the pod bay door

:: Me, given what I wrote below. I returned from the Y, having thought about the last entry while I was working out on the cross-trainer machine. I thought about the lyrics to Grey Day (gotta love Madness), and then H�sker D�’s These Important Years (by Bob Mould). Then I thought of the baseball playoffs, and of the delicious possibility that the Red Sox and the Cubs could end up in the World Series, which would be infinitely more interesting than the Yankees and Braves (bor-RING!!!!!) I also gave consideration to removing the entry below, but noticed that Derryl offered a comment, so it will stay.

The left-click function on my mouse isn’t working well, and I want to pound sand. Hey you, yes, YOU, tell me what is important to you. I’d love to know. Then tell me why it’s important to you.

:: It’s not these things necessarily (I still have my ’69 Tele, never had a ’54 Strat), but on days like today…it’s a Sunday, I always hated Sundays, and it’s dull and grey and dead and claustrophobic and suffocating in Edmonton today, and Sundays exist to remind you that you need to go back to work tomorrow. I was shopping at Costco just now, and every person there seemed to be in my way. We can’t relive, we can only move forward, but all too often I miss the early 70’s, which for me was the last age of innocence in my life. It’s hard to describe, but it was a time when I didn’t need to be aware of much beyond my immediate surroundings, and I didn’t have to deal with everything else that comes with being a damn grown up.

I love being able to write about “stuff” on my site, but there are also things about which I can never write. I guess that’s where a diary serves its true purpose. Today I’m smoldering with residual anger about this and that, and it gets compounded as I deal with the hearing aid (which is terribly tinny and not too useful in a movie theatre), the stuggle with the eating plan and workout regime, family issues, finances, loneliness, perceived injustices (personal and otherwise), turning 50 and staring into the virtual abyss, and so on. It’s a moment when I want to say, f*ck it all, to hell with the planet.

Yesterday I learned that someone close and important to me was beaten regularly as a child by an older brother, until she was 20, as were three of her other siblings. I think of something like that, and consider how good I had it as a kid, and how good things have been as an adult. I try to reconcile that with how empty I feel inside right now.

Despite the foregoing, I maintain a rock solid awareness and appreciation for how good things are in my life. A balance needs to be struck somehow. I’m working on it, despite feeling like it amounts to a waste of effort.

And how peachy is your weekend? (And I laugh, because as I finish this, the sun snuck through the clouds and shone on my hands and keyboard. OK, God, you win!)