Time

     Time, as they say, is on your side. (Or was that the Rolling Stones?) Well, seems they might have been wrong. Time seems to be on the opposing side these days, the side of those who oppose my every move. Those who want to stop me from doing all the things I need to do in my life, get my house stuff done, finish the pet projects I have on the go, see those in my life who bring me purpose, take a vacation, you know, the crap we want to do instead of the crap we have to do.

 

The older I get the more this fact is fucking annoying.

 

    There's a garden wheelbarrow in my shop that's been sitting untouched for almost a year, a promise to a friend. Unfinished. Story of my life. The other story is the promise I made to said friend. Seems as time goes on, the more that happens. I think I've got lots of time to do these things, then reality hits. Or work hits, or unexpected emergencies hit, or some other damn thing. Time isn't being kind. That wheelbarrow is one of three unfinished projects here, add that to two others at another house I haven't started yet. Yes Jen, I am going to paint.

 

    Youth gave us unlimited time, mostly because we had unlimited energy. We could make a day last 18 hours and still have energy to go out, or indulge in a hobby. All well raising kids, breeding pets, and doing random stupid shit our parents warned us not to do. (And then we told our kids not to do... but anyway). We're old now. We need naps. We get warn out quicker, work hurts. Hell at this point doing laundry hurts. How in the living hell did we accomplish so much all those years ago! When I look back on things and compare my accomplishments to today, I'm embarrassed at my late achievements. Which are.. in a word, slim. 

   

    This past weekend I achieved something at home, I spent half a day killing myself expanding my patio. Did I finish it? Nope. But hey, I started. Now knowing my current age and daily exhaustion quota, I can't see it being done anytime soon. That's the way things are now, we do things a bit at a time instead of start to finish in one shot. Because naps are more fun. Add to that the work took a lot out of me and I'm not in a hurry to repeat that day. I have to, I'm just not in a hurry to. That's the old guy talking - I can easily justify stopping because I'm not 25 anymore, and this shit hurts. Every morning I play the 'what's that pain' game. I'm blessed that I'm still in good shape, and I still have most of my hair. Call that a win. What I don't have is the eternal stamina and energy of youth. The patio will be done, in steps. Over time. Time I don't seem to have.

 

    I have many hobbies, many friends, many interests, and one amazing girl in my life. I'm blessed. I'm well rounded, life is a dear thing to me and I want to suck in everything it gives us, I want to experience everything, I want to share life with everyone. The people in my life give me joy and happiness, the past times I love give me passion and happiness. But I don't have enough time. Seems to be the underlying concern with life now. How can I get more time? Especially when you're at the point in life when there's more behind you than in front of you.

 

I simply need more time. (Wasn't that in a movie somewhere?) 

     

    My last entry was called Work Life Balance. I think that needs to be changed to Life/Life balance. We need to level out the playing field of things we need to do compared to things we want to do, but how? Do we cut things out because there isn't enough time? Do we cut corners on chores? Errands? Friends? What goes, what stays. We have to give everything and everyone in our lives, whether it be mandatory or optional, equal time. Hell, I don't want to do that. I don't want to devote more time to work, chores, errands paying bills, shopping, fixing shit, or anything else that is deemed a necessary evil. I want to devote ALL my time to my girlfriend, friends, family, hobbies, even writing this blog post.  As I write this I can count on both hands crap that needs to be done around here, things I don't have time for, and they bug me. Then there's work, which never seems to go away long enough for me to have some time.

    My boss asked me the other day if I'd put the canoe in the water yet. I kinda chuckled to myself at that, my boss thinks I have time. Yet I'm on his clock. I'm in a weird position at work where I'm on call a lot. Time away, time waiting, time getting background stuff done, even when I come home, I'm still answering messages, planning the next day, or answering texts. Time waits for no one, especially when my boss is controlling it. Lately I've backed off and learned to plan ahead more, but there's always something that comes up at the last minute, things that can't wait til tomorrow. It's a balancing act between me and my job. I could bang on again about how I'd love to be retired, but I beat that horse up in the last entry. So let's not. I just have to learn balance better. You'd think at 55 years old I'd know how. 

    Time is everyone's enemy. Our constant nemesis. If you've ever experienced the perfect moment in time, that one instance where time seems to stop or have no meaning, where nothing else in the world matters except that thing in that moment, you're lucky. I've made myself have those moments more lately. A place holder in time that emblazes itself on you. Keep that, cherish it, and for all it's worth, make it happen again. Make it happen often. There will come a time when those moments will rarely or never happen again. Make the most of them before they're gone. Time won't stop, you have to make it stop, even if for that one fleeting moment. That one time that will forever be in the forefront of your memory. 

 

On that note, ladies and gentleman,

Time.

 

Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your hometown
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine
Staying home to watch the rain
And you are young and life is long
And there is time to kill today

And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun

And you run, and you run to catch up with the sun
But it's sinking
Racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in a relative way
But you're older
Shorter of breath, and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter
Never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught
Or half a page of scribbled lines

Hanging on in quiet desperation
Is the English way
The time is gone, the song is over
Thought I'd something more to say

Home, home again

I like to be here when I can

When I come home cold and tired
It's good to warm my bones beside the fire

Far away, across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells

 

 

David Gilmour/Richard Wright/Nick Mason/Roger Waters

Work Life Balance

    So... it was noted by a dear friend that I haven't been here for a long time. Yeah, I know. I stopped writing. If it wasn't for this particular friend, I wouldn't be doing this now, I lost my mojo. Caput. None. No motivation to write. Thanks Dave, this is your fault.

    As I sit here at the computer for the first time in (checks notes...) fucking years, listening to Dvorak's Symphony Number 4 in G, I'll put pen to paper, so to speak, and Dave can just can it. I'm writing, get off my case.

 

Work. 

    Work is life's perpetrator of bad moods, the fly in all our ointments. We have to do it, because let's face it, we all like to eat. And work keeps us in that habit, as well as other bad habits like a home, a car, cat food, dish soap, pants. Things that we could likely do without if given a choice. We're not allowed to steal money, so we have to earn it honestly (unlike some people in the news these days). We have to work or we die, which ironically is the end result anyway. We must fill those long years of adulthood with the grind or we end up on the street wondering what life would have been like if we just... you know... worked.

 

Life is like a car...

Ignition

Warm up the engine

Drive the hell out of it, 

Idle

Shut off the ignition.

If you don't get the analogy here, then I'm not going to explain it, stop reading this and go pick up a Dr. Suess book.

 

    The bits in between are the juicy ones, the times where you stop driving and go sit on a beach somewhere, or park the car and take the kayak off the roof. Maybe the times where you stop at a little out of the way diner with your love, then the times where you fix the car. All these little places in your life where you stop driving for a while and do something else matter more than the drive. Simply put once in a while you need a break from driving. Stop the car and find a rose to smell. Then the grind seems slightly more bearable. Keep the rose on the dashboard as you go down the road. Remember it, and get more.

That's the balance.

    I'm at the age where thirty years ago I said I wanted to be retired. I'm not. And I can't see that happening anytime soon, as the old joke goes, I have to work til noon on the day of my funeral. Years ago retirement was the end result of a work life, now it's a dream many will never see, how things change. I envy people who can relax in their oncoming golden years, I envy them and curse them in the same thought. Fuck you, people retiring with pensions. I hate you. As we bust our backs at work you sit around planning your next vacation or outing, not worrying about if you can get the time off work. Dammit. You pension fund babies. Lucky fucking people. Anyway, I digress. 

Side note: Hate is a strong word, maybe change that too GRRRRRRRR. jealous! (Yes, that paragraph was intentionally harsh Dave).

    I'm very lucky with my job, I get to chill and travel. I spent last night in Toronto seeing the sights. I spent this morning walking around that city taking in the sights and sounds, all while on the clock. I don't complain. (Okay, well yeah, I do but anyway...)  Most aren't as lucky. 9 to 5 slugs doing their bit for their corporate overlords. Putting in the 40 and paying their taxes like good little Canadians should. That's the deal right? Work for your pay, pay your taxes, get your little house, put food in your fridge, and save up for that trip to Punta Cana. Use your credit card, the banks love that... And now, on top of huge taxes, you're in debt to the banks. Ain't working life grand.

    Do I sound cynical? Well yes, yes I do. I am cynical. Because I'm getting old, and I'm not retiring anytime soon. Either are you Dave.

     When you're young 40 hours seems doable. Out of a 168 hour week you only have to output 40 of it. That leave 128 hours to do what you want. Seems reasonable. But in your fifties, you may as well switch the hours around, and feel like we're working 128 and have 40 off. Because dammit, we're tired. We aren't young anymore! And I like to nap. So....

    Time to do stuff for yourself is fleeting and always centred around the all-present work schedule. "Wanna go to the show Friday?... Nope, gotta work early Saturday".  That's our thing. Work controls everything, but also make us not die of starvation. Now add that little fun bit of your life to your friends equation. Wanna see your friends? See if your schedules mesh. Wanna have a party? How many friends can't make it because they have to work. Now... If we all had retiree pensions..... Imagine the fun we'd have! Again, GRRRRRR, Jealous! 

    Is all this worth it? Of course it is. Until we live in Gene Roddenberry's Utopia of money not existing this is our fate. This is what we have to do. We work, we play, we love, we chill. We accept this life we've been given and we enjoy the hell out of it until we can't physically do it anymore, then we give up and die. That's life in a nutshell. 

    So I'm living to the fullest because I know full well one day I won't be able to enjoy those 128 hours like I used to, I know that I will spend at least 20 of them recovering from the first 40. Once day I will spend another 20 just going to appointments trying to fix the damage the 40 caused. Every year those 128 hours get eaked away just a bit more. Too much to do, to much to catch up. Even now that one hour of sitting on the patio on a beautiful spring day listening to the birds may as well be 10 hours. The little time matters. Every. Fucking. Moment.

    So Dave, now that I've heeded your advice and posted no this blog, where are you? And for anyone else reading this (which won't be many), where are you? Are you still plowing full bore down the highway, stopped to smell the roses, or idling?  Personally, I'm about ready to take the kayak off the roof for a few hours before I hit the road again.

Cheers and love.

Ponderence

 I'm staring out my window. 

That's all, drinking coffee, and staring at cars on the highway. All morning. I can't get motivated to do shit. I just stare out the window,

Pondering. Wondering. Worrying.

I can't get out of this funk that I've found myself in many times before. Over the years I've done the same thing, I think everyone has. There's a point where we become philosophical and spiritual, looking inward and outward at the same time. There's a point in all our lives where we begin to ponder the implications of our own existence, and wonder what it all means, to ourselves, our family and our friends. Then we worry about the future.

I can't not do this some days. The traffic on the highway is strangely intoxicating. Not to mention the change of the season visible in the trees. Winter is coming, more change. For me, fall is not my favourite time, but one of depression and low spirits. Even with the beauty it brings, the coming winter does not make me happy, only aggravated and spiritually empty. More cars and trucks rumble down, and once in a while a cruiser pulls someone over in front of my house.

Then it all stops for a while, the road goes quiet, and I can hear the roosters next door for a while. That's usually rudely stopped by a very loud vehicle. I won't hear the roosters again until tomorrow morning, when I'm trying to sleep. The old wives tales about roosters making a ton of noise in the morning is a misnomer - you hear them all day, unless they are drowned out by life going on around you. 

The same goes with our frame of mind. Sometimes we can't hear the positives for all the negatives that drown it all out. We can't find our centre because someone or something has knocked us off. The traffic on the highway is the same. Sometimes a truck will pull in, or a car of a friend, and you can take your focus off the rest of the highway for a while while you deal with whatever is about to happen. Again, the same goes for our centre. We get interrupted by life events. Dates, meetings, appointments, errands, weddings, funerals, work. Then, we go back and watch the traffic again.

That's where I'm at now, watching the traffic. Now and then a vehicle will pass carrying a boat, or an ATV, canoe. Now and then a bicyclist will meander down the road. Now and then an RV will pass. These change my perceptions of life to one of rest and relaxation, and makes you wonder why it's not you in those vehicles, on my way to some pleasant valley, or mountain lake somewhere. Then a semi rolls past, knocking me back to reality, and I stare out the window again, waiting.

In the country I regularly hear the staccato of gunshots from the hunters over at the river. Another allegory for life, serenity interrupted by chaos. Gotta find the balance, gotta find the peace, gotta ignore the shots. Focus on the cyclists, the peace. It's hard to do, but I have to manage.

When I lived in the city chaos was everywhere, you had to look for the peace. The rat race, the constant comings and goings of everyday existence, all of the allegories transferred to a different situation, but still all the same. Raising a family, caring for a household, people closer than here, busier times, most good, a lot bad. And the traffic. Oh, the traffic. Always going, never pausing, endless streams of distractions, endless reasons to stare out the window and ponder.

I moved out here in part to remove myself from that pace of life. For the most part it worked, I found peace and serenity amongst the lower levels of humanity and noise. Or should I say, peace found me. On the river in my canoe, or walking thru one of the area's parks, and even in my own backyard, by a fire at night, with friends. The pace of life slowed and I had many moments of clarity. Again I had the opportunity to smile and thank God for my life, my family, my friends, my job. Things are so much simpler here when you see just how much the wildlife outnumbers the mass of humanity of the city. The birds and the deer do their thing, the frogs that live in the marsh just live their lives, that's what this place has taught me. Just live my life, go with the ebb and flow of it all, go with the traffic.

Again I took a pause while writing this to stare back out the window. Another cyclist went by, as the lawn mowers and trucks took over the sounds of the day. You can't hear the peace of the cyclist, only the calamity of humanity. You have to ignore that and find the serenity.

Life is like that. Find the peace. Find your centre, find your serenity and centre in the midst of all that which tries to deflect your focus and destroy your peace.

Be the cyclist, not the truck.

Cheers.

Lost

Life is strange, a meandering compilation of events.
Seemingly random, without purpose, without order.
Today happens, yesterday is finished, tomorrow is yet to be.
Time is a meaningless frivolity.
What happens at any given moment has purpose at that time,
But tomorrow that purpose gone. Meaningless now.
It's done.

What's in the past is beyond trying to do anything about.
It's tomorrow now that matters.
Even the present is meaningless to adjust as it happens too fast.
Each moment in the present unfolds as fate requires.
The past can hurt you, memories good and bad have meaning.
The moment is gone, but the pain lingers, or the jubilation.
The pain is always there.

It gets into your head, stuck there, like a sore that won't heal.
It gets into your soul and never lets go.
It gets more difficult to deal with the deeper you go into the rabbit hole.
Your mind gets stuck on memories, good or bad.
And you linger there.

Things that were, things that could have been, things that hurt.
Your mind will always remind you of them, whether you want it to or not.
You try to remember good things, fond memories.
Then you realize you don't have them anymore, and it hurts more.
The pain lingers again, deeper now. More afflicting now.
Why couldn't that good memory remain constant now?
Why couldn't it still be that good.
It can, but we don't let it.

We linger on the bad, we long for the good times.
We long for the things we've lost.
Even though we live in the moment of positivity,
The pain of the past keeps the spirit from truly flourishing.
We try, and try again, until it hurts to keep trying.
Then we give up.

But no matter how far we go forward and stay positive,
No matter how much we endeavour to make new positive memories,
The old negatives still flourish there, in your mind, in your heart.
Things that were once upbeat and happy,
Are now painful to recall.
Because we've lost it.

We want it back and we can't have it, that is where the pain comes from.
Tomorrow is another day in a long series of moments in life.
We can only hope that tomorrow brings forth memories that we don't have to suppress.
Like so many others that were once happy.
And now hurt.

Renewal, forced.

I just realized I haven't written in almost a year.

Shit, I'm slipping.

There was a time when these posts were quite common, and unread. I post this crap for me. I'm not looking for anyone's approval. This is supposed to be my diary as it were.  But apparently nothing has happened since March 2019 that required me to take notes. Nadda. Nothing, Fuck all.

Not entirely true, lots happened, but the other thing that happened is that I just stopped writing anything down. I stopped worrying about logging into my life every week, I stopped caring what others thought of me. Maybe I've grown up, finally. At 51 years old.

So here's a small synopsis of my life since my last post:

• I shattered my foot and went off work for three months.
• I developed a blood clot in my leg because of it.
• I bought a Mustang.
• I made several new friends, and can't imagine my life without them now.
• I'm still NOT finished trucking school (see points one and two).
• I found a brother I never knew I had.
• I sold my house.
• My daughter started college in another city and that freaks me out.
• I've made concerted effort to fix my physical issues. IE, I started working out for the first time in years. I even bought a home gym.
• I'm out of town a lot on business, so I post from Chicago, Louisville, Oakville and Detroit.

In a nutshell, that's not much. I still live alone in the county, in God's country. This brings me strength and peace. Many days I wish I could share that with everyone, so everyone's life has all of that. I've become a simple man, living within simple means, with a neurotic cat as a companion. But I am also gifted with many friends. Life is good.

I've had my share of troubles lately, I've been fighting inner demons as we all do. Sometimes life changes on you and you wonder what path to take. As Robert Frost once mentioned, there is a path less travelled. I took that, and life is better to its means. But that path comes with challenges. Once one is released from bonds of responsibility, one can make a multitude of decisions. Some are regretful, some are promising. I kinda lie in the middle. I have many choices to make, and only I can decide which are the right ones.

These changes and choices have affected my relationships and simply common habits. There are friends I don't see much anymore, but others I see often. There are hobbies I used to indulge in, and other fanciful distractions I revel in. Such is life, it changes. We change. Life changes. I believe this new environment I find myself in has affected some old habits, to the better or worse depending on you point of view. I like who I am now, I like the changes I've made but in honesty I miss who I was years ago. This blog, if you read back far enough will prove that. I don't ever want to lose that old me, but I've evolved; changed. We all do. But we all have our roots, and our passions.

This post is me telling myself to get back to who I was while at the same time keeping who I've become. This post is also now a rambling changing diatribe in which I push myself to pick up pieces of my past and mesh it into my future. You decide.

Ultimately, it's about having a chance encounter with someone with passion for writing, and has awakened something in me that used to exist. Something I really never want to lose. So Thank you Karyn, a women I randomly met and found to have a kindred spirit. You awoken the kraken.

You have made me write again, and dammit, you'll regret it.

Cheers.