SOC Sunday

There are moments when I want to know who thought it was ok to stick a bit in my mouth and smack me on the back like I am some sort of plow horse.

You could say I have been graced with broad shoulders, significant amounts of tenacity and determination and a will to win. You could say I will walk through hell covered in gasoline and it would be true.

That is part of what comes with the territory of being me and part of why there have been moments where I have said I live alone and apart. It is not always like that, not by a long shot.

Most of the time, the overwhelming majority of time there is no significant substance to alone and apart but it doesn’t mean that frustration doesn’t come out and bubble over.

Life is interesting and it is part of why I think of whether people play by the rules and if they should.

Thus far I have found that my way of doing things has gotten me to where I am going but it hasn’t been working as well for a while now so I have been doing my best to mix it up. Change is easy and change is hard.

But it is necessary, so I am doing it.

I don’t want to destroy all the structure in life nor am I trying to change things so that it would be fair for all because I don’t believe that can happen.

But I see possibilities and want to turn them into opportunities- that is the goal. So when you ask if I play by the rules I suppose I have to answer…sometimes.

Sunday morning hits and I wake up to the lovely sounds of my children fighting. A silent groan slips between my lips and I put a pillow over my head.

It is the sign of Sunday morning parenting, this desire to see them magically negotiate a truce between them. Further dismay comes from the ache I feel in my legs. They aren’t working the way I want them do.

Too much basketball. Been playing too hard for too many years and my body is betraying my will and desire. It is a bitter pill to swallow, this feeling that I just can’t make it work like it used to.

I make adjustments and play differently but it doesn’t matter. I can’t draw blood from a stone and I am sort of sad about it. My desire to compete is stronger than ever and I suppose my ego is there too. It hurts to let inferior players beat me, well they aren’t inferior now but they used to be.

There comes a revolution and this is how it goes.

Been listening to The Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and Springsteen this morning. Emotional Rescue, Kashmir, One Slip and Happy.

These songs make my heart sing and I feel like maybe there is a way I haven’t tried yet. Maybe there is something more in the tank and a way to turn back the clock. Always a way to make things work, always a way to get it done.

I just need to find it.

**********************

This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.

The picture doesn’t relate to the post as well as it could, but it fits my mood. I just paid almost $5 a gallon of gas and I am angry.

I am tired of feeling like I am being lied to. Tired of listening to political rhetoric from people who don’t know what they are talking about and from those who refuse to vote.

I am tired of listening to complaints from those who are unwilling to try to change.

Change is frightening. It is scary. I don’t like it much, but I am doing things differently because when things don’t work you have to shake it up, you have to mix it up.

I Am Committed

I am committed to making the changes I have to make to improve things in the areas I feel need improving. I wrote this post because I am going to make my book happen.

These are not just words but they feel a bit like it so I am making a list of things I have accomplished for myself. It is a way to see that I am making progress.

My pushup workout is moving along. I am not anywhere close to 500 day but I am on my way. Every day I work at it. Every day I make an effort.

I am impatient.

I am dedicated.

I will.

This was part of Stream of Consciousness Sunday. Five minutes of writing without editing. I cheated and grabbed the photo in advance but the words are what I came up with in 5 minutes.

Sometimes people write me to ask if I wonder or worry about posts that don’t receive any comments. I usually tell them no and most of the time I mean it.

Post without comments are orphans, but they are still well loved and they serve a purpose. Comments are not my form of currency and I don’t measure my success or lack thereof by them.

That doesn’t mean that I don’t want comments or that sometimes I am disappointed when my work isn’t “appreciated” because it is not true. Humans want to feel valued and I am no different than most.

But I write because I love to do this. I write because I get paid to write and this is my cyber sandbox and it is where I work to keep my skills sharp.

I just stumbled onto this particular version of Eli, Eli and I really enjoy it. It reminds me of a million different times and places, but now I am thinking of Jerusalem.

The memories of people who I once knew and in some cases still know wash over me and I am lost in time. There were days where I was a different man than I am now. Can’t say I was better or worse, but definitely different.

That guy had plans to live 10,000 miles from home and would have had a very different life. I wonder what he would have been like and who he would have become. It is part of why I wish I could live to be 1,000 years old because I could have figured that out. I could have continued to take the road less traveled and explored some other places and times.

Instead I am here and most of the time content, but I would not be true to who I am if I didn’t say I have bouts of wanderlust and a desire to hit the open road and just explore the land that lies over there, wherever that may be.

So I suppose that the words I worry most about reading or being read are those written upon my heart.

My daughter wants to know if I feel old because she says I am closer to 50 than I am to 30. I laugh and tell her that I won’t be middle aged when I am 50 and that I’ll still be faster and stronger than everyone.

Her older brother tells me that he believes I will be stronger but doesn’t see faster because you don’t have the same kind of speed at 50 that you do when you are younger.

I don’t tell him he is right even though I know that. I just tackle him and we start wrestling. My boy is getting to be so damn big. He is 8o some pounds of muscle and the day is coming when he is going to be too much for me to deal with. It is going to be a long way off, but I know this to be true.

I celebrate and dread that day. Maybe it is because I am 240 pounds of 5 year old or maybe it is because I have been doing a boatload of push ups. I am getting stronger every day and I celebrate that too.

Maybe I am not 19, my jeans can attest to that but I can still throw the weights around pretty good and the muscle remembers.

One of the cars decided to mutiny today. The #%^&^#%t car must know when I have paid all the bills and in between checks. It was a bad time  for this to happen but that is how it goes.

I keep looking at finances, wondering how the hell I am going to pay for a Bar Mitzvah, but I’ll find a way. I always do. I may not have any hair left but damn I will find a way.

I need to update the story I am working on over here. I have a bunch of ideas but not enough time to work on it.

Time is my best friend and my worst enemy. I feel like I am the kid I was in college but I don’t see that endless highway I used to see any more. Sometimes I am ok with that and sometimes I hate it.

I would write more but my five minutes is up. Besides I am going to come back later and write at least three more posts on my blogs. This is what I am supposed to be doing with my life. I am a writer and these posts are just like the warm up I do before I start lifting.