What do you want to be when you grow up?"
That's something I've never had a ready answer for. And here I am, slightly past middle age, contemplating that very thing. I know that while I'm certainly capable at what I do, it has never been something that I particularly enjoy. Certainly something I'm not passionate about - and I really should be.
But it's not in me. Never has been. An objective look back on the paths I have walked will show those chosen offered the least resistance. Don't get me wrong - life's been good to me so far, to quote Joe Walsh. I am truly fortunate and blessed. I just don't like what I do.
Problem is, I'm hard pressed to imagine what it would be that I would want to do - that would pay well, anyhow. A brief review of options shows that there are not many jobs out there that would pay me to sit in isolation somewhere and not interact with people or phones. There were no hits on Monster under the search 'Stump Sitter'.
But before I can get carried away, I have a job to do here. It may well be that the light at the end of the tunnel here is not actually a train - perhaps I'll feel different once I reach the other side...
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Friday, May 19, 2006
Itch
A small possum gave up the ghost in our garage this morning.
Why he (she?) decided to drop dead inside the garage is anyone's guess. We do have a lot of junk stored there but I'm hard pressed to imagine what it was that might have caught its attention. Hard to put yourself into the mind of a possum - especially a dead one.
I grabbed a few plastic grocery bags to scoop him up then paused as it occurred to me that he might not be dead, that he might be, well, playing possum. So, after a few scientific pokes I decide that he is indeed deceased and bag him up.
On the way to work this morning I stopped to tank up ($60!! But that's another post) and notice a small bug on my hand. Before I could shoo it off it HOPS away.
Shit.
That had to have been a flea.
The bug reappears as I'm doing 70 on the highway. I try to pluck it off my pants but it hops again - not to be seen again. I know that it's probably still in the truck or left me at some point during my travels this morning. Still, you can't know for sure, can you?
So, of course, I'm itching like crazy this morning - my mind working over time to sense any skin disturbance as though the possum's parting gift were a biblical swarm of fleas rather than the one I found.
Why he (she?) decided to drop dead inside the garage is anyone's guess. We do have a lot of junk stored there but I'm hard pressed to imagine what it was that might have caught its attention. Hard to put yourself into the mind of a possum - especially a dead one.
I grabbed a few plastic grocery bags to scoop him up then paused as it occurred to me that he might not be dead, that he might be, well, playing possum. So, after a few scientific pokes I decide that he is indeed deceased and bag him up.
On the way to work this morning I stopped to tank up ($60!! But that's another post) and notice a small bug on my hand. Before I could shoo it off it HOPS away.
Shit.
That had to have been a flea.
The bug reappears as I'm doing 70 on the highway. I try to pluck it off my pants but it hops again - not to be seen again. I know that it's probably still in the truck or left me at some point during my travels this morning. Still, you can't know for sure, can you?
So, of course, I'm itching like crazy this morning - my mind working over time to sense any skin disturbance as though the possum's parting gift were a biblical swarm of fleas rather than the one I found.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Tick
Some how I've developed an internal clock.
I didn't use to have one. I remember back in the day slapping the snot out of the snooze alarm and doing the fuzzy headed morning math to reason that I still had thirty minutes before I REALLY had to get up. Work, wife and kids have changed that when I wasn't looking. For the past few years, the alarm in my head has been stuck on 6am - regardless of how much sleep I got that night.
For the most part, this works. Early enough to be up and going during the work week. And not bad, really, on the weekend as it gives me time to enjoy some coffee and quiet time before the chaos that is children begins.
The real problem is when I have to be somewhere early. My internal clock knows that the alarm is now required to wake me at 4:30 so I can catch my flight. Apparently, it doesn't like the idea and does its level best to beat that clock. Which generally has me up at 2. It's then that the brain remembers the routine and works out that I still have two and a half hours of sleep: if I can fall back asleep that is.
I didn't use to have one. I remember back in the day slapping the snot out of the snooze alarm and doing the fuzzy headed morning math to reason that I still had thirty minutes before I REALLY had to get up. Work, wife and kids have changed that when I wasn't looking. For the past few years, the alarm in my head has been stuck on 6am - regardless of how much sleep I got that night.
For the most part, this works. Early enough to be up and going during the work week. And not bad, really, on the weekend as it gives me time to enjoy some coffee and quiet time before the chaos that is children begins.
The real problem is when I have to be somewhere early. My internal clock knows that the alarm is now required to wake me at 4:30 so I can catch my flight. Apparently, it doesn't like the idea and does its level best to beat that clock. Which generally has me up at 2. It's then that the brain remembers the routine and works out that I still have two and a half hours of sleep: if I can fall back asleep that is.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Foxholes
There be powerful magic deep down in them trenches - enough to change a man. I just wonder if that change is sustainable...
Monday, April 03, 2006
Warning!
The city spent big bucks to install one of those weather alert systems that blares an alarm every time a weatherman says the word 'tornado'. It also plays a voice recording, however the acoustics of our neighborhood being what it is, it can be rather hard to understand. I swear to you, last night after the alarm the system announced "Now batting for Pedro Borbon, Manny Mota... Mota... Mota" which was enough to send my family to the basement.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Complicated
I think life is too complicated.
"No shit," you say, "tell me something I don't know."
Well. Life is too fast. No one stops and tries to grasp what lies under the surface of their life - we're just too tied up in making the bee line as fast as possible - generally while talking on our cell phones.
Ever stop to think that maybe cell phones, computers, microwaves et cetera are not really necessary in order to make it through your day? I mean, do you really have to call someone as soon as the plane lands and comes to a complete stop at the gate? Is it necessary for your tea to be done in two minutes rather than the five it might take to actually boil water? Do you really, really need to TiVo the entire final four, as if you were going to watch all of the games?
In an effort to make our lives more convenient, we've made them more complicated. More gizmos, more gadgets. Shit you just have to have - for one reason or another. And it's not just technology - the phenomena can be safely filed under a glut of consumerism. We are now owned by our credit card companies, and the stuff we bought through them.
"Technophobe!" you cry. And you just might be right about it. But I'm not entirely sure that's a bad thing. I think the entire nation could use a deep breath. A chance to slow down and examine what's truly important. Years ago, when Bell took his invention to the public, the phones would only work while the operators were on shift - 8 to 5, I think - could you imagine what the world might be like if we were to go back to that? Crap, you might actually have to talk to your family. Face to face! Maybe even go out and physically meet your neighbors!
As for me, I'm planning a one man rebellion. I resolve not to cave in and buy a I-Pod. Yes, I know they rock. No more DVDs of a movie I may only watch two or three more times in my entire life. The same for books. I'm going to offload a bunch of stuff that has followed me around all these years - shift some weight - and have a garage sale. Or give to charity. Or something.
And what I do buy will be in the same spirit. Mid life crisis Harley? Nah, maybe just a bicycle - skip the fancy pants.
"No shit," you say, "tell me something I don't know."
Well. Life is too fast. No one stops and tries to grasp what lies under the surface of their life - we're just too tied up in making the bee line as fast as possible - generally while talking on our cell phones.
Ever stop to think that maybe cell phones, computers, microwaves et cetera are not really necessary in order to make it through your day? I mean, do you really have to call someone as soon as the plane lands and comes to a complete stop at the gate? Is it necessary for your tea to be done in two minutes rather than the five it might take to actually boil water? Do you really, really need to TiVo the entire final four, as if you were going to watch all of the games?
In an effort to make our lives more convenient, we've made them more complicated. More gizmos, more gadgets. Shit you just have to have - for one reason or another. And it's not just technology - the phenomena can be safely filed under a glut of consumerism. We are now owned by our credit card companies, and the stuff we bought through them.
"Technophobe!" you cry. And you just might be right about it. But I'm not entirely sure that's a bad thing. I think the entire nation could use a deep breath. A chance to slow down and examine what's truly important. Years ago, when Bell took his invention to the public, the phones would only work while the operators were on shift - 8 to 5, I think - could you imagine what the world might be like if we were to go back to that? Crap, you might actually have to talk to your family. Face to face! Maybe even go out and physically meet your neighbors!
As for me, I'm planning a one man rebellion. I resolve not to cave in and buy a I-Pod. Yes, I know they rock. No more DVDs of a movie I may only watch two or three more times in my entire life. The same for books. I'm going to offload a bunch of stuff that has followed me around all these years - shift some weight - and have a garage sale. Or give to charity. Or something.
And what I do buy will be in the same spirit. Mid life crisis Harley? Nah, maybe just a bicycle - skip the fancy pants.
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