Lava Lamp

Two weeks since my last post, and my mind is a ridiculous lava lamp.

I continue to feel less scattered, more integrated, which is a welcome relief. Feels healthy.  Announcing to myself that I can set comedy aside has allowed me to shed the weighty, negative feelings of isolation and regret that were jabbing at me.

What's ironic is that now that I feel stronger, I feel tempted to do more, including comedy! My April 7th comedy gig now includes an hour's stint on local morning radio; new opportunities like this seduce and excite my mercurially unreliable intellect. I have the technical ability to do websites, podcasts, live shows and more. How tempting it is to try; they are wonderful, exciting productions (and huge responsibilities to shoulder once my manic buzz is gone).  Agh! These bursts of optimism are most frustrating! As you can see I have trouble managing the rise and fall.  If you're a mental health professional, feel free to Comment.

I feel like I used to be more at peace with these things, finding ways to swim in the tide's ebb and flow, rejoicing successes more and regretting less the areas where I've "failed" myself. I'd like to return to that level of harmony one of these days. Maybe it's just a conscious decision to let myself off the hook. What a concept, to simply live in a joyful state of mind. I am suspicious of the idea that humans are built to do that, but it's excruciatingly tantalizing.

If I could clone myself, the first thing I would do is turn around and slap myself for these constant, jarring reversals of fortune. I will work more on loving myself for the silly human I am.

A great morning, short-lived

I ejected myself from bed this morning with the same reluctance that always occurs at 4:30 a.m., but I felt good. During my commute, I wrote a quick blog entry about gratitude for warm showers and hot coffee.

At the risk of announcing cynicism in the guise of self-awareness, I also recognized that this springlike feeling of effervescent ebullience always (always!) precedes an equal and swift downward shift in circumstance and/or mood, back to top-dead center. Sadly, I was right again: while the warm water held out, I had no sooner looked down adoringly at my travel mug than I realized it still contained the warm water with which I had rinsed and warmed it to prepare for said coffee.

I also pressed the "Back" link in my Blogger interface during the entry of my post and without a blink, my post about gratitude was lost to the ages. No prompt of: "Are you sure you want to toss this post out like yesterday's garbage?" Just gone.

So in case you're wondering why my early morning non-prayer of thanks didn't include technology, it's because I wasn't feeling too grateful at the time.

Harumph!

The pleasure of anticipation

The first time I went to Paris, I spent weeks or even months planning the trip. I agonized over the air fares and hotel packages among different offers, and ran the numbers like a coked-out Accountant with OCD. I noodled over sights and how the Metro worked. Already a student of the language, I kicked my studies into a higher gear, and made a lot of progress.

Not long from now, I'll go again. The thought of returning was just as dream-like as the first time, right up until the time I booked the flight. At that moment, when it became real, a combination of events began churning into reality and quietly began to erode what I didn't realize were some of the best parts of the trip: the anticipation.

The run-up is the dance before the kiss, when all things are possible, a story not yet written. It's all potential: the dreamy, cartoonish whimsy where imagination and expectation meet, and jerk each other off. (Egads, what a jarringly crass turn of phrase. I think I'll keep it.)

As soon as I pulled the trigger on this little event, stuff started happening. Some pending items in my personal life, much like my trip, went from "someday" to "pretty frigging soon." My work life was much the same, taking a typically lax span of time and filling it with strife and tension. Even my stand up comedy life, deep in the drowsy doldrums, twitched and demanded attention.

In short, all the slack was pulled out of my line, and it was all I could do to hold on.

I had hoped to renew my love affair with the French language (which never should have lapsed). It's currently what I'd call "passable," but I wanted it to be so much better. I wanted to study art so that when I went to the Louvre and other museums, the things I'll see would have more meaning. I had hoped to scout out my sights online; for my last trip, I cyber-stalked cemeteries, streets and sights within an inch of their lives.

What will I see in Paris this time? I've barely put together a list, and even that was fairly flung together.

When will I see it? I hastily threw sights into a calendar like darts at a dartboard, and who knows if reality will reflect the slots I've chosen.

Where will I eat? I've got a wonderful book my wife bought for me, describing all sorts of restaurants there. I haven't read nearly enough of it.

I've barely been able to keep track of the paperwork I'll need to get on planes and trains involved in the plans I have cobbled together. I almost lost one of them this morning. My shit is not wired tight.

I feel sad and cheated that I haven't managed my time well in advance of the voyage. I've got to get a better mastery over the way the data is arranged in my noggin. I can do better than this.

...

Often, these blog posts give me perspective. The emotion I note here isn't the only one; sometimes, not even the dominant one. Still, it's useful to look back and see where my head was at, and that's reason enough to register my disappointment here.

So, on the bright side, I'm going to Paris, punk! If you had told me six months ago that I could go to Paris without a moment to plan, I'd have kissed you on the mouth and gotten on the plane. Things aren't so bad. I could happily sit on the street and consume cheese and wine and stare at the buildings and people and be as happy as a dog eating shit.

Here's to the happy dog!

Connecting the dots

It's funny where the little things will take you.

A Facebook pal of mine ran some app that tracks how many times he swore in his status updates. I left my own, two-word silly remark, and noticed that one of his entries that said: "Wierd shit: google your name and look in images..." It sounded sufficiently goofy, so I did it, and the first click was ThomasBickle.blogspot.com.

The last entry was from 2008; I figured it was another neglected blog, lost to the ages. Then I see in the upper-right corner: "How Thomas is Bashing a Big Bad Brain Tumor." "Oh, no, some guy has a similar affliction to my brother's," I think to myself. Then I realized that the child's photos that are plastered all over this thing are those of a little boy who didn't survive his condition. The last post, entitled: "How This Story Ends," is headed with "Sad News." the description of this little boy's last day is sweet and heartbreaking.

I've sat here for a time, trying to think of something to write. I've got nothing, except affection for this little boy, sadness for his family and a bottomless well of rage for the unfairness of life.

It's all ca-ca

I'm feeling really down today, defeated. Yesterday was a lot of effort just to get what used to be the status quo back into sight, just on the horizon. Efforts that should have yielded a sense of accomplishment instead generated only frustration and misery.

Today things aren't much better. These feelings rarely last, but they always return. I'm still searching for an effective and appropriate way to handle them. My last method, throwing furniture and destroying my own property, were less than ideal.

Currently, I simply stew in impotent contempt for the entire planet and everyonethinginonit. And drink beer. It's not the ideal method, but it's what we've got today.

See you tomorrow.

We friends again?

As so often happens, I found a way through my frustrating dilemma just as my weapons were loaded and unsheathed.

It's fixed, and I feel better. I need to find something easier to do that doesn't involve stupid electric boxes...

Success, failure, rage and wasted DVD's

The last day or two have been pretty good, whether it shows or not. I have been cleaning things up, fixing things, and it gives my soul an erection for two reasons: the homestead looks better as a result (aligning more closely with what I consider to be the correct state of being), and I live for a feeling of accomplishment.

Today, all that came to and end, and despite my best, and I mean my best efforts, the day has hit the wall as far as accomplishment is concerned. I am frustrated at every effort. I am trying not to take it personally, as one of my biggest disappointments was that Nero Express 3 wouldn't burn a DVD for me, but would happily destroy blank DVD after blank DVD in the attempt, chewing them up and spitting them out like a digital wood-chipper. It is comforting to me that it's not my failing that the damned program is boning the dog, it's the program that can't seal the deal. Even so, it is painfully disappointing that I can't complete a simple task, for which I apparently have the hardware, software and skill. That it won't occur makes me feel as if I am an orphan of reality, for whom the laws that I have come to live by have suddenly been repealed. The sun has taken the day off, and the morning sky is carelessly, even spitefully, dark.

It's more than DVD burning. I am learning not to be stubborn when things don't go my way, but it's tough. For the first 25 years of my life, it has seemed a virtue to put my head down, grit my teeth and plug away all the harder when results aren't what you require. Tenacity was the watchword, but I am learning there is more to determination than obstinacy, but I am slow to learn, slow even to realize things aren't working and it's time to slow down and pay attention long enough to take a lesson.

So today, I am shutting down the machinery early in the cycle of crashing into the wall of unsuccess. Put the (figurative) knife down, and back away, before I do something I can't undo: break material goods, hurt someone's feelings, etc.

And so, deeply I breathe, slowly I move, and carefully I speak, before I bite off a head or lash out.