Friday, December 31, 2010

A Look Forward

Dear Diary:

You know what is coming, so here it is....

Dear Self,

Hey you, yes you. I am taking a different route with this letter this year. I am not going to tell you everything that you accomplished. Oh no, I don't want to spoil any surprises that might come along the way. Neither do I want to create expectations in your head that when you look back on 2011 you will feel discouraged or you will trying to force yourself to recognize things that are not really there. But I will point out a couple of general things that you managed to pull off without getting into specifics.

Sure, 2010 was shit year, but 2011 was better. It wasn't extremely better, but it was no worse than the previous one. If anything, it was your year in the sense that you focused completely on you, and no, it wasn't selfish. For years now you have given off this vibe that you ultimately do not care what other people think of you, and hell you have even flat out said it, yet you seemingly have gone out of your way to impress them or give them a good opinion of yourself. It was a walking contradiction really. By focusing on you, and getting your mind and body right, all the other extemporaneous bullshit in life really will not amount to much. Now, I am not going to tell you the specifics of how you did it, but know that somewhere along the journey, something just clicked. I just hope you realize it when it comes. But if you don't, don't worry. It will set in.

The one thing I will tell you that you definitely did accomplish was quitting tobacco. You kept your word to yourself and did not touch the stuff after the stroke of midnight ringing in the New Year. So kudos to that.

Now sure, 2010 didn't end on the highest of notes, and you did not get that SUV that you wanted. You still drove the car your ex-wife helped pick out, but you recognized that the reason you still drive it has nothing to do with anything other than making a quick, and albeit wrong, decision when you were going through your divorce and you thought you needed to have THAT vehicle because it was the only one you could afford. But, once you recognized that, things seemed to work out just fine. Are you driving something new right now? Eh, maybe, maybe not. But is it really that important? The answer is no.

And try to do me a favor? Please take a real vacation. You need one.



Wednesday, December 29, 2010

2010, A Year In Review

Dear Diary:

It is once again time to reflect upon another passing year. It is once again a time to be thankful that my younger brother has less hair than I do, and to be thankful that I did not get another gray hair, not a one, even though I definitely had the stress in my life to have a head chock full of them by now. And well, since doing this same exercise last year was successful and downright easy, I thought I would take the same approach by commenting on the letter I wrote to myself almost exactly one year ago today. Comments are in bold italics. And here we go....again...

Hey You, Again:

So, had fun in 2009 didn't you? Yeah, I know you did. Maybe even a little bit too much fun in some people's eyes, but, don't let their opinions of you form the way you identify yourself. Um not so much really.

If you think 2009 was a good year (and I know you do because I am you), then get ready, and hold on to your britches, because 2010 is going to be even better.Um, again, not so much really.

Around early February, you will once again be a homeowner. You will also no longer be in debt. Well, a mortgage is a debt, but it is a good type of debt to have. And look at your house! I must say, you did an excellent job putting it together. Don't you remember what it looked like back in June? Well, if you didn't, let me remind you: it was a shit hole. Remember that kitchen, and how it was so dated? Now look at it - stainless steel everything! Yeah, I know you were frustrated that it didn't get finished as fast as you wanted it, and I know your back hurt like a bastard from all the painting, but you did a fantastic job, and when you go to sell the place (which I wouldn't because the rent you can get or the building will always be more than the mortgage), you will make a nice little profit. Ok, this one panned out just like it was intended to pan out. The house is great, and it was definitely a lot o work, and I am still tinkering with it here and there. And that kitchen, it's spectacular, if I do say so myself. And I love working in it. Truly, I do.

How do you like that brand new SUV you got? Yeah, I know you thought about it for a while, and it was a difficult decision to go out and buy a brand new vehicle when the one you had worked fine, and was a solid car. But, you didn't pick out that old car as much as you picked it out with your ex-wife. It never really said "me" when you were driving it, and that shiny new black SUV with the sunroof surely reflects your personality. So I am glad you finally dumped that last vestige of your marriage. Besides, you won't EVER have to have to shovel your way out of anything with 4-wheel drive! Well, I don't have a 4-wheel drive, BUT, stay tuned, I still have two more days...

And you FINALLY quit dipping. I know it was tough. I know this because you couldn't do it in 2009, but you did it. All the money you saved you put toward a vacation fund, and you finally made it to Hawaii. Not only did you make it to Hawaii, you flew first class, you fucking bad ass. The very long weekend you took in Hawaii was fantastic, and you loved every minute of it. Oh, and do you remember what you did there? I hope you do, because I am not going to tell you! So I managed to quit dipping for all of a month before I just said fuck it. I was under a shit ton of stress and picked it up again. But as God as my witness, I will not touch the stuff starting the stroke of midnight, January 1, 2011. As far as Hawaii, yeah, that didn't pan out either. I was just too damn busy to take a real vacation, and the only time I took off was long weekends to work on my house.

Also, you got your ass back to the gym after a three month hiatus. Yes, I know you were busy with working on the house and life in general, and the fact that you completely fucked up your back at the end of 2009 didn't help matters any, but you made it back. You got into running, with the help of your trusty iPod, and you even ran a couple road races, so hats off to you. Now, that you are in good shape, do yourself a favor, and go get that back waxed! No woman really wants to fuck a gorilla, just sayin'. This didn't pan out as I had planned, but once Christmas ended I started a new diet with a vigor. My surgery in August really really really fucked with my body as well as my head, and I am sure I fought with a bout of depression somewhere during the recovery process. I did not get to run any road races, because the timing of everything just seemed to blow up in my face. And as far as the back, well, yeah, still hairy. I can't really help it. It's genetic.

Now, I will tell you this. There is a lot that happened to you in 2010 that words cannot describe, so I am not going to take the time to try to describe them, as some things are better left to wonder. But I will say that you did good kid. I tried my best, but I feel as though I fell short. If the things left to wonder where what the sound of having wisdom teeth pulled while being awake, my old me can take that wonder and shove it. No thank you on that one.

I'm proud of you.



The next letter to myself will be published before the beginning of 2011. Stay tuned....

Thursday, December 23, 2010

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like...

Dear Diary:

I finally bought a Christmas tree a few days ago. It is 8 feet tall. White lights, silver ornaments. Silver star on top. It looks like how a Christmas tree should look. And it is real, so it smells like how a Christmas tree should smell.

It also apparently comes crashing down when it is out of balance and shatters many of the silver glass ornaments that you have hanging on it while you are upstairs, causing a fairly sizable mess comprised of pine needles, broken glass, and water (because if you do not keep them watered they can dry and catch on fire, and well, that would just fucking suck).

Fake trees do not do this. Why? Because you put them together and they are balanced. They also have practically no weight to them. But an 8 foot tree is not exactly light. Furthermore, it is a tree, with an actual trunk, that isn't what one would exactly call perfectly shaped. Close, but not quite.

But I do have the tree I've always wanted. At least that is something.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Maybe Because....

Dear Diary:

"Maybe because you have the mouth of a sailor and most women don't want a man who uses the F word in regular conversation? Just a thought."

I am guessing that this was in response to the question that was posed at the end of this.

Now, I really do get frustrated and annoyed when people comment on you anonymously, particularly when it is generally the anonymous comments that somehow have a hint of condescension and come across as judgmental of my character and worth. Well, that is my impression of them, and since they are directed towards me, then my interpretation of them is ultimately the one that matters.

But I have to say, everyone only knows what they know about me to the the extent that I tell you, Diary, what I want to tell you. The vast majority of people that read you do not actually KNOW me. They can think they do, but ultimately, they don't. They know what I want them to know. Nothing more.

So, to assume that when I am actually on a date or having a meaningful conversation with a woman I am interested in that I talk like, "fuck that muthafuckin bullshit, that shit fucking cocksucking bullshit that it is, I mean what the fuck, damn," is not only completely asinine but it really does say a lot more about who is commenting than about what they are commenting on. I mean seriously, think about it for a minute. Do you think saying something like, "damn I want to fuck your tits," would make a good first impression? Me either. That is why I don't say idiotic crap like that.

But also to deny the fact that there are instances when cussing like a sailor is completely appropriate is somewhat ignorant. Like I said, I do not write about every single situation that arises in my life. This is not a chronicle of my daily routine but rather a string of vignettes, offering brief glimpses of what it is like to be me, or what I am thinking about at a particular time. And I cuss like a sailor at times, and many times I do not. I do not hold business meetings dropping F-bombs like I get paid to do it. Why? BECAUSE I AM NOT A FUCKING MORON! But out with friends at a bar? Sure, why not. And that is how I view most of the people that read you. As friends. Comrades in arms. Or some shit like that.

So I guess that begs the question as to why I write in rather a, oh, how can I say this appropriately, um, colorful manner? Well, I write what is on my mind, in the form it is shaping in my head while I am thinking it.

But why do I talk to you the way I talk to you? Well, I really do not have anyone else to talk to. Yes, I know that sounds somewhat sad and pathetic, but such is the state of affairs my life is currently in. I am not seeing anyone at the moment, nor am I even casually dating. It is somewhat lonely and depressing when most of your friends are married, and the ones that are single are younger than you for the most part. I do not want to feel like that poor unlucky loser that is sitting in the corner quietly because he doesn't have anyone to talk to. But that is how I feel sometimes since well, I thought I truly had what I always dreamed of, and lost it all. Sure, I have accepted that, but sometimes, it still does sting when I have no warm embrace to come home to when I am having a bad day.

But Diary, since I created you, I can, and will, say what ever the FUCK is on my mind. I will say it how I want to say it, when I want to say it, and if I want to yell and scream and say it while walking around naked holding my big fucking dick, then I will.

Oh wait, let me rephrase that - my large and impressive penis. Because I don't want to offend my readers and all....

Friday, December 10, 2010

Just Some Random Bullshit

Dear Diary:

Pita chips are delicious. Pita chips with spinach dip are divine. Pita chips and hummus are God's gift to snack food. (Did I actually just say something was divine? Give me a minute while I find my balls please)

The gas company apparently says they overcharged me by about $200 dollars, so I haven't had to pay the gas bill in a little while. This is good considering I am cranking up the heat because I hate, wait, hate is such a strong word, so let me rephrase this, I FUCKING HATE HATE HATE (that's better) the cold. I do not like to be cold. I do not like to have a cold nose. I do not like cold feet. And I do not like cold hands, especially when I have to take a piss.

The roommate is gone this weekend. He had a wedding to go to. In Hawaii. Motherfucker better bring me back some chocolate covered macadamia nuts or his rent is going up. Those little bastards are tasty.

I FUCKING HATE HATE HATE the cold but love snow. That is somewhat of an irony isn't it? And we got flurries for all of thirty seconds this morning. I am not happy about this. If it is cold, I expect white shit falling from the sky, and I am not really talking about the stuff that comes out pigeons. If it was snowing, it would make sense for it being cold. But no it is just that bone chilling windy cold that makes me want set myself on fire just to stay warm.

I am going to be spending a large portion of this weekend making Christmas cookies. Yeah, you heard me right. I even made a fairly sizable grocery list for all the baking I plan on doing. I think I will need somewhere in the neighborhood of five pounds of butter, ten pounds of flour, six pounds of chocolate, and, well, you can get the picture. I have not though figured out how I am going to accomplish all of the baking as far as time goes. There are only so many hours in a day, and some of this stuff will probably take a while. I will be making brownies that call for a pound of butter and two pounds of chocolate as well. That and clam chowder, or lobster bisque. I haven't decided on that yet.

Which, when I got to thinking of all of this, had me wondering. I mean, I can eat pussy and bake. Why the fuck am I single?

Monday, December 6, 2010

'Tis The Season.......Blah Blah Blah Blah...

Dear Diary:

I painted. I painted that crown molding and baseboard that I have been meaning to paint for oh, about a year I guess.

I moved furniture. I moved my couch, which is too fucking big for my house, to another part of my fairly small living room. I need to buy a smaller couch, but for some reason they are a bitch to find. It faces the fireplace now. I need to buy a mantle. Or hang some art, probably something metal that can handle the heat.

There are chairs in front of the window now, which can easily be moved. Not like the couch that was there previously. I can put a Christmas tree there. In fact, I think I will.

I think at some point everyone who celebrates Christmas wants to have a place where they can put their tree in front of their window so that when the lights are turned on one can see it from outside. It feels welcoming, I guess. It's really hard to explain it, or at least I can't fucking explain it, but it's true. Why? Because I said so.

I always wanted one of those gigantic Christmas trees. The ones that are 12 feet high and go right up to the ceiling. I have no idea why I want one, but at some point I do. But I have never had the space for it. I still don't have the space for it. Now while my ceilings are high enough, the actual size of the room is not big enough to handle a tree of this caliber. Not unless I want to have my entire living room occupied by a big fucking tree.

But I do have the space now to put it in front of the window. With white lights and silver ornaments. And it will be a real tree. It will not be one of those fake ass plastic pieces of shit that are apparently all the rage these days. Who buys those? Fucking communists, that's who. And people who hate Santa. Do you think Santa has a fake Christmas tree? Fuck no he doesn't.