Monday, April 20, 2015

I Think I Work Too Hard

In an effort to increase my blogging and, by accident, my writing skills, I've decided not to think so hard about what I want to blog about.

It's actually kind of funny. I've never quite grasped the usage of the word ironic so I just don't use it. Is it ironic that the reason it's hard for me to come up with blogging ideas is because too many people read my blog? There are some people I don't want reading certain things about my life so I have to carefully pick and choose what I can write about and what I mustn't. So, I just don't write.

At what age is it too late to have a midlife crisis? I'm considering having my second one at the age of 48. Is it okay to have two midlife crisis's? How do you spell crisis's? It's actually crises. That's the word that went thru my head as I was writing, but it looked wrong. I had go look it up. All my life people have been telling me that your initial instincts are usually correct. The Internet has made my ability to double-check myself a debilitating curse. Add that to my list of crises. Check.

The other day I cruised the Durango blogs and realized he's removed the link to my humble page. This is good information. I realize now that 6+ months is too long to go without invoking the Nix of Durango. I'm a little sad. Ghost (Musings From the Lion City) still has me linked though. He's apparently more patient.

The problem with not having ideas is not knowing when to end.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Poignant Ponderings (Ode to Allen)

I haven't written in this thing for so long no one reads it anymore. I still look at it as writing practice.

It's also a bit like a diary. A place to write down my thoughts and help me to get over some of my strange mental imaginative mitosis.

About 5 years ago, I told someone, "Man, if you had a vagina, I'd marry you!" It's a bit crude, but crude things happen when you hit the big four oh. I don't have a lot of friends. I have a rather large number of acquaintances through one means or another, but not many friends.

About 4.5 years ago, I met someone who made me feel as comfortable as the above referenced friend and she had a vagina! Really! We talk about everything. We're best friends. We have the same tastes in how to spend quiet evenings. We even listen to the same kind of music (mostly). We love the same vacation spots!

About 1.5 years ago, I married her. Which is probably why my blogging has become scarce. I don't need to write down my thoughts anymore. I finally have someone I can share them with on a daily basis.

Since I met Lisa, we've been talking about opening a bar: "GarLisa's" (I've already purchased the domain name so don't even bother). We always have excuses. A plethora of them: We have to wait for the kids to graduate high school, We have to wait for the kids to graduate college, We have to wait for the next solar eclipse, etc.

It's always something.

Durango first talked me into blogging. He writes a couple of the blogs referenced on the right of this page. Durango kind of "saved" me after my first divorce back in the early 2000 era. It's strange being a socially awkward geek and how certain people come into your life and do some freakishly psycho mumbo jumbo on your tender psyche (like convincing you to get your lovely locks trimmed back from their 80's magnificence). I believe it was from Durango's blog that I found a link to The Whited Sepulchre. I'm not 100% sure of that last fact, but it makes for a slightly more entertaining story (I can't lie -- even in prose).

It was also around this time that I joined the Libertarian Party. I literally paid monthly dues to have my voice in politics. I even ran in an election for a Texas Representative position from Northeast Tarrant County (I got 995 votes which was 5 away from my goal). I'm not cut out to be a politician. My ability to lie is non-existent and I don't even come close to agreeing with the majority of voters. Although I believe I'd do a swell job if given the chance.

It was at my first Libertarian meetup (at Rahr & Sons Brewery) that I met Allen Patterson. He was just one of those "approachable" people. That doesn't sound like much, but when you're as socially awkward and shy as yours truly, people like this are very few and far between. I can count the number I've met on one hand. They are a rare breed. Allen is a rare breed.

According to medical professionals this rare individual has about 18 months to live. If I believed in prayer, I'd pray it's not true. He wrote his "last blog" the other day and it was entitled, "Don't Be Safe". Maybe it's time to try "GarLisa's" on for size. Fuck being safe.