Untitled. (I Didn’t Feel Like Thinking of One)

After years of waiting, no one came – Thom Yorke

Way back when, when the best years of my life were still thought to be in the not so distant future, anything seemed possible. The Rolling Stones were some old jokers even back then, and hearing them sing about how time was on their side, I thought time was going to be a friend to me too, well, at least be on my side or something. Little Orphan Annie was in on the time is your friend thing too. She sang about tomorrow, with all of this expectation and energy, and how she loved it, and it was only a day away. Things seemed possible, never mind the fact that I didn’t have any solid plan or any hint of one. Great songs do that, communicate an idea so effectively that you almost forget that, that beautiful and sunny tomorrow that Annie so deeply loved, will most likely be as shitty as today.

Today, tomorrow, the next day, they start to look and feel the same after a while. I wasn’t unlike most people who thought they could grab the world by the tail and do what I wanted. I did things my own way and I did them at my own pace. My pace, despite a relatively consistent punctuality, could be characterized, as one job performance review put it, lacking urgency. Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans right? The plans, ideas, and dreams that I once held so closely, and thought so much about, sat in Father Time’s waiting room, hoping to get cleared to participate in the big dance.

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Save my seat.

I’m only posting this because I hate a neglected blog. And by my definition, a neglected blog is a blog that doesn’t have a post every month. Oddly enough, I have been writing, just not anything appropriate for this space.

But more is coming, (not that you care, or have noticed the lack of production, or even read this dusty corner of the worldwide webs) I can say that. So as a treat, I linked up this ranking of the best minivans as of 2012. I just want to say, I’m surprised the Grand Caravan isn’t ranked higher, and I would drive any of the top six, except the Kia Sedona. Also, even if the Nissan Quest is ranked number one, it’s easily the ugliest minivan on the market.

Thanks for stopping by.

A Day In the Life, November 28th, 2012 (pt. 1)

https://i2.wp.com/www.jazz.com/assets/2008/1/2/albumcoverWesMontgomery-ADayInTheLife.jpg

5:45 a.m. – Alarm sounds on my wife’s Blackberry every day at this time. It is an effective alarm because it is very loud. How loud is it? Loud enough to be heard from downstairs. Guess who had to go downstairs and turn it off.

5:57 a.m. – In bed again. With no safety net (no snooze button, alarm fully disabled), the possibility of falling asleep and running behind is very real. The anxiety of finding underwear, uniforms and shoes, keeps me awake though.

6:07 a.m – Get out of the bed and wake The Rose. She’s autistic, and despite her many oddities, she’s actually the most obedient child we have. She went to sleep before dinner, so a bath is required.

6:20 a.m. – First child is dressed, and only her hair needs to be done. My wife, her mother, the slowest thing since molasses takes this task on. This process will last up until and possibly after the bus arrives.

6:33 a.m. – The bus arrives, and The Rose boards with no problem.

6:34 a.m. – Boil water for coffee and veg out for a few minutes. Vegging out basically means I check various social media streams while ogling local weather and/or traffic ladies on the morning news. (but don’t tell my wife about that last part, she doesn’t like that)

6:45 a.m. – Make and consume coffee.

6:57 a.m. – Say good bye to the wife as she heads off to her job.

7:00 a.m. – Wake up my oldest daughter.

7:15 a.m. – Check to make sure oldest daughter is out of the bed.

7:33 a.m. – Wait at the bus stop with the oldest daughter. Odd thing though, the bus arrives and my daughter gets out of the car as slow as possible. The bus has to clear a few cars parked on the side of the street in order to pull over to the curb. Once the bus passes my daughter, she starts walking back to the car. She opens the door and says something about getting written up for chasing the bus (which is bs btw), and I tell her to go and get on the bus because it is pulling over. She walks back, and sees the bus is still inching farther down the street to pull over, but she turns back towards the car again. Seeing enough of this foolishness, I let down the window, stick my head out, point at the bus and scream ‘GET ON THE BUS!’.

7:34 a.m. – Go to the grocery store to pick up breakfast and dinner stuffs.

8:31 a.m. – Take call from oldest daughter. She forgot her basketball gear for practice after school. Which means, I have to take it to her before I go to work.

8:40 a.m. – Quick clean up of the kitchen, while I prep breakfast for the trips and start meat sauce for the po’ mans pasta AT THE SAME DAMN TIME!

8:55 a.m. – Serve breakfast, turn on PBS, and finish up sauce.

9:00 a.m. – Sneak upstairs to move bowels, wash thine body and remove unwanted facial hair.

9:20 a.m. – Come back downstairs, watch Sesame Street with the kids and veg a little.

10:10 a.m. – Received a 3 messaged text detailing the in and outs of her lunch order. I put it on Instagram for reference.

10:37 a.m. – Leaves house.

10:45 a.m. – Arrive at daughters school to drop off gym bag. (second time this week with this nonsense)

10:56 a.m. – Head towards Potbelly’s for sandwiches.

11:23 a.m. – Arrive at the wife’s jay-oh. Drop off sandwiches, and exchange quick innuendo.

11:44 a.m. – Arrive at the jay-oh for a half-day’s shift.

I’m gonna stop here and make this a two-parter. This is way longer than I thought it would be, but whatevs, find out what happens next in Part Two.

I hate you (not really…..)

convert

You.  Not you specifically in the picture (no, your hair was blonde), but somebody like you.  You, with your designer sunshades and (blonde) hair  swirling in the wind in your ‘weekend’ convertible purchased with a good interest rate from the home equity loan.  You were probably going somewhere like Mitchell & Gold to get a new chaise or take your Macbook to get fixed at the Genius Bar or something.  Maybe you were on the way to your ranch, or to Austin or Galveston for the weekend. 

I was on the way to work when I saw you.  I was in the driver’s seat thinking about the first couple of steps from the car door to the front door and how I didn’t want to be that person I needed to be to function at work that day.  Then I saw you, driving your convertible.  I don’t recall you being especially attractive, but the weather was nice and you were driving a convertible (as you are allowed to do) and the shine of the sun and the wind in the hair will make the most mundane looking folks look and feel better than they actually are.  In my mind I might have even made your convertible a tad bit nicer than it was in order to project this notion that I had of you onto you. 

There I was, driving to the plantation.  There you were, driving to the promised land.  You may have been going to the plantation too.  But, in my mind you were going somewhere better than me and because of that I hated you.  Sure it was petty and small and I recognize and acknowledge that I might have been wrong about all of that.  But don’t get it twisted, I still hated you.