Let's see. My sons are men, one with many children, the other one content to wait. My beard is more salt than pepper. My six-pack is nicely insulated with soft padding. It takes a bit longer to get up from the floor after playing with the grandkids or the dog. I don't remember everything EXACTLY as it happened (but, I prefer to call that poetic license). My glasses are on more than they're off... and not for convenience anymore, I find I actually need them more often.
Yup.. I'm seasoned. But, seasoning can be a good thing. All the experiences in my life have been opportunities to learn. I'm slower to anger, and quicker to help someone understand why they have to do what they have to do, instead of just telling them the have to do it; give them a chance to think about what they're doing, thereby learning as I did. I'm appreciated by those who love me for who I am. Instead of a shallow pool of indecision and youth, they see the depth and power of experience; something you can anchor to. I'm not bothered by those who don't get me, by choice or by misunderstanding. My family and my friends are all I need, because they're the very best. They stand by me, fiercely defending, and they know I'm there for them at a moment's notice, no matter the time or circumstance.
I like how I've seasoned. And I'm so thankful for those in my life whom I love. And I'm looking forward to many more years with them in my life.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Living up to the name
Can't sleep. I tried, I really did. I know I need to. I have to work tomorrow, but that doesn't seem to mean a damn thing to my body. See, the name of the blog is more than my nickname and a clever (or maybe not) addendum reflecting my random thoughts. It's truly musings at midnight in most cases, because I just seem to go through this annoying, aggravating, frustrating, infuriating, someotherkindofating, inSOMnia! It's not even cyclical, it just happens. And you get to benefit from my fits of sleeplessness... poor reader.
Today was moving day at work, which always dregs up memories. You see, I've been at this place of employment for 10 years now, and as with other people in other companies, a fair mix of enemies, acquaintances, tolerances, and friends... some of the truest friends, as a matter of fact, have been met at this particular job. So, why does moving my office make me nostalgic? Because I remember the people who resided in the space ahead of me. This particular office I'm moving into is one of three large offices that used to make up one long room, and I find that it represents a microcosm of life's relationships.
The last occupant was a former boss of mine, and someone I consider a friend. He's one of those people I'm sure I would have partied with in high school had we known each other then and been living on the same side of the continent. He moved to another office Tuesday, I moved in today. Prior to him was someone evidently forgettable because I don't remember him. There are some people like that in everyone's life; someone who just doesn't make an impression... who's just there. You can see their face, and the name is somewhere beyond your reach, but not quite important enough to stretch forth and get. Prior to that, an energetic sort. The school jock who also seemed to have common sense and intelligence. The dude who floats in and out of your life, and you're fine to go have a drink with him once in awhile, shoot the breeze, catch up, move on, see ya next time, smile and wave. He was let go some time back and is actually on site as a consultant. Same principal. Before him, the superbrain. The genius with a passion for his brand of science, who tried to draw you into his world and help you struggle to understand what just came naturally to him. But, like the person who can climb the stairs faster then you and is incapable of slowing down, the voice of understanding just got fainter and fainter as he climbed higher and higher, until you're left standing on a landing thinking "maybe I just better go back down". He's no longer there, either, off making his mark on the world elsewhere. The walls weren't there before him, and the long room existed. Several people occupied the office then, none of them with the company now. One in particular is one of those true friends you come across. One of the rare, honest, straight-forward people who are your fiercest defenders and your very best constructive critics; there for you when you need picking up or when you need a good swift kick to get you going back in the right direction. One of those friends you stay in touch with even when they're not in your daily life, ready to talk when needed or to just be around.
And to think, all this runs through my brain while I'm moving desks and hooking up phones and computers. Is it any wonder I can't sleep? My psyche is wearing Nike's.
Today was moving day at work, which always dregs up memories. You see, I've been at this place of employment for 10 years now, and as with other people in other companies, a fair mix of enemies, acquaintances, tolerances, and friends... some of the truest friends, as a matter of fact, have been met at this particular job. So, why does moving my office make me nostalgic? Because I remember the people who resided in the space ahead of me. This particular office I'm moving into is one of three large offices that used to make up one long room, and I find that it represents a microcosm of life's relationships.
The last occupant was a former boss of mine, and someone I consider a friend. He's one of those people I'm sure I would have partied with in high school had we known each other then and been living on the same side of the continent. He moved to another office Tuesday, I moved in today. Prior to him was someone evidently forgettable because I don't remember him. There are some people like that in everyone's life; someone who just doesn't make an impression... who's just there. You can see their face, and the name is somewhere beyond your reach, but not quite important enough to stretch forth and get. Prior to that, an energetic sort. The school jock who also seemed to have common sense and intelligence. The dude who floats in and out of your life, and you're fine to go have a drink with him once in awhile, shoot the breeze, catch up, move on, see ya next time, smile and wave. He was let go some time back and is actually on site as a consultant. Same principal. Before him, the superbrain. The genius with a passion for his brand of science, who tried to draw you into his world and help you struggle to understand what just came naturally to him. But, like the person who can climb the stairs faster then you and is incapable of slowing down, the voice of understanding just got fainter and fainter as he climbed higher and higher, until you're left standing on a landing thinking "maybe I just better go back down". He's no longer there, either, off making his mark on the world elsewhere. The walls weren't there before him, and the long room existed. Several people occupied the office then, none of them with the company now. One in particular is one of those true friends you come across. One of the rare, honest, straight-forward people who are your fiercest defenders and your very best constructive critics; there for you when you need picking up or when you need a good swift kick to get you going back in the right direction. One of those friends you stay in touch with even when they're not in your daily life, ready to talk when needed or to just be around.
And to think, all this runs through my brain while I'm moving desks and hooking up phones and computers. Is it any wonder I can't sleep? My psyche is wearing Nike's.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Level Ground
It's 11:25 on a Friday night. The time when the party set is just getting warmed up. Bands are playing their best sets, hook-ups are firming, groups of girlfriends are tightening their bonds, and the guys going home alone are just getting the clue they may have to settle or lose out.
I'm sitting in my living room, lights off, glow from the laptop two feet in front of me, Road to Perdition in High Def 15 feet in front of me. It's an oddly symmetrical scene from my vantage point. My coffee sits awaiting breaks in the flow of words, slowly cooling, not caring that I'd rather have it as hot as it came out of the pot. It's usually at this point when deep thoughts bubble up and give me pause. Thoughts about the future and where I might be going; thoughts about the past and where I've been; remembrance of the fierce loyalty of friends and the bitter betrayals of those thought to be; speculation on current acquaintances; joy in the sure knowledge of trust given and received to and by a precious few.
I realize, all in all, there's balance. I'm not necessarily thrilled with every twist and turn I've taken through life, nor the paths I've been forced down. But the hard times have made me strong, and the good times have buoyed me when I've needed it most. There are few people I trust completely, and they know who they are. There are a few more that I let in to a degree, and I'm fine with what I allow. There are many who are arm's length and will remain so. I don't imagine I'm any different in this regard from most who would read this; only the details would be different, but life in and of itself is the same sort of roller coaster for all of us. It's how we deal with the ride that defines us. My advice? Stay on. Let it finish. You'll find yourself on level ground on a Friday night sometime while the rest of the world is riding. Take advantage of the break before the next run, don't hesitate when it's time to get on again, and.....
......enjoy the ride.
I'm sitting in my living room, lights off, glow from the laptop two feet in front of me, Road to Perdition in High Def 15 feet in front of me. It's an oddly symmetrical scene from my vantage point. My coffee sits awaiting breaks in the flow of words, slowly cooling, not caring that I'd rather have it as hot as it came out of the pot. It's usually at this point when deep thoughts bubble up and give me pause. Thoughts about the future and where I might be going; thoughts about the past and where I've been; remembrance of the fierce loyalty of friends and the bitter betrayals of those thought to be; speculation on current acquaintances; joy in the sure knowledge of trust given and received to and by a precious few.
I realize, all in all, there's balance. I'm not necessarily thrilled with every twist and turn I've taken through life, nor the paths I've been forced down. But the hard times have made me strong, and the good times have buoyed me when I've needed it most. There are few people I trust completely, and they know who they are. There are a few more that I let in to a degree, and I'm fine with what I allow. There are many who are arm's length and will remain so. I don't imagine I'm any different in this regard from most who would read this; only the details would be different, but life in and of itself is the same sort of roller coaster for all of us. It's how we deal with the ride that defines us. My advice? Stay on. Let it finish. You'll find yourself on level ground on a Friday night sometime while the rest of the world is riding. Take advantage of the break before the next run, don't hesitate when it's time to get on again, and.....
......enjoy the ride.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
