentor, go dancing, go camping, go the chili cook-off, join an improv group or try out for the national curling team. Just go do something, time is not your friend.

So that's what I learned in 2023. Go forth and do.

I need a break...

Ramblings Post #407
Where will you be when you get where you're going? This was a question asked by an old country comedian Jerry Clower. It's one of those things what with his accent just sounded funny, but is more a question that makes you question yourself. We wake, wash, work and waste away in this funny little thing called life. Do we know where we're going? Will we even know when we get there? And how much to get in? 

So yesterday I took a sleep.

I had my usual day. I'm ranching from the house, so I logged in early and got started. My breakfast was a pair of sausage biscuits. Not the big ones like fast food places make, but this little one I found that you can microwave. Now I take them out of the package and quick fry them and put them back in the bun because I'm extra. And with the right seasoning and a bacon press they taste like the sausage biscuits from this little spot in my home town. But I digress. And lunch was a salad, my now usual at least four times a week. Ruff-agê!

After work I was a little tired. Okay, a lot tired, I started nodding off in front of the computer while I was playing games instead of actually working on something towards self improvement or something that might make me some money. It's been that kinda season. Ugh. But I was down bad. I'd grabbed a small bowl of Crunchy Cheez Doodles to tide me over until dinner, which was supposed to be chicken curry, but I wasn't going to make it. So I figured, a quick thirty minute nap. I put the iPad on some light jazz, crawled on the couch and pulled up the throw. It was about a quarter after Seven.

So at when I awoke at One AM I was a wee bit confused.

Okay, no, I haven't been getting a solid eight hours lately. One rabbit hole after another on the internet, dumb games, etc., AND no I hadn't been eating right lately, you leave the house to run an errand and the burgers start calling my name. So too much red meat, not enough fish and chicken, and too much sugar because red velvet cupcakes are from hell. I've been pushing it lately not achieving. So maybe I just needed it.

Still. Damn. Hell of a nap.

Barkeep. Tall glass of ice water. I got gaming to catch up on! Okay fine, some work. Ugh. 

MLK - some thoughts.

 He walked so you could run.

Or rather he marched. Which if you've ever done it for political reasons really is walking, along with thousands of others, to show your support for a particular cause or ideal. Which I have done on occasion. It's a interesting sensation, realizing that that idea that you hold in your head is shared by so many others. It's validating. Empowering. Inspiring.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., boy genius who went to college at fifteen, who won the Nobel Peace Prize before he was forty, whose oration still rings in the ears of anyone who has ever heard it - live or on tape. In an age before the internet, his name was known far and wide. Not for music or film, but for a drive for justice for those people oppressed by a system for which they had been forced to build the foundation. For organizing and guiding marches, sit-ins and protests. And that oration. He was a remarkable person in age where remarkable people were in short supply.

In his last speech, the iconic "I've Been to the Mountaintop," he compared himself to Moses, in that he would look upon the promised land, but would not live to get there. He had hoped to live a long life, but he wasn't worried about that, he had a people to save. The very next day he was killed.

And still, all these years later, we have not reached the promised land.

He walked so you could run.

He walked so you could run. For Congress. For Senate. For School Board. Own a business. Purchase a home fairly. For President. To be able to have a fair shot at building something for a legacy, for your children, for the future. So put your sneakers on. And run until your legs give out. The promised land awaits.

Black Art - A Mood

Ramblings Post #389
I like art, in all it's forms. From the small pieces, the large pieces, the graffiti, the abstract, the classical, the experimental. Music, sculpture, paint, writing, landscaping, culinary (yes, they're art!) and all the rest. My life is my mind, my imagination, and art is the key to the forces that shape it, that help me to interpret the world around me. Everything in my life is shaped by, oddly, everything else in life. And one day I hope to affect the world around me.

By Dwayne Jones

Digital Artist. Yes, because it's the finished project, not what he started with. I like this for the colors. It brightens up a face so often clouded by the world around it, but still allows enough of it through for the resolute attitude to display.  

theartofka2ra

I like her eye. The work has a soft feature, that feels more like a vibrant cartoon, which allows the viewer to assume certain things. I think of this character as smart, funny, and health conscious. She feels like a vegetarian, not a vegan, who works out at home because she took a spin class and didn't feel like paying $65 to sit in a room and pretend to ride a bike...and get yelled at. In simpler terms, the artist while not getting into details, has created a story from an image. 

By Arinze Stanley - Machine Man #6

And now this guy. This is NOT an photo. This is a drawing, Charcoal and graphite on paper. This guy's talent is absolutely amazing. The level of detail. The way he is able to capture the tiniest nuance. I hope he charges a grip. When I first found him he was just getting hot, and now he's doing actual shows. And I hope to be able to give him full price for his ability one day. 

I want to spend a day with art. 

Barkeep. A tall water. Seriously. I really haven't hydrated today, and I know I should everyday, and so drinking at this point would be just bad. Why don't you think I'm serious? I forgot.

Black Art - A Vibe

Ramblings Post #387
This pandemic has brought out the best and worst of us. I've tackled projects I hadn't thought I would have time for, and woefully procrastinated on others as though I was doing something else. At heart, I'm an artist. I have two or three tools designed to make music, and the small pieces I've produced people have liked but are finally shelved. I'm still writing, short pieces when an idea moves me and slowly but surely through this second draft I'm working on. And years and years ago I used to draw. I one day hope to paint. I will one day have a show...an art show, a concert, a re-enactment of a scene I wrote. I will, it's on my bucket list. 

By Elie.A.Arts

I like this piece. Simple but elegant. The crown upon her head, the eyes wide open and full of curiosity. This is one of his more stylized pieces, his work generally runs a less particular. Unless his model really had such inviting eyes. 

By Curtis Newkirk Jr.

The focus has a regal look, even as he is adorned simply. I like the feeling of it, the fruit giving the portrait a light feel, but does not detract from the intensity of the subjects gaze. 

Heritage III - By Jeff Manning

We should all have something by Jeff Manning on our wall. His pieces are just a wonderful mix of style and color. The models take on new aspects under his hand. If I can work out this year right I may give out his stuff for the holidays.

I'm putting visiting another art show on my list of things to do once the pandemic is over. But man that's getting to be a long list. 

Barkeep, and by that I mean me, make me a bourbon and coke. Wild Turkey if you got it, and I know you do.

What I learned - Last Year

"We made it."

Sporty texted that to me about ten minutes after midnight. Last year that wouldn't have been a statement that meant the same thing. Even as I've gotten older and found that father time is an old tricky bastard who steadily robs us of fashion sense, vitality, and older relatives, the term "we made it" still wouldn't have had the same resonance twelve months ago. Because after the year that was last year the simple concept of getting here is still something a lot of us can't comprehend. 

If all you did last year was make it to this year, I'm proud of you. 

Last year this onslaught of a decade of events stuffed into twelve short blurry months stripped away the last of the veneer of the differences between who we are and who we say we are. It showed a lot us who we really are, like down deep. Because under normal circumstances we all like to adjust and tinker with the picture that we show the world. Not necessarily fix it, but gloss over or touch up our faults and flaws, putting a little dab of color on those ugly spots on the canvas that make up the whole of us. Most of the time we get away with it. Last year changed that. We were confronted by nature, from fires raging across Australia to pandemic that shut down whole countries. We were confronted by injustice, as the hypocrisy and violence that happens in the shadows came to video for eight minutes and forty-six seconds and woman died in her sleep because someone lied. We were confronted with inherent biases, arrogance and stupidity as we waged a war of ideas for the future of this country. I barely even remember the murder hornets. We were confronted and had to own up to who we really were.

As it turns out, stripped down to the barest of who are there are entirely too many of us that can't discern the difference between a want and a need. We need groceries. We want our nails done. I enjoy a night out as much as the next person, but an evening of drinks and dancing just isn't prudent right now. I love sports, but not if it means the end of careers in a season that will be remembered as meaningless. Too many of us can't handle the math of large numbers and still think of this pandemic as binary, as either life or death, when the truth is that the large grey area in the middle we're ignoring are organ damage that may never heal. Too many of us have been unable to learn from the mistakes of others, and only see the light once we've met the virus up close. And finally many of us have had to realize that talk is cheap if we're not doing what we said we're doing. And sometimes even when we are doing what we said we're doing. We supposedly care about others, but then it turns out some of us really don't if we won't do the minimum to help them. 

We also desperately need to believe that it's all behind us with the passing into the new year. But much like the national lines, state lines and county lines this virus ignores the calendar just like a short handed manager. Nobody knows how much longer until this is over, maybe weeks, or maybe we have a long way to go. Yes, we're all tired and frustrated, weary of the stories of death just over the hill or around the corner. But I don't need to see a dead body or find out how a ventilator works to be convinced. And I'm really hoping this is the start of the fourth quarter, not the end of the first half. 

You'll note, I haven't called that year by name anywhere in here. 

So what do I ask of you this year? The same as last year. The same as every year. To go and do something different. I know that last year forced a lot of us do just that by default. Work from home. Spend more time with our family. Explore new skills and hobbies if only to end the boredom. We've either built new bonds or torn down those false structures we'd come to hang our hats on. Life is funny like that. I started online Spanish Lessons this year. (Started...I'm still a novice, please to embarrass me.) And I've halfway explored a number of new dishes, read a couple books I regret, explored some new avenues of thought, started the second draft of one of the many novels I promised myself I would finish. We have time. I'm hoping I'm late with this advice. So go plant the garden, make the pie from the internet, read that book you swore you'd read, start your podcast, call your old college roommate, start walking, take on online class, renew your vows in the backyard in front of the dog. This pandemic thing isn't over yet. And with any luck we'll never get back to normal, but instead emerge into something new, better and more equitable going forward. 

Now, this year is more existential than normal. I live alone, and there were days this year where I didn't leave the house for two and a half weeks at a time. I've had a lot of conversations in my head. There have also been the occasional dance number and private concert, don't judge me. So the question here is, what have I learned...from inside my own head? 

There is no time like now. 

Win, lose or draw, success or failure, big money or snake eyes. Now is the time. 

Every contact counts. 

Living alone means every text, every zoom, every little bit of another person is a lot. Thank you. 

I would really like a hug. 

The things that we miss that we didn't realize we'd miss. There is a difference between an in-person conversation and and zoom. 

Reality is becoming less a thing. 

Far too often as of late our own little interpretation to suit our own ends and satisfy our own souls are replacing the actual facts. These little bubbles we've built are the next great cultural war. 

Cooking means cleaning. 

I have come to dislike building a meal from scratch, because it will involve cleaning everything I used. This wasn't so bad when I ate out a lot, but at one point I was cooking every meal.

Television is overrated. 

I have probably watched less television this year than any other. The medium just doesn't feel the same anymore. Too passive. Books and open ended video games. 

Lying to yourself is more harmful than having someone else lie to you. 

You know the truth and chose to act like it wasn't. Because reasons. It's self defeating. 

Fears are limits we gave ourselves. 

I have fears. Some big, some little, but all mine. And it's my responsibility to face those fears. Because that lying to myself does not work. 

Opportunity doesn't come with a bow. 

We asked the universe for more time for important things, with family, to focus on ourselves, to rest. And it came. Wasn't quite what you were expecting, eh? 

Commitment is key. 

If we agree to do something, then we do it until it is finished. That's not a hard concept. 

Consistency makes things easier. 

For those things we are committed to, we must engage them regularly, consistently, habitually, until they are done. 

Love. 

Because it's always been about love. Every damn time.

Juneteenth

I'm not going to sit here and tell you I've celebrated Juneteenth as man and boy. I didn't even really hear about it until college. And it was only because I went to summer school (to avoid going home for the summers) that I was able celebrate it with some guys from Texas, really more as an excuse to put something on the grill than anything else. That it isn't taught in the mainstream curriculum at any level is almost a crime. Or more precisely, typical of the current state of affairs.

And although we would be sold out to end the emancipation of Reconstruction after the Civil War,  and would endure the brutality of Jim Crow, the clear disparities of the hypocritical policy of  "separate but equal" and finally just raw discrimination, this day means something.

So, we can start with a federal holiday. But that is just a start. Understand.

Barkeep. A glass of that Uncle Nearest. Neat. And a fine cigar.

Something to calm the nerves, or inflame the spirit

Ramblings Post #382
Sometimes you just need to stop and take a moment. We live in interesting times. Or rather what we hope is the beginning of an interesting period in history. Where massive change, for what we hope is the better, is upon us. But even in the heat of battle one must rest. Clear the mind before marching back into the fray. 

I like black art. Or just art that showcases black people. That shows them as whole souls, as masters of the own futures, as pained by the dark parts of inhumanity, as people and not things, props, fetishes or less than.

Planes by @stylesosunde

stylesosunde.com

Champ by @frankmorrison

www.morrisongraphics.com

Loud and Clear by Tim Okamura

Mask On by Nile Livingston

nilelivingston.com

The story will be told. We will use those words, those colors, those images, that music, that thing we best feel expresses ourselves and we will tale you who we are. The story will be told.

Barkeep, a martini. Let a little vermouth sit at the bottom, don't just swish. One olive, no toothpick.

What I learned 2019

Life is what you make it.

Ten years ago I did not expect to be where I am today. But then that's not an unusual statement. Ten years is a long time to try to make a prediction. And any one five minute period along the way can drastically alter the path you thought you were on. Our decisions combined with the outside forces influencing the social constructs that are our lives make predicting the multiples upon multiples of possible outcomes almost impossible. As such to survive we have to develop an outlook that includes the future and the now. To learn to plan but still live in the moment. To extend our reach beyond our vision into the ether while still holding on to the solid. Or...just to close our eyes and leap. 

That last can be interpreted as fearlessness. Or recklessness. When it's successful, we remember it as a much more reassuring concept of confidence. Framing is everything.

That's the key, that 'framing.' We all like to re-assess our lives in the best light. It's nearly a survival mechanism. Sometimes when things don't go right it's that framing that allows us to find the flaws and start over. But it is the improper use of that frame to shape the idea "that life is what you make it" allows us to wallow in our own failures.  Or lie stagnant when we need to move forward.

Early last year I was eating healthy, getting my steps in, reading more, writing more, and planning for future advancement in my career. Got started on that necessary internal work that a lot of us avoid using attitude, alcohol and materialism. But I finished last year falling back into old habits, diet terrible and hours lost to pointless activity and professional procrastination.

I try to frame it as "I deserved a break." This is a lie.

This is not to say taking a break is bad. I once went five years without using a vacation day, which is the say the least objectively terrible, so I'm all in favor of the off day here or there for personal reasons, even if the reason is the sleep in. Which may be why I've framed this period this way. This is a break after a long period of labor, this time four years. The problem is it shouldn't be this. It should be I need to get on the stick, that I've been slacking and I need to tighten up.

Maybe it was the milestone of middle age that got me. I have reached an age I always thought of as far off, where things change, supposedly. It's the middle of middle age. I thought I had more time. I like to believe I have so much further to go, so much more to accomplish. I'm not talking about the dreams of youth, but the ideas of just that space of ten years ago. And I'm concerned that I'm not there yet.

But I'm not going to re-frame it.

As much as that framing of our situations to see the better of them is necessary, what is also required and more often neglected is the need to take a long hard look at ourselves and then admitting to ourselves what is really there. Not a comparison to the glory shots of social media, but a very real assessment of a our real selves, by ourselves. We know when we're eating too much sugar, or haven't exercised in a week, or have started procrastinating. We just have to be honest with ourselves.

So this year, be honest with yourself. As we used to say, "if you scared, say you scared." Many of us have 'framing' down to an art form. Anti-social is being 'tired of the fake', a lack of tact as 'just being honest' or whatever other fiction gets you through the day. That mixed with brazen unearned self confidence can make those ten years seem like nothing. Because if you have no impetus to change, be it repair or just to improve yourself, then there is a strong chance you're in the same place you started, only the time will have passed. And you won't end up where you expected to be for other reasons.

Things I've learned 

Things change. All things change, even if it's just everything around it changing.

If you don't actually start, then your dreams will always just be dreams.

If you truly love someone, it's really all about them more often than you'd like to admit.

Exercise everyday. Create habits that work for you.

Get enough sleep.

Just because you're prepared doesn't mean you're ready. 

Stop trying to make the first draft perfect.

Cell phone games should be illegal.

Procrastination is still bad. Do it now and get on to whatever comes next.

Love your people. Because as we get older they get older.

Eat to live, not the other way around. Diet fixes so many other issues.

Bacon is better in smaller portions (I keep telling myself this, but still...)

Treat yourself from time to time. Be it a day off or a nice thing.

Five minutes watching Watchmen

I don't watch a lot of movies because I didn't have a lot of time. A lot of movies and television of late have become more niche oriented and horrible, I'm trying to write this sequel to a first book I haven't even published and I have a ton of video games I bought on sale I still want to play so there. So, I watch a movie or a little TV when I get a chance.  You know, I guess I really don't watch a lot of movies or television. Go figure.

I watched the Watchmen

I didn't read Watchmen until sometime in the 90's, when it was a graphic novel. I had always been more Marvel than DC, so it didn't seem immediately pressing even after the rave reviews. But while the book was a revelation to some, to me it was in line with my take on earlier titles like Howard Chakyin's American Flagg. But Chakyin was just a touch futuristic, on the other hand Watchmen explored the idea of superheroes not as they would appear in a comic universe, but more in line with our in that moment real lives: Less black and white issues, more murky goings on and ambiguity in the characters and their motivations. It was a refreshing read in a era of majestic heroism, a turn from that lofty iteration alongside the legendary Frank Miller's Batman: Dark Knight. It was simply heroes deconstructed.

The movie, by contrast, was a pale re-imagining. While it was visually exciting, it was missing something. I now want to attribute that to the brevity of the medium. Time constraints force editing, and editing is in the hands of of those who lack the proper respect for the source an axe and not a scalpel.

By contrast the television series, an extension of the book more than the movie, is everything the cinematic had hoped to be and more. Well written, well paced with nine hours to produce truly fantastic performances. Here it is not simply heroes deconstructed but the deconstruction itself torn down. It is a well crafted tale that almost insists on a revisit if only to catch the pieces you missed with each passing episode. From a genre crafted for the white teenage male gaze it posited a black female lead, visited upon historical black trauma, flipped our understanding of this universe's heroic history, made the cool agent a seasoned woman and made us question that most basic of understanding of superheroes: with great power comes great responsibility.

Note: Spoilers abound from here forward.

The only other show with so many callbacks that I can think of is the first season of Westworld. The first episode of Watchman started tossing out clues and they just never stopped. We all just assumed that the Ozymandias timeline was happening at the same time, although the statue in Lady Trieu's garden should have been a dead giveaway. The big deal about the squid drops that kept popping up. The eggs. The mesmerizing from the Black Hood origin swung back around to a tool for retribution at the beginning. From the goings on at the Seventh Calvary ranch in the first episode to super cool FBI Laurie's change of heart in Antarctica at the end to the ambiguous Sopranos style ending, the story was an intricately diagrammed little journey that just kept linking this idea to that idea over and over.

And nobody, not a god soul, noticed Cal was Dr. Manhattan.

This was good television. This year HBO has been fire, with Chernobyl and now Watchmen. I don't even really miss Westworld at this point which honestly in its second season felt like it was trying too hard. This series that was maligned by some for having white supremacists as the villains and discussions of reparations really hit a lot of good notes. For all the power that Dr. Manhattan possessed, why didn't he do more? But then it could also be asked, why should he?

They claim there might be a second season, which is both exciting and disappointing. The sophomore slump is real. I hope we get lucky. Again.

Barkeep. Something with some squid in it. I'm joking. No, I am telling a joke. Do not make me anything with a ...Dr. pepper. Plain. 

They're playing basketball....

Ramblings Post #377

This post should be about the impeachment "inquiry", but it's not. This should be about the latest goings on at the Ranch, but it's not. This should be about my terrible diet as of late, but it's not. This should be about why I haven't posted in a month, but it's not. This should be about what TV shows I'm watching and my take on them, but it's not. This should be about the Cowboys - who are still going to win the Superbowl - but it's not. This should be about Sporty, but it's not. This should be about gearing up for a write my ass off this November, this time for sure, but it's not. So, what is it about? The WNBA. Why? Because. 

I watched part of a game of the WNBA championship last week. I was flipping through some channels and came across it, and sadly, like it was a meeting of high scoring Division III rivals. It promised to be exciting, but only if you were aware it was happening. That I was not aware, or that it didn't seem to be a prime time event was also clear. But many years past, in the long long ago, my high school girls basketball team won the state championship and the school had buses to the games and everything. Those ladies could ball, I kid you not, and that game was exciting. So, in memory of them I sat down and watched for a while. 

First, is the camera angle different in the WNBA, or are the fellas just that much bigger? When I watch an NBA game, which I do from time to time, the players seem proportional to the court. It's more than likely that it's because I'm used to how it looks. The men's game looks familiar. By contrast, watching the women play the court looked huge if not enormous. It felt as though they'd stuck an extra five feet on both sides and along the length. And the angles of the shots seemed deeper, as though the camera was positioned higher up, or maybe off to the side of where I normally expected it to be. Or maybe it's just that most NBA players are 6' 4" and up and the WNBA players are (mostly) six inches or more shorter.  

Then there is the actual game-play. And it could be just me again, but I think the NBA includes more isolation basketball. Now, while the three ball has migrated to the WNBA (and college, and high school and the mini basket on the trash can), that superstar single match-up game doesn't seem to have made the trip. Or it could have been the cameras. The women seem to have much more perimeter passing, less pick and roll and way less clear outs. Or maybe it just looked that way because of all the up and under layups. I mean, because the rim is still 10' I expected an increase in the number of layups, but there was much less jump shooting than I imagined. I was expecting sharpshooters, but the only time anyone consistently took a jumper was from three point land.

Other than those two things it was  just like I remembered. Dives to the floor, blocks, fast breaks and lots of hustling. Just "plain ole good ass we-in-it-to-win-it basketball. But it just felt different.     

Again, it's not that I've never seen women play sports before. Girls high school team won state champs, were more popular than the boys team. I used to watch Sporty play women's tackle football - full pads, full speed. So it's not that.

Or is it?

I need to think on this. Barkeep, can I get a lemon drop. Yes, I said a lemon drop. What's wrong with that?

If you come for the King....

Ramblings Post #375
This week I'm your correspondent from here at the front lines of America's most important battle this week. On Twitter. Over Chicken Sandwiches. Hey, everything doesn't have to be that serious. I could be arguing over grass or AstroTurf. Or the whole Jay-Z and Kapernick thing. But sometimes you need to have a little fun. Or at least not as serious. Not the same thing. 

It was supposed to be a salad day.

As part of my personal betterment program I have salads for lunch at least twice a week, usually on Monday to get the week started right and another day along the way. I find the roughage surprisingly refreshing for some reason.  And although I love beef, I also have cut back the red meat to twice a week just because it stays in my system so long but that's whole other story. I generally try to limit not only my total intake, but also try to cut back on excessive fried foods and the like. All my pants feel lose now, and I working notches down on the old belt.

Right around the ranch there are a host of sit down lunch, pizza, sandwich, Mexican, Chinese, and other ethnic options within in easy strolling distance. A lunch costing between $10-15 is the usual. And parking is funny, so I try to limit my off the grounds trips. About two or three times a month, provided the joint isn't too crowded - which is never - I venture over to the Chick-fl-a for lunch and get a sandwich or more regularly the nuggets to keep the bread intake down. I still see it as a treat, as my hometown was too small to support one and so I didn't even discover them until college. But that there is what you call good eating. But also about once a month or so I will also venture to Popeye's, but only for dinner. They're very good, but if you've ever been in a Popeye's you know what it is. I try to keep both of them far back in the rotation. But since we're now apparently in the midst of a chicken sandwich war, I decided before I pick sides I needed to get that intel. 

That's right... war. Over chicken sandwiches. Of course on Twitter. I read the back and forth and chuckled.

I ran a couple errands, swung by Popeye's and got a sandwich combo and headed back to the south forty to eat in peace. I got back to my spot, got my um, "charges arranged" and unpacked lunch. First, the Popeye's sandwich is bigger. The number one at Chick-fil-a always seems smushed a bit when you get it, but it's still a good eat. A small white bread bun, take the pickles off, add in a dab of mustard and some mayo and it's a good chicken sandwich. The sandwich from Popeye's by contrast is on a nice toasted Brioche bun, the pickles looked thicker, even though I took them off, and no need for mayo or mustard as it comes with sauce. It just looks better. BUT, how it looks is not how it tastes. I dug in.

Damn. I mean damn.

Chick-fl-a got trouble coming. Wendy's and BK might need to head for the showers. I didn't think I would ever refer to having a chicken sandwich as a "religious experience" but here we are. I had to put the sandwich down twice to stop from eating it too fast. It was juicy, spicy (but I got the spicy), the toasted bread set it off just right, I don't know what that sauce was but damn. Popeye's may have come to the chicken sandwich party late, but party didn't start until they walked in. Now, let's be upfront here, the fries at Popeye's are horrible, and the service is not for the impatient or faint of heart.

But this sandwich just might be worth it.

I can't go back. it's like I know I like sweet stuff so I limit myself intentionally. Bruh. I would overdose on these.

Barkeep. You got any good cognac back there? 

We not even gonna wait for the season to start?

Ramblings Post #374
This long dreary season is almost over. No, not summer. It's been Africa hot this summer. Swing low sweet chariot negro spiritual hot in this piece. It's been a lot things this summer, and although long and dreary both apply, the season ain't the topic. No, I mean the NOT Football Season part of the year. Yes, in the southern US it's either Football season or it ain't. Everything else is semantics. So here we go again, and thank God someone is happy.

I almost like the Cowboys don't love me back....

First Zeke decides he needs an extension, or to re-negotiate, or be blessed or whatever, with two whole years left on his deal. Look I'm all for a player getting paid, but I'm also one in favor of fulfilling your obligations that you willingly agreed to. A year left might be okay to sidle back over to the table if you're looking for peace of mind, but two years just feels wrong.

And then Dak. *Really heavy...really really heavy...sigh*

Him. He's the someone happy. For now.

Look, let's be honest. Dak has been underpaid plain and simple. He was drafted as a placeholder/project with the commensurate deal (less than 700k per season) but due to a couple of injuries got an opportunity to shine and just went buck. It's the American dream honestly. He has lead his team to division wins two of the last three seasons, only the magic of Aaron Rodgers kept them out of an NFC championship game, and his numbers have been favorably comparable to guys who are considered the game's elite. All that while playing in an unimaginative offense and without a primary receiver for half a season or his top-tier running back for another. Now truth be told I think he benefited greatly his first year from having Romo in his ear, but that he's been able to keep most of going on his own since then is just incredible. And this season with a more creative coordinator I want to believe he might be going to back to a form closer to that of his rookie year. So he deserves a serious raise at this point. But it seems like he's trying to make them pay for what they did the Cold Crush.

Is he worth twenty million? Yes. Is he worth thirty? I can see it, but I'd need to dig into his numbers to justify it. Is he worth Forty Million American Dollars per season? He's still just playing the one position, right?

Look, I understand negotiation, they go low, you go high and then ya'll meet in the middle - so on that side of the table it behooves one to set the anchor as far up as you can. Makes sense, moves the numbers to your benefit. But this ain't the no-cap MLB or the Bird exception-SuperMax NBA, this is the "yeah, we're gonna need our playbook back" NFL. And in the NFL as it turns out sometimes the difference in a Superbowl season and a rebuilding year is the second string linebacker or reserve guard. Depth is the key, and that's hard as hell to achieve with a fifty three man roster when you're forced to put 30% of the payroll on a single person.    

I'm in favor of the man getting his money, but I'm of the opinion he (and his agent) need to look at the larger picture - Career and Money-wise.

On the career side, I think he needs to bet on the team and dial back his expectations so they can get and keep the talent in place around him. A great quarterback can only be great if the receivers catch the ball, and the half season between Dez and Amari should make that clear. They need a second and nice outlet receiver to complement their primary to keep the defense guessing. They also need a stout offensive line and of course Zeke, the engine that makes everything else work. All that costs money, and we've still got the whole defensive side to go. This team potentially has NFC East champ written all over it. I can even legitimately suggest Superbowl. If they can hold it together.

Money-wise, Dak already has some endorsements, and the addition of a Superbowl ring (or even an appearance) only makes those deals more lucrative to the interested parties. And that's where the real money lies if you're paying attention. Jordan hasn't played a game in decades but is still a marketable figure. Manning doesn't suit on Sundays but is still selling insurance because he has rings. Winning makes the big endorsement deals possible. And winning is a product of the efforts of the whole team.

Yes, it's a gamble, betting his future on the team's success. And not a particularly good one either. The NFL season is unforgiving and can be made or destroyed in the blink of an eye by forces you never even saw coming. You could run into another team on a hot streak and get demoralized early, a first string corner is hobbled and the pass defense goes to shit, an opposing defense discovers a weakness you didn't even realize you had, your mojo decides not to buy a season ticket, etc.. I fully understand the get your money idea. 

But I'm a fan. A die-hard fan. And it's been a long time since there was joy in Mudville. Er, I mean Dallas.

Barkeep. Just a beer. I'm tired.   
 

I am my own worst enemy

Ramblings Post #370
I don't do as many personal posts anymore. I don't do a lot of things I used to do. My legend reads that my intent was to approach middle age with "a shotgun and bad intentions," but I now I think that me and middle age can sit down and talk about it, preferably over a drink or two. I have purposely made this blog rather banal; television & movie reviews and other inane rantings. There was a time when this was like therapy. Back before people asked for your website information on your job application. Hey, what I do on my time is my business. Mostly.

I am my own overthinking.

One of my terrible habits in my personal life is the way that I overthink an issue, teasing out possibility after possibility until the only course that makes sense is to figure out how to build a time machine because the moment has passed. Now, in a business setting I can assess what is front me and execute with confidence, ready to make changes, adjustments and refinements as need be as the results of my decision unfolds. This willingness to commit has value, it could actually be considered a skill, and it was one of the reasons I did well at a particular "ranch" for quite a long time. The difference between personal and professional is stark and actually quite weird, at least from the inside.

Which brings me to my current dilemma caused by overthinking: I'm thinking maybe I'd go visit someone. Or rather, I'm trying to figure out what would be a good time to visit someone. No, what I'm really trying to do is ask to see if my visiting someone would be cool with them. Well, I'm kind of wondering if that's a good idea...

..... four hours later....

...at the bottom of all this I want to find out if something that was there, is still there. And if it's mutual. To see what's what and who is whom. See my good-ass English, eh?No, the truth of the matter is I know the old proverb: The journey of thousand miles starts with a single step. But then I'm also smart enough to realize even a walk to the mailbox starts with a single step. Or the kitchen. You can't tell with that first step. And there-in lies the rub. How many steps do get? A marathon or a far enough to get a bag of chips from the cupboard?

In my personal pursuits, I'm classic overthinker. Anyone of the many novels I'm trying to work through has a slew of notes chock full of information about back stories and side pursuits that don't even go into the story. Some that only serve to mentally flesh out tertiary characters who might only pop up for one scene. And those side stories also need to make sense. Otherwise none of it does. But then that's a situation where there is no real clock, no looming deadline. Tinkering is a thing. But with the clocking ticking I execute. Hmmmm...

So, what's this all about? I would like to go and see Sporty. Yes, that Sporty. From the before time, the long, long ago. I would like to have a nice dinner or something, face to face, or really any where we can sit and talk. Or maybe go to a play or catch some live jazz then sit and talk over a few drinks. Yes, that is exactly what it sounds like: A date. That's it, that's all. And yes, I would travel just for a date if she said she was with it. You ever encounter someone with whom everything feels comfortable, natural, magical? For me, that's her. Or at least it used to be.

Am I hanging onto a memory? Yes, very much so, one that I would prefer not to spoil if possible. And I'm probably only remembering the good parts too, but it's a great set of memories. And it would be nice to do that again. But one of the grand issues of overthinking..and personal empathy... is looking at the situation from the other person's point of view.  In reality, it's been a long time since she and I shared the same air, and although we text each other regularly, digital versus live is a real gulf. Who am I to her? I'm certain that she's charted her own path and is doing her own thing. So who would I be? I'm not even sure what I'm hoping for on the other side of this. Sigh.

If this were a work situation, I'd make a decision based upon the available information and then go from there. So why can't I do that in personal life?

(Part of me remembers when she used to read this and I would have posted this hoping to avoid the question, a clear passive-aggressive act on my part that I should be past at my age. Now I'm fairly certain nobody reads this anymore as I'm too infrequent.)

My only choice is to ask the question. The one I've been rolling over in my head - make funny? Imply something? Be vague? Be direct? etc., - for the past two weeks. Yes, I still put a lot of thought into her. And I need to do have this conversation soon, because as I said...she charts her own path.

It's who I am. An overthinker.

Barkeep. Why are there five beers on the...Thinker, I said THINKER. Well, leave'em. They're already out. 

Wanderation.

Ramblings Post #358
Wander. Don't let the road hold you for it is the path most traveled. Venture. Go forth into the hills and woods where the path is untrod. Past the brush and the streams and see what is really out there. You may even find a new destination.

 

Well that was interesting.

I'm revisiting this medium, because reasons. Okay, that is one thing I do like about this next generation, 'because reasons' is a bonafide answer to a question. Pointed, weirdly definitive but also properly vague. Because reasons.

I'll admit I cheated on this blog with Tumblr. That was a exercise in simplicity. Instead of fully expressive cogent sentences that forced me to think and put my thoughts into a coherent order, you could and were actually encouraged to just click a button or three and copy someone else's thoughts or ideas or pretty pictures and assume them as your own. It was easy but unfulfilling. Lots of great content out there, but it's just digitally window shopping life. No, it's just digitally window shopping other people's comments about life. Ugh. I did occasionally add the small thought to someone else's picture, a bit of philosophy if you will, but those additions were few and far between. Tumblr is, well, was an interesting place. From the mundane to the extreme. But I'm fairly certain that policy changes are going to drive away a bulk of their user-base. It's like they'd never heard of Pintrest.

That is about it.

It's winter, and it's cold and I don't like it. But I hate heating bills in the hundreds of dollars even more. Aargh.

Barkeep. Warm cider. With a lil' taste in it. You know. 

I coulda been a ...Kingpin!

Ramblings Post #355
I made a big deal about getting back to writing, at least on here, then I just kinda whiffed. I'm still not writing enough of anything , shorts, poetry, etc, and with the big one coming up at the end of the month I'm still not quite there. I have stories I've been meaning to write and I have been using this as an excuse to write them, but this year feels different. To many things in flux I guess.

So let's see how many half finished posts I have that I can't get done right now: Construction near office causes professional fatigue, bad television show critique, political post that got trampled by current events, other bad television show critique, other political post and more trampling, middle age rant about traffic, middle aged rant about cleaning my house, book planning for November writing frenzy, and office bowling teams.

That last one: Office bowling teams. Yeah, I signed up for the bowling team because at work ( i.e., the Ranch) I can spend hours not speaking to anyone. Because of the nature of what I actually do, It is possible to go in, ride herd and stack hay and not have an actual conversation with a live person until mid-afternoon. My fellow cattlehands have embraced the headphone lifestyle, rocking out all day oblivious to the goings on around us, and that combined with a series of rolling meeting schedules that mean its not uncommon to look up and me be the only ranch hand I see on these particular forty acres. So in an effort to be sociable, I signed up for an office bowling league team.

I need to have my head examined.

I signed up as an alternate, so that what I should have been able to do was show up and have a beer or two while cheering the rest of my team on. You know, just being sociable. No fuss, no muss. They even threw in a free T-shirt for my trouble. So, planning to breeze in late and leave early because I actually had another stop or two to make, your boy slid through for a quick meet and mingle with the "other farmhands." Have some laughs, drink a bit, knock the kinks out of the old social mojo, that sort of thing. 

I got roped into playing as the inaugural event had a sparse showing. But I guess you saw that coming, didn't you?

Our spot wasn't near this nice. This is a "representative picture" of where we were.

I might have last been bowling over a decade ago. Have the lanes gotten narrower? I think the lanes have gotten narrower. I'm going to partly attribute my poor showing to the fact that by arriving late I did not have time to warm up. And that my ankle was sore. And that Mercury was in retrograde, causing my chakras to become misaligned and knock my vibes out of sync. Something like. Could it have been I'm just not a good bowler? Nah. Or yeah. One of them. They're all equally valid reasons. 

The guys in the next lane (also farmhands) could have been on the pro tour - they had that classic spin on the ball, the made it curve like a bow, picking up spares off splits and other bowling lingo that makes them seem cool. I was bowling with people who once the ball left their hands would turn around and ask us not to look at the lane and we cheered for two or three pins going down. I was bowling against someone from the Bedrock bowling league who literally heaved the ball a quarter of the way down the alley Flintstones style. The sad part is that he is still a better bowler than me.

The Ranch provided us with some "social lubricant", but me being of a certain age and temperment I decided to go get what I actually wanted. The bar, in a throwback bowling alley that looked like it was time locked in 1973, was a bit of a surprise. Not that it was there, I mean where else does the beer you're supposed to drink while bowling come from? No, what was a shock was that I spotted a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle. Seriously. I asked the bartender if I was seeing things and he assured me that he was not. I asked how much it was and he indicated that it was $40....a shot. Not a drink, a shot. So I went back to the beer.

It was a fairly good evening. If the point of the game was fun, then my team clearly won. Unfortunately the actual point of the game is knocking down pins, and we knocked down less than they did. But this wasn't like bowling but golf rules, right? No? I went out again for week 2, but this time they'd made such a big fuss about all the fun  even the company execs showed up. And none of those deep pocketed bros even broke down and got the Pappy. Weak. It was still fun, but halfway work associated fun, you know? 

Barkeep. How much is the Pappy? How much? A glass of your finest  *cough* cheapest, beer on tap please. Thank you.

Where you been?

Ramblings Post #353 
There should be something here, something smart and quippy that kind of sets the tone for the writing below. Nah, not this time. It is what it is. I is tired.

It's been a minute since I been doing this, so what happened? I've been doing nothing and  everything. A little bit of something and whole lot of time wasting. I have determined that sitting on my couch in the silence of my house is just plain relaxing.

I may have to get a recliner.

My days at "the Ranch" have become an adventure. Everyday a new bronco to bust, a fresh forty acres to tame, somebody who can't read a simple email. They just keep adding layers and duties up in this piece, and you keep wondering what's really going on. I have a long history of "falling into" pulling more than weight on whatever spread I end up on just because that's how it all falls out. Doing management things and making management decisions on a peon salary because no one else wants to step up and I have this impediment called a good work ethic and desire to always do my best. I went to law school to place myself in a position to avoid these types of setups and endgames, but this is starting to look pretty damned familiar.

Admittedly this time it's part of a larger overall plan, but still.

I've been thinking about it and the one exciting thing I've done this summer is -- work. Just work. That situation along with the legendary Atlanta traffic and a personal ennui makes the very idea of doing much productive a struggle. I'm not stuck writing, I mean I have the story outlined, I know clearly what I want to say, I'm just not writing it. I'm working out a bit, but not anywhere near enough. I need to take mine ass to the driving range and hit some balls, but that would involve doing something, so that's out. I need to clean up my house, but I keep finding reasons not to like, um, I have to look at something in the mirror, or the couch needs sitting on, or my personal fave, if I go in another room I can't see it's still junky. I have a stack of very stylish shirts with some of the weakest button-work in history on my ironing board awaiting a pressing. I just need a spark to get going, to get get back into the groove. To hit my grind hard again.

Now, my summer use to be a bevy of social events, house parties and street festivals as well as nights out finding new spots to waste time in. But with age comes new priorities - friends get married and have kids, kids get older, the music gets weirder, and the clubs start letting in people who don't realize Will Smith or Ice Cube had a rap career. My summer is now quiet nights at home, reading, halfway trying to exercise, writing as much as you can without actually writing anything, playing computer games (PC and PS4) and doing everything but what I need to be doing. I should be....

...seizing life. But right this moment, I don't know.

Barkeep, can I get a,... what? You need to see my ID? Are you kidding me? 

He was a good guy....

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you. It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully you leave something good behind.” Anthony Bourdain (1956 - 2018)

Anthony Bourdain looked to me like a guy I used to work with. A guy who explained one night, while we were out some place God knows where doing God knows what, that he had to stop drinking because "there are too many jurisdictions between here and my house." Anthony Bourdain reminds me of him - a little rough around the edges, but when he spoke he sounded like an old friend. I liked Bourdain. Mostly because he proved that you could get paid to travel and eat, and you didn't have to always go the end of the earth to do it.

A storyteller who ended up cooking for a living, then writing a book about what really happens in the kitchen and getting famous for it, Bourdain was something special. His voice melodic, his interest genuine. He was a guy that took his fame and didn't just indulge in it, he tried to in his own way to make the world a little bit better. His cooking shows weren't about cooking, but about the people in those places that made the food, be it the a kitchen in Cambodia or Boise, ID. And he didn't think you had spend a ridiculous sum of money on something for it to taste good, it just had to be authentic. He made eating interesting. 

My favorite fact about him is on his show Parts Unknown he traveled to Charleston, SC and while there, a couple of drinks in,  he visited one of the many outposts of that late night life line, the Waffle House. Yes,  the same Waffle House where the steak with sides is less than $10 and you can get your hashed browns like 1,000 different ways. And he loved it.   

Oh, and he like Archer. I love Archer.

Mr Bourdain, I don't think the world will be the same now that you're gone.

What I learned 2017

When I was younger, the first few days of January was spent trying to make sure I started the new year off right. This would mean taking pains to make sure the first iteration of everything was positive, from my first meal, the first time I drove, my first brunch, the first TV show I watched, the first store I went into, etc. These little steps, I assured myself, would get the year kicked off on an upward trend upon which I could build. But as I've grown older, I've found that life doesn't work quite like that. In reality they were more like that that annual resolution to go the gym...until at least mid February this time, for sure.

What I've learned it is that good things can happen at any time, not just at some magic moment. Although it doesn't look like it now, a few years ago I started on a program that got me back to within ten pounds of my high school weight. I started it on an odd weekend in July, because that's when I started it. But it worked because I was committed to it. I dutifully ate what I was supposed to eat, did what I was supposed to do and applied myself. I didn't work because I started off the year with healthy meal and wore that shirt that made me look like a movie star (I have one, seriously.)

So in 2018, what my plans are for Commitment to the Idea. The idea itself doesn't really matter, be it start a business, go to Paris, run a marathon, whatever, as long as I'm taking the steps to seriously pursue it, not just dreaming about it and doing things when there is an odd moment. It means doing the research, planning and getting your shit together. This does not necessarily mean it becomes an all consuming drive which reduces all else to nothing, that's not healthy. When I committed to losing that weight it became something I'm always mindful of, like a constant background noise, that guided my conscious choices. Not that I didn't occasionally falter. But a misstep doesn't mean you stop. It means you learn from it and keep going.

It's about getting your mind right. Not because of a deadline. Not because of outside forces. But because you had a choice and you chose to do that thing that would help you get you where you wanted to go. It means making that active choice to do something that might be boring or even unpleasant now so that you can reap the rewards later. And doing it over and over again. It's a value judgement, the choice to commit to getting something done long term even when you perceive what you think of as your short detriment. In my case, it was I can lose the weight, provided I don't eat that hotdog. And I wanted that hotdog. One or two times I even had that hotdog. But the next morning I got back on the path to where I wanted to go. 

So, this year: Get your mind right. Pick a goal. Make a plan to get to that goal. Start. Stick to it until you get to that goal. 
  

Ask yourself if the argument AND the aftermath is worth it. A lot of folks forget that second part.  

Sometimes they just don't like you. And you don't get to know why. So you suck it up and move on. 

People aren't always as grown as they think they are. 

True love never really dies. It might get put to the side for a while, but when you dust it off it still shines as bright as if brand new. 

Intelligence matters. 

Concentrate on your own shit and let karma deal with the rest. 

More people are interested in change in their favor that equality.

Sometimes your best just isn't good enough. 

What I learned in 2016

This new year is just like any other. Nothing is particularly special about it. It could go good or bad. It will be through our own actions and those actions alone that determine if we move along our chosen path and bask in the admiration of others OR sit in the dark mean mugging and feeling like the world has somehow cheated us. The choice is ours.

Now, at this metaphorical beginning point, let's stop and take stock of ourselves. Are you happy with your personal status quo? Have you taken a look at who you are? And not in the superficial way we always do, that I myself am guilty of as well, we but a real in-depth look at who we are, where we are in our life, and why we do those things we do. One those introspective deep dives where you ask yourself THE WHY. Why are we not chasing our dreams? Or why are we still chasing those dreams? Most of us don't do this for various reasons, partially because we're afraid of the answer. But I think most of us should ask ourselves the hard questions at least once a year.   

We hope and pray that the coming of the new year will bring new opportunities and new direction to our lives. In reality the numbering of the year will make no difference if the circumstances we have placed ourselves in do not change. And I say placed ourselves in because I subscribe to the notion that one is usually responsible for their circumstances - well, at least 95% of the time. Some things we can't control - Earthquakes, hurricanes, corporate merger, illness, etc. But those things we can change that we choose not to we are still responsible for. I am of the belief that those circumstances that hold us back that we can change, we should change.

Change. It's a funny idea. In a world where now everything is instant, change came first. Things change in an instant all the time. And yet that same change can take what seems like forever. And both kinds of change  can be both painful or exhilarating. And both kinds happen all the time. I'm guess what I'm just suggesting that by asking the hard questions, we prepare ourselves for change. And that we can be ready for change to happen to us, AND to change those things we can on our schedule.  

I'm not ashamed to admit that last year I was off and on with the struggle to change my own circumstances. Some were successful, some weren't, and some are still in progress. I'm human. I had some up days and down days. But I kept moving. And I think you should too. Maybe your moving is different than mine, in fact, I'm almost certain it is. But being ready, not just going through the motions of life is key.  Because change is coming. So we need to take stock of ourselves, ask the hard questions and figure out how to put the change we control on our schedule where we can.

As part of my process, I gather up those things I've learned, those lessons that I've learned from my previous year. I hope to internalize them. To make myself better. I put the change on my schedule.

What I learned in 2016

I have spent years wondering the answers to questions that I never even asked.

Only being finished is being finished. There is no almost finished.

Good people to have in your life are harder to find than you think. Not because good people are hard to find, it's because everyone has a life.

Extensive preparation doesn't always make you ready. Sometimes you gotta change what you do to make an impact.

I have a tendency to get comfortable with what I have, and that's bad, because I'm capable of so much more.

The theory of nobility is much harder than the practice. 

I may be too nice and have too much patience, if that's possible.

Falling down isn't the end. Not getting back up is.

Bacon is...it just is.

Plan. Then get started. You may not follow the plan after the first few steps but plan. It gets you started and lets you know where the end lies.

Figure out what gets your day started, what gets you rolling and do that everyday. Even weekends.

I don't like calling people if it's not for business reasons. I feel like I'm bothering them.

Exercise your imagination. Daydream, pretend in the mirror, whatever. Because when we stop dreaming we stop trying.

If you're going to love someone, then love them all you can. People you will really love with your soul aren't easy to find. And they need to know you care.

Baking is God teaching you to take your time.

Learn to cultivate yourself. It's impossible for you not to reap what you have sown.