walking... we're walking.... we're walking... and.....

Walking's been on my mind a bit, of late.

I've done quite a lot of it, the last five or so months.
Not unusual.
Last year, I began training harder, hiking more, around mid-march, in advance of a big hiking trip.

It brings me joy.
And blisters.

I hit a plateau a few weeks ago. a mental wall. and walking's suffered a bit from it.
So again... it's been on my mind.


The dawning of the era of Fitbit, has changed how we look at stuff like... hiking. walking in the woods.
walking 'round the neighborhood on a work break.....

"4.5 miles, 9 flights of stairs, 95 minutes of target cardio exercise... That's a good walk!"

Is it? I mean, it's a decent work out, but is it a good walk?

but like with so many things, numbers only tell part of the story.

What if you add context?

Maybe it was 4.5 miles of awkwardness, first walk with someone as you transition them from dating partner to friend?

Maybe it's from the night, back in the winter, when you couldn't get the ride service apps to work, standing in the group of strangers outside the bar, all staring at their phones and complaining.

or that afternoon when the rain arrived two hours earlier than forecasted, while you were 2 miles from the car?


Maybe it wasn't such a great walk, after all.


There was something kinda satisfying, 3 months ago, to walk for the sake of walking. For the simple sake of putting one foot in front of the other, over... and over... and over.

In the time of uncertainty, this simple act... one foot in front of the other, staying on the path..... helped.
And the fitbit… helped. helped to keep score. helped to make you feel like were accomplishing something good and healthy and simple and pure, when there wasn't a lot of that going on.


the 30 minute, 1.4 mile walks... not a great walk.

Except... it's around my neighborhood. you say hi to everyone else who's walking, and there are always a lot of walkers. You watch your neighborhood... bloom. turn green, flower up. you watch gardens get planted and thrive.
You see new messages of youthful hope and solidarity written in chalk on the sidewalk.

You're... part of it. Part of something larger than yourself.



So, to sum up, five months ago, it was all about simply putting one foot in front of the other, and not getting lost.
NOW... it's about being reminded that you're a part of something bigger than yourself.

I frequently drive aimlessly around with my new girlfriend.   She's all about scenery and laughing and companionable silence.   She's all about talking, too, but doesn't worry if we aren't.

We do this so often, in the time of pandemic and social distancing, that I created an "Aimless Driving Mix" on my phone. 
of course it's awesome. 
duh.

We see angry, butch dwarves smoking cigarettes by the side of the road with  giantess'.
Monks in full monk-garb, doing yard work at their place, mystifyingly situated in a tiny blinking light town that offers nothing else.
We've seen shipwrecks in yards; Amish buggies sticking ass end out of the woods, in what appeared to be an amish version of red neck yard dump.  
An old lady standing in her large yard with a tiny bottle of round up, spraying 1/4 acre of weeds one weed at a time...…

It gets so we're a bit disappointed if we don't see SOMETHING....


Was driving in a county not my own, last night.  It's... nearby.

And one I was once more familiar with, than I am now.

Somone's spending a LOT of money on signs, in hopes that they're elected to be the county prosecuting attorney.

It seems like a miserable fucking job, ESPECIALLY in the county in question.  I'd like to be exposed to the dregs, ALL THE TIME, of a county known for... dregs. 
I want to eat, drink, sleep, fuck, breathe... the dregs of this county.  At their... dreggiest.  

(Yeah, I just made that word up.  my blog, friends.   I can do that....)


Then I wondered:  How much self righteous fury would one individual have to possess to get excited about prosecuting societal dregs for the rest of their life?

Doesn't seem like a hugger.

Several Random turns in middle of nowhere, picking pavement over dirt at various intersections, and all the sudden, I was.. there.  Upon it.    

An old, oblong, barn.  one I hadn't seen in almost 5.5 years, and hadn't thought about in as long.
It was my favorite intersection on my way to the old job.  I believe I posted pics of it, labeling it as such, at the time.    Little did any of you know that favorite intersection on my way to THAT job, was like being the nicest guy in prison....  


But there it was.
And for a moment, I experienced the same fear and depression and panic I used to experience, every morning, at that intersection.   
It was the last choice I had, every morning, back in the day. Turn left, go to hell. turn any other way, lose my job.  
Decisions, decisions...

Less than a second later, all of it had passed, and I was left, at the intersection, surprised by my visceral reaction, all these years later.    And I certainly knew which way NOT to go.

"If you were a child" the therapist told me at the end of our first session, 5.5 years ago,
"I'd have to call DCFS. You're being abused."

Maybe I should not be all that surprised by my reaction, after all.
br />

Platitudes...

Live, laugh, love.

My goodness, but that’s annoying.

My first exposure was 5/2014, upon starting the job that brought me back to MI, that was so horrendously bad, with such horrendously unpleasant coworkers, and psycho bosses, that HR apologized to me for my experience, and gave me a beyond generous severance package, if I agreed to not speak ill of them by name in public.

I was there for less than a year. 

So, maybe “Live, Laugh, Love” never really had a chance.    The nasty, mean cracker who had a needlepoint of it at her desk, and informed me it was her life motto, might have just spoiled it for me.

But, you see…. now... I'm experiencing on-line dating.

I’m on a dating app.  

And there are a LOT of women who like to use these platitudes in their profiles. 

And to be very clear - I expect lots of guys do the same.  probably not "live, laugh, love", but....

anyhow...

Every time I see “Live, Laugh, Love”…. I stop looking at their profile.  

Hard stop. 

Can’t help myself.  

One of 3-4 pics on a profile I checked out, was of these very words tattoo’d on the woman’s shoulder.     Christ.

But in case I appear to be singling this particular platitude out, let’s rush through a few more.

So…

About your school of hard knocks - Charter school?   

Oh, and “I work hard and play harder”.

How hard ARE you actually working?  Need a baseline, for comparison.   

Oh, it says here you’re currently exploring new career options. 

And honestly - Fuck your YOLO.    You’re on this earth just this one time, so LET’S GET EXTREME!!!  How does this “philosophy” make sense? “ I get one shot at this, and can live a long life suffering consequences of half-assed decision making. Fuck yeah!  bring it!”    

What behaviors are allowed and not allowed, under YOLO?  Are their guidelines written out somewhere?  what's simply living your best life, and what's living your only life with abandon?

And don’t sing like noone’s listening.    Sing like someone just might be.  Take pride in yourself. Make an effort.  Sing like you love your voice and it brings you joy.

Own that shit.

And don’t get me started on “Learning to dance in the rain” or whatever that correct platitude actually is.      

Honestly, this one’s not as bad.  Except, after I didn’t mind it the first time I saw it anywhere, it wasn’t long before I saw it… everywhere.    Why, it appeared that EVERYONE was learning to dance in the rain.

Except… when it actually rained, I never saw anyone outside, dancing.   
And I fucking looked.
   

I’m calling bullshit….

Platitudes……

Splendid Isolation, I don't need noone....

Warren Zevon's old song is rattling around in my brain pan this morning.

Actually, just the ridiculously short refrain....

Staring out my window as dark turns to gray turns to light.  I'm monitoring work emails, of which there are very few.     I await tomorrow, when I'll find out what convoluted but possibly workable plan my work has developed, and what that means to me for the next three weeks.   ditto whether or not i'll get paid.   

Basically, they're trying to gauge the mandatory stay at home against what they can argue to be essential work. 

Splendid isolation......

Crushed it sunday, in preparation for what I was lead to believe would be a monday announcement.
I was lead correctly....
Yesterday, in advance of the announcement, i made sure to be at the grocery before it opened, to make one last, grand grocery run for my mom, who's shut in.  I picked up a couple things for myself as well.   I was home by 8:30, clothes went straight into laundry, I washed hands for a day, showered for what seemed like two more and.... that was that.

Splendid isolation....

All the memes all the folks posting, omg, now we're going to find out that what our teachers go through every day, we're going to go crazy cooped up in house together, we're going to..... 

Any funny memes or posts from middle aged people who will spend the next three weeks entirely by themselves?   
OMG, HOW HILARIOUS.

yep, that's sarcasm.     
I'm likely 9-14 days away from being able to spend time with my kid, without being totally irresponsible.    If i'm lucky.

And I've a list of things i hope to accomplish, but the list vs. 21 days.... no contest.

I've a small house that I just moved into 6-7 months ago.   After moving out a year before that, with goal of maintaining a fairly minimalist life style.

I've nothing to go all Marie Kondo on, in other words.
I don't have indoor painting projects.
I don't have ANY indoor projects.
And responsibly looked at the forecast and realized I didn't need to go to hardware store at last minute to buy all the stuff I'll need to re-paint my deck.   It won't be warm enough.

You know all those funny memes about how finally introverts rule the day, and they've been training for this their whole lives and......

On the other end of the spectrum are folks already whining about how bored they are.   That's a luxury, friends.   It doesn't feel like one, but... congrats to you for being bored already. 

I wasn't bored until last night.   because until 4p last friday, i was still at work, a place that employs 3000 people, but has tech for working for home for aprox. 1.6% of that number.

And should i start to feel bored today, I can spend my time not knowing what the hell my job's going to look like after noon tomorrow, or even if I'm going to get paid.


So, three weeks, potentially spent entirely alone.

I am NOT, as it turns out, an introvert.     I embrace it, and seek it out on occasion, especially if I feel
the need to balance against excessive extroverted behavior. 

But generally speaking - I LIKE people.   

And as I began figuring out my new normal 17 months ago, I realized life was better for me with access to them. 
Not ALL the time.    But I realized I was more the person I want to be, when able to interact and play off of others.   I'm more stimulated, more creative, and can let loose with the dry wit and goofy charm, which is... intrinsically me.   It's an important part of my self-identity. 
And the kindness. 
Lots of kindness, needs people to be kind TO.

I figured it out.....     People....   Just to know that they're there, and to take advantage of them being there on fairly regular basis.   My couch, by myself, was not a treat, NOT a goal or aspiration.
But a tool for balance.

This will not be balanced. 
This will not be what makes life better for me.

My best hope is to NOT get ridiculously-to-the-point-of not-being-able-to-care-for-myself, ill.

And to NOT go crazy or become...less somehow, without the stimulation of other people.

I see friends who've lives that make it relatively simple to fully isolate with each other and their kids. They're likely doing a test run on living together.   I think it's beautiful. 

I know folks my age who've never married nor had kids, and have built full wonderful lives for themselves which have suited them well.   Until they can't do many of the things they've built a life doing....

I've a friend who's very quietly and quickly trying to get all of her kids home, so that they don't have to ride out by THEMSELVES, while not working.     I fear for her health with the exposure, but completely respect what she's trying to do.   Taking care of her kids is how she's been wired forever.   And I know they'll make the best of it, even if it'll be a strain on her toilet paper supply.

My daughter's worried about going crazy at home for next three weeks, but she's got a house full of amusements and distractions; and her mom and her mom's boyfriend.   


So. 
21 days.

with a thin project list, and a list of daily goals that while being healthy and helping me toward the lifestyle I want, don't take much time, don't eat enough clock....

And a vague fear of simply falling through the cracks.   
Wonder whatever happened to Patrick, he's not been on facebook for a bit......

Of taking long walks and waving to strangers from a safe distance, and THAT being my social life for the day. 

Of re-reading a lot of books.

Of practicing the guitar - a lot.   

In other words, of trying to maintain a routine of sorts, with way less to MAKE a vibrant routine, than is optimal.

Of deciding what to do and what to put off in the moment, so as not to have ALL the day's excitement happen at once. 

ex:  I'm waiting to shave until later. 

It's going to be the best damn shave I've given myself in weeks.  it will take no fucking time at all.


21 days.

Of hoping to simply survive it, alone. 

Sunday morning. Coffee, dying laptops, the disintegration of democracy, maybe a nice scone.....

It's a weekend morning, I've a full cup of coffee, and I'ma just gonna let it rip, until my daughter wakes up.

In the last 16 months, I've started dozens of pieces this exact same way.   With the occasional curse word thrown in for tone and voice.

When one writes, even if you're not sure there will ever be an audience, you should still write with one in mind. 
None of that "Dance like nobody's watching" stuff, here, my friends.

Laptop's dying, so every time I complete something, is a victory.   You're 6 paragraphs in, and all the sudden your cursor.... moves.  several lines / paragraphs up, and you're typing away and eventually realize something's gone wrong.
again.


Something went wrong again this week.    Our democracy crumbled a bit more. 

You knew, going in, that the game was rigged.   You KNEW there would not be due process, a fair trial, etc.   You fucking KNEW it.

And you realize that once again, your two choices are to not pay attention, not care, not...hope.

Or.....

You decide to let Lucy hold the goddamn football for you again, because maybe, just maybe, this time.... she won't pull it away.   

"Sure I knew the game was fixed.   But it was the only game in town."   - Canada Bill Jones

The above is not a direct quote.   The larger historical context has someone asking him why he played the game, if he knew it was fixed.

"It's the only game in town."

I've only been paying attention to politics for 30-35 years.

All I remember, for instance, about the Nixon impeachment trial, is that it pre-empted Bugs Bunny, the single best part about getting home after a rough day of afternoon kindergarten.

I vaguely remember feeling like it went on for a long time. 
Maybe they allowed for witnesses and evidence.   

To see the big" fuck you, america", time after time after time, from Mitchie, while being told my so many (mostly uninformed and generally angry) that this is awesome and great because.... winning!... I'm simply at a loss, at this point. 

So, here we are.  Planning to show our outrage, maybe.   Planning to work hard to get someone else elected / get people to the polls / etc.   
or not.

Maybe you're just drinking coffee and staring at the gorgeous sunrise, and feeling like all it's kinda pointless and... broken.     Hopefully you'll pull up your big boy pants in a few days, and... once more into the fray.

it's the only game in town.


There are clear signs of children stirring in the room down the hall.  So my time here is limited.

Unless, by some miracle, my daughter and her friend come out of the room in a few minutes, and ask "What can we make YOU for breakfast? No, no.  Don't get up.   We got this..."

That would be... quite something.

A random thought from New Normal Land

Random Thoughts from New Normal Land.

So, heard a great story this morning, from a co-worker, from back when he was a team leader on the production floor. 

It was his birthday, and the team he lead all wished him happy birthday as the shift began. 
When they all came back from lunch break, his youngest team member, whom he described as being a very nice young woman, handed him a big cookie from the cafeteria, and wished him happy birthday again.   

“.Hey, that's really nice, thanks.......”

Next day, he gets in, and checks emails, and finds that the team member in question, had been suspended pending investigation, for theft. 
Yep.    

Theft of a big-ass cookie from the cafeteria. 

She had stolen his birthday present, and lost her job over a $2.00 cookie. 


And should the opportunity present itself, that’s the kind of big love I want to find.

Someone who will risk prosecution to acknowledge my birthday. 

That's just so damn beautiful... 

☺

Don't fight against the lean.

“Don’t fight against the lean.”

I had accepted an offer for a ride to class on the back of motorcycle, from a guy named Hugh, I think.  Some incongruous name for our age and time.  I remember him as kinda awkward, but nice enough, and you got a sense that he was maybe a quietly cool guy, if you ended up hanging out together for any length of time…

I was 20, and hopping on the back of a motorcycle for the first time. 

I acted like it was no big deal.   Duh.

Hugh: skinny, longish blonde hair and horn rimmed glasses, had just showed up one day.  I’m sure the reality of it is a bit more detailed, but I have no idea of the origin story at this point in my life, so…. He just showed up one day.

And I hopped on the back of his bike, not very convincingly I expect, and we sped off. 

I had a death grip on the small handles, one on each side of the rear seat, should, say, you NOT want to hold onto the dude in front of you on the bike…

And then he took the first turn at speed, and we started tilting, and leaning, and I was quite sure we were going to lose the bike and get some nasty road rash, and…. We never did. 

I was just starting to relax a bit and enjoy the ride, a sunny spring day from one side of campus to the other, when we were at my destination.  I hopped off, again not convincingly, and thanked him for the ride.

“No problem.  But next time, don’t fight the lean.”

Hadn’t a fuckin’ clue what he was on about. 

“Explain.”

By not leaning into the turns as he was doing, I was making it harder for him to control the bike.    He went into a bit more detail, but….  I understood. 

Don’t fight against the lean. 

Got it.

By pure coincidence, I’ve never been on a bike since.

I remember he stayed at school that summer, as it was also the first summer I opted not to go home.  I don’t recall hanging out all that much.

One thing stands out…

I registered only that it was really fucking late, when my roommate let herself in.  And then I went back to sleep.

She was still out cold, when I got up to go to work.    We finally reconnected that evening.

She, basically, asked me to guess where she had been the night before. 

Uh…..  I had no idea.

Seems Hugh, if that was his name, had stopped by unexpectedly the afternoon before.  He was looking for me, because He had an extra ticket to Dylan, maybe the Dylan & The Dead tour(?).

Since I was not there, he asked my roommate to go instead.  And SHE….. her mom lived a few blocks away, so borrowed her nice car and they hauled ass to Indianapolis for the show.

But…but….but…..  fuck.    

But then I asked myself how he and I would have had to get ourselves the three hours south down I-69.

Oh, and back….

And I didn’t mind it as much. 

Don’t fight against the lean.  

I racked my brains, and I cannot remember a time I ever saw him, after that. 

Why the random nostalgic musings?  

Toward what possible profound conclusion are you taking the scenic route?

Whoa! Just…whoa.

Have we met?  I always take the fucking scenic route.

Honestly, random shit just pops in there.  Usually, initially, as words.   I’m sitting on a deck chair, in shorts and a heavy hoodie, looking at my yard and the night sky, and… POP!

“don’t fight against the lean.”

And that triggers the larger context, hopefully, or at least a desire to ponder upon it a bit to see what you can stir up. 

in this case, a random tale used to offer up a good piece of life advice, but in a non-assuming way that allows you, the reader, to apply meaning to it that works for YOU.
or not. 

And I just like the way it sounds.