I'm Just too Good to be True

When you first read what I am about to share with you, you are going to think it is sad and pathetic. But after you let it sink in, you will know it is sad and pathetic. Not really. That was like a joke only smaller.

I like being alone. I cherish being alone. I look forward to being alone. Don't go, "aww." I'm not lonely. Some of my best and certainly my most creative times occur when I am alone. I get me. I crack myself up. I never come up with a bit that I don't get. And I come up with a lot of bits. Face it. I've shared all the same experiences with myself, so there's never a reference I don't understand. If I had an audience of mes (wow, what's the plural of me?), we'd leave the theater in tears after giving me a standing ovation.

That's not the only benefit, however. There is never a silver lining to losing your life partner, but it made me appreciate my time alone. I had to. Through no fault of our own, Melissa and I didn't have many close friends. We did the couples hang-out thing from time to time, but not on a regular basis. Add to that that I have no close friends of my own, and you see where I'm headed.

Let's look at the downside. Everyone has those awful experiences or even whole days that they need to share with someone. It's nice to come home and unburden yourself to a spouse, parent, friend or even a dog. I do that on occasion, but think about it. Does it make you feel better? Maybe. But now you may have spread your contagious depression to your loved one. That person/animal probably feels worse now, especially if he or she can't help.

So who knows how to help? Who knows best what you need? Yes, both rhetorical questions. I can't tell you how many times I've cheered myself up. I've become good at it. I have a karaoke system in my basement that cost about $700 bucks, but it has saved me thousands in therapy. Fifteen minutes could save you....I feel like I've heard that before.

I've developed this insatiable ambition lately, because without friends or a partner it's too easy to become a davenport spud. Or futon tuber if you prefer. In the last month I've re-read Treasure Island, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (in original French...yeah, right), Moby Dick, Fahrenheit 451, White Fang and Ivahoe. Right now I am on chapter four of Vingt mille lieues sous les mers. Ok, it's Twenty-thousand Leagues Under the Sea, but doesn't the French title make me sound much smarter?

The best part about this solitary experience is that I feel better about myself. Surprisingly, for those of you who know me, you know that I am anything but anti-social. You may have heard my motto: Two's company, three's an audience. I interact with people on a daily basis. My daughter and I have a great relationship. But at the end of the day, I'm always there to greet me with a smile.

So don't cry for me, Argentina. The truth is I really like me. You should like you too. I encourage you to become your best friend. Be alone, but don't be lonely. Cherish these times you have with yourself. You won't be around forever, and neither will you.

Oh, and I started a blog, too.

Screw this

I wrote a beautiful poem and when I went to publish it, it dissappeared without saving. Technology sucks.

Living in a Material World

I do not understand greed. I have never been able to relate to it. I know it's the foundation of capitalism for so many, but I could never befriend Gordon Gecko. I guess my needs are too simple. I have no need for a power car, a power tie or power lunches. Not that there's anything wrong with those things. I just have no interest. That's not meant to sound condescending either. I'm not really sure why I'm like that.

Do you know what the happiest country on Earth is? Trust me, there is relevance. It's Denmark. In fact, Denmark has been named the happiest country on Earth for most of the last quarter century. Most of this is based on a study of 80,000 people conducted by a researcher at the University of Leicester in England.

Beyond the statistical data, researchers attempted to answer the why. ABC News also interviewed several Danes to get their take. It turns out that one of the factors is that they have no equivalent of the American Dream. They do not measure success by money or status. They are not lazy. Just content. Oh, there are other factors such as the homogeniety of their society, but contentment with what they have seems to be a driving force.

Keep in mind, Denmark has one of the highest tax rates in the world. Danes pay anywhere from 50 to 70 percent of their income in taxes. But they don't complain. Why? Because they pay zero for healthcare and zero  for higher education. The government also takes care of children and the elderly better than most. And because the tax rate is so high, a banker is likely to be paid about the same as an artist, so careers are driven by a true interest in the occupation. What a weird concept, huh?

I know what you're thinking. Denmark?? Weather?? Shouldn't someplace like Fiji or Jamaica be the happiest place on Earth? I guess feeling safe, content and taken care of trumps sunshine. The Danish word for it is tryghed, which roughly translates as "tucked in." It is also not a multi-religious or multi-ethnic country for the most part, so they don't have race or religion to fight over. They don't have much to fight over at all.

And what about the United States? Shouldn't the wealthiest, most powerful, most ubiquitous place be the happiest place on Earth? Not even close. The United States finished 23rd in 2007, and that was before the Great Recession hit. We're never going to change. Immigrants continue to arrive on a daily basis seeking that American Dream. Maybe to make room, I'll move to Denmark. First, I'll buy a parka.

Proverbial Neck on Proverbial Chopping Block

Too many of my friends are lamenting lately that there isn't enough controversy in my blogging. They say I'm too vanilla, that I try to get along with everyone, and I don't like stirring the pot. Actually, none of my friends said any of that. Actually, I don't have any friends. These are the voices in my head. Now those guys I can't get to shut up.

But let's just suppose for a moment that I wanted to be controversial. Let's suppose I have some very strong opinions that might shock, anger, outrage, and dare I say, repulse you. After all, no one pays attention to middle-of-the-road, moderate, mainstream people. Just look at the news. Headlines are incessantly grabbed by the squeaky wheels and the lunatic fringe. So without further ado, I am about to propel myself into the media and perhaps even the ubiquitous YouTube viralmania, by taking a stand. Feel free to disagree, but I will be virtually sticking my tongue out at you and waving my hands with my thumbs in my ears. I never really understood the meaning of that latter gesture, but it will most assuredly cut you to the quick.

1. I detest the security tabs and shrink wrap on DVDs. The inventor of that needs to be found and bound in same shrink wrap. Maybe if that person tried to get out of it, he/she would understand the frustration.
2. I don't like Star Wars. Any Star Wars, including sequels, prequels, Nyquils. I realize I may be the only male on the planet who was in the Star Wars demographic when the first one came out (males 12-24) who does not like this movie. I am more of a dialogue kind of guy, and without the constant barrage of photons and strange-costumed creatures, there isn't much of that. I hear the gasps.
3. Citizen Kane is not a good movie either (more gasping). I am well aware that it is No. 1 on many people's lists, but it's No. 2 on mine, and that's not a ranking. His sled being named Rosebud did not evoke a startling reaction from me. There are a lot of things going on in that movie that don't advance the story.
4. I hate onions, but love onion rings. You should hear the deafening silence at the BK drive through when I order a Whopper with no onions and onion rings. It's a texture thing. Put all the onion powder you want in my casserole; it will taste delicious. However, biting into that transparent skin is a lot like biting into a beetle wing for me.
5. I have never nor will never watch an episode of Law and Order (insert extension here). I may be a little jaded on this one because I covered law enforcement and the courts for many years as a reporter, so I can't suspend my disbelief when they badger and beat up a suspect and then let him go because he wasn't the one. I watched each one for about five minutes just to make sure I was correct in not liking them. I swear to you in each one there was a line about finding blood and semen in the victim's underwear. I'm fairly certain I was eating something each time I watched. I won't make that mistake again.

That's probably enough for you to consume in one sitting. I'm sure you have a migraine from all the head shaking and screaming, "What?"

Doppleganger

I was watching a trailer for the movie Bicentennial Man, in which Robin Williams plays a robot manservant. This is an underrated movie, by the way. It's one of those that's just fun and entertaining, which is all I ask for in a movie. In one particular scene, Williams' character Andrew is being aided to look more human by a robotic scientist. After the scientist removes the current shell that is Andrew's head, Andrew screams. When asked what's wrong by the scientist, Andrew exclaims, "I just saw the inner me."

True, it was meant for a laugh, but it makes a good topic for discussion. We all have an "inner me." Contained within that inner me are thoughts that we would never share with another human being. At least I hope that's the case, because I have many of those and it's terrifying to think that I'm alone in this. I'm not talking about those casual thoughts you have like "what a bitch" when someone cuts in front of you in line or is screaming at her kids. I know we all have those thoughts. I'm talking about the ones that, if shared, or worse acted upon, would help get you committed or incarcerated.

Unfortunately, I can't give you an example, because that would involve telling those deepest, darkest of secrets that I don't want anyone to know. What I want to know is, do you have those too? What I'm trying to ascertain is whether I have some inherent evil within me and I was just raised to develop an ethical conscience, or whether I am just normal. In other words, are there some of you out there that never have an evil thought and it is easy for you to be good, or do we all wrestle with the demons?  The Bible would have you believe the latter, because it mentions in several places that we are all sinners.

And if we all have these sinful thoughts, is that what leads to criminal and/or perverse activity? Are those people incapable of filtering those thoughts because of either bad upbringing or faulty synapses? I realize this has been the study of criminologists for years, but it fascinates me. Thanks to the advent of technology, George Orwell's big brother concept is a very real possibility. England already has cameras that patrol public activity.

I can't tell you how many times I've stopped myself and said, wow, if someone saw or heard me now or could read my mind I'd be in big trouble. Yes, sometimes I act out insane things or say things to myself I would never say in public. Occasionally, I have been caught talking to myself in a public restroom or even a grocery store when you think you're alone in an aisle. I usually try to cover by pretending I was singing, but it leads to some of the worst lyrics ever. But that happens to all of us, doesn't it?

I'm not looking for an answer today, or even a way to fix it. It just makes you wonder though, which is the real you? Let's face it. You attempt to hide all your neuroses from your friends, your dates, your kids and even your spouse. Eventually, your family is going to discover most of these and love you anyway. I'm just thankful I have the filter or the synapses firing properly. I don't think I would fare well in prison.

May the Bluebird of Happiness not Poop on You Today

I've taken a couple of days off to rejuvenate. Never fear. I am not getting lazy or throwing in the towel. I love the word rejuvenate. Roughly translated, it means to be young again. Would that we could all do that. I remember when I was in my twenties that someone asked my boss, who was in his fifties, what was the best time of his life. "Right now," he responded quickly. I believe he meant it.

Well into my fifties, I am not sure I can echo that sentiment. There are certainly things about me that are very different from a quarter century ago. I am infinitely wiser and much more appreciative of knowledge than I was in my twenties and thirties, and my work ethic has vastly improved. Sadly, my life situation doesn't allow for the possibilities I had back then. I was single until I was 32, and while I didn't piddle away those years, I could have done so much more with today's wisdom. I fully understand the sentiment of the talented and quotable George Bernard Shaw when he penned, "Youth is wasted on the young."

Remember those dreams you had when you were ten or so of how your life would turn out? How few of us realized those dreams. I doubt you dreamed being an accountant, an office manager, a real estate agent, or a car sales person. I can't tell you the countless times I've heard an interview with a celebrity or pro athlete who said, "I always knew I was going to be a star." What they don't understand is that for every one of them there are thousands who also thought they were going to be stars, but for one reason or another wound up on a different path.

If you think about it, those dreams set us up for an unhappy life. When you're a kid and you don't get what you want--candy, cookies, a new football, Malibu Barbie--you're naturally dissappointed. How much more magnified is that dissappointment when the desire is stretched over years and the failure is stretched over an even longer period.

So what is the point then? How can we expect to lead a happy life when our hopes are dashed so early and so permanently? Well, let's consider the obvious flaw in my logic that presumes career is the only thing that leads to a happy life. The things we didn't envision in our childhood were the little triumphs that would add to sometimes only fleeting moments of happiness, but happiness nonetheless. If I counted the major triumphs in my life, they are far outweighed by flops, failures and outright disasters.

That's why I've learned to savor the small triumphs. There are so many more of them and your imagination affords you the luxury of turning them into major triumphs. Happily ever after is the line we are fed by virtually every fairy tale we are read in our youth. A more appropriate and realistic ending might be: And they both lived extremely normal, mundane lives while experiencing brief moments of happiness from time to time. Now there's an expectation I can live up to.

Incidentally, my checkbook went AWOL yesterday for about 16 hours. My daughter found it underneath one of the couch cushions, after an exhaustive search by both of us. It's going to be a good day.

The Daughter Also Rises

I'm a little late today but I got it in under the wire. Glad I don't have an editor. Right now my daughter is downstairs baking a cake. We just finished a wonderful, healthy casserole that she made for dinner. She amazes me every single day of my life. I have two older ones who are amazing, too, but she is my baby. I have one more year left before she takes off for college so I want to devour every moment.

The sad thing is I don't see her that often now. That's normal. She's a teenager with a plethora of friends and she's always off hanging out somewhere. I wouldn't want it any other way. Frankly I'd be a little worried if she still wanted to go everywhere with daddy. It doesn't help when I miss her though. She's grown wise beyond her years in a few short months. She's cooking, cleaning her room, making her bed, watching what she eats, driving responsibly, reading constantly, sending in college applications, and managing her money. That's why I don't play the lottery. I already won.

There's no doubt that we grew closer after her mom died. We had to. How she handled that so well is still a mystery to me. It was because of her that I was able to keep it together. Now we have a new life--a second life. She put everything in perspective for me. Fate has been kicking sand in my face consistently for about seven or eight years now. I've had some awful things happen. Through all of it, she's the one thing that always makes me smile. I couldn't have built a better kid from a kit.

We talk about everything--yes, I said everything. There's no one else. Why wouldn't we? And still, every once in awhile, she doesn't mind having lunch or dinner with old dad, or even taking in a movie. I don't remember doing much of anything with my parents after I hit the teens. I left the house after school, returned for dinner (maybe) and went back out until dark. I never shared anything of importance with my parents. Sometimes I wish I could have.

If you have a child, if you are a child, if you know a child, if you plan on having a child, grab the gusto now. Sure, I know carpe diem and you only get one chance and live life now are all hackneyed phrases. So why don't we listen? Say something to your parent/child tonight that you have never said before. Break down the wall. If you're a parent, share your experiences and let them experience everything. I don't know much, but this I know with certainty. Sheltering doesn't work. Helicoptering doesn't work. Spying doesn't work Snooping doesn't work.

Trust works. Trust is rewarded. Trust is returned. When you trust your child, you're trusting in yourself. You're saying I've given you all the right tools to make the right decisions. That doesn't mean they always will. Did you make all the right decisions? None of us did. But we were less likely to keep making the same wrong decisions.

I'm going to hug my daughter tonight. I'm going to tell her I love her. She's going to look at me funny, because she won't know why and I don't do it often enough. I don't care. I don't want her on some therapist's couch years from now saying I'm here because my daddy never showed he cared for me. I'm taking a leap. Who knows? This might be the hug she remembers the next time she's in a jam and I'm not there to help her make the right decision. Parenting lasts forever.