Distress Sale

After an extended break from the blogosphere, I have returned to continue this online journal of life after politics. Since I last blogged - on my birthday, as a matter of fact - life, as we say on the campaign trail, has had its exhilarating highs and its soul-crushing lows. The universe continues to throw its interesting tests at me and needless to say, I've been failing more times than I've actually succeeded, dear reader.

I must first mention the loss of our beloved, Andy Griffith, the small town sheriff who showed us what compassion in the execution of the law really was, and of course, the man who gave shut-ins and alcoholics the thrilling excitement of slow-paced courtroom drama, before it was sexy Also answering death's eerie call was another one of the brother's Gibb, Robin Gibb of the Bee Gees.

Of course, the loss of our beloved talent isn't quite the reason I was compelled to write, this evening. After officially completing my first year back in the hallowed halls of higher learning, I find that fitting-in continues to pose a great challenge for me; along with heartbreak, but I'll get back to that. As I go about my day, I feel that I'm increasingly feeling the age gap - recent, heartbreaking reminders of my age haven't helped much -  I've found myself in this odd limbo-like reality that's truly worthy of Dante's pen - the deeper I venture, the more macabre it gets. It makes sense that as a single man, completely committing my time to completing two bachelor's degrees, would make an effort to not only assimilate, but attempt to make social connections with women.

Not so fast, says the universe.

Over the past year, I have indeed attempted to make a few connections - a few of which actually seemed quite promising, but I've discovered that chasing-down love is like chasing a mirage, for me anyway. I've always had a personal policy of avoiding opening myself up to people, especially women - I did once and it ended in a very bad, very public way, but that's another blog for another day. Of course we're all human and even the most stringent of personal policies can fall by the wayside when we're compelled by the right woman.

I recently had such an occurrence in which I dropped all of my barriers, and for the first time in a long time, allowed my personality and my heart to take over. For a time, it was quite magnificent; the constant thoughts and excitement of seeing her again as the morning alarm rang; the anticipation of waiting for her to walk into the building; the sleepless nights that seemed to last forever, as if the clock was taunting me - or perhaps it knew something that I didn't; the pounding in my chest and shaking in my limbs while we sat next to each other; I would work to steal a glance, now and then. Just as the bond began to feel strong and I began to feel comfortable about this unique woman that fortune had led me to, it all collapsed like a house of cards.

So, we all know how this love story ends, yes? Well in short, the guy doesn't get the girl. My stomach that was once filled with butterflies and excitement has been converted into an abandoned construction site with nothing but rusted nails and cheap boards; my heart - condemned. 

The wonderful and always insightful, Raymond Carver so accurately described falling in love as akin to being tortured by a war lord. "You're falling in love...to be stretched over the rack...to have unspeakable things committed against your person...you want to tell her everything."

In the big picture of life, I suppose I should appreciate the fact that, for one brief moment, I was able to open myself up enough to actually feel something for someone, on a deep level. I think we all want to feel wanted, loved and appreciated by someone who we feel the same for, but the effort in getting there is quite exhausting. For right now, I feel like all of my feelings are on display at a yard sale, half-off on the slightly damaged rack, in the back - prices are negotiable. 

It's been an interesting few days and as the saying goes, 'write what you know,' so that's what I've done. Thank you for your indulgence, fellow reader.

Choice Cocktail

Classic Manhattan

One part vemouth.

Five parts rye whiskey.

Stir well in a glass filled with ice.

Strain into a chilled martini glass.

Enjoy.

Repeat. 

This classic libation must go with ol' blue eyes, Frank Sinatra, because like the man said, "I'm feelin' so bad...play the music, easy and sad."

The Roads Most Traveled

The month of February finally vacated the pages of the calendar, though it left kicking and screaming. Although that evil month did indeed finally come to an end, it didn't leave before taking our beloved Davy Jones with it. Despite the trials and tribulations that February bestowed upon us, now is the time to look forward, in anticipation to sunnier skies and happier times. As I write this, I am in the middle of celebrating happier times (Charles Ponzi and I have a birthday today) and reflecting on the past.

I'm beginning to realize that as each year passes, the circle of people I define as "friends" gets smaller and smaller. This fact becomes most evident on birthdays and other similar celebratory occasions - - in which I find there are few people I look forward to spending my time with. I image that as time passes, we all see friends leave the reservation, new friends take their place, and if we're lucky, we find those rocks that are always there - - either physically or in our hearts and minds. 

I also find - - as I image most people do - -that I spend a significant amount of time on this day of my birth, reflecting on the past and those people that inhabited that past. Speaking as someone who's been single since about 1999 - - a time in which I awaited with baited breath for the impending doom and chaos of Y2K and the Spice Girls topped the charts - - so I can't really claim that my past is littered with the broken hearts of the women I've encountered, but it doesn't mean that I haven't loved my fair share. 

The women of my past all had their flaws - - the women of my present are of no exception - - but despite that, I can say that the few I loved will always be with me. One of my favorite writers recently wrote on this subject and went so far as to pen the following brilliance, "He loved the wrong women, or the right women at the wrong time." This gem is exactly how I feel about all the women of my past, but describes my present with even more precision.

The bright side about time is that people change and wounds heal, becoming what Machiavelli described as memories and waking-dreams. I can confidently say that I've changed over the years, hopefully that change has been more positive than negative in nature. So as I take a short break during my birthday merriness to pen this brief entry, I reflect on all those past / current loves and friends that are forever a part of me. Some of those can't be here with me either because of geography and others, because of circumstance.

All of those beautiful souls from my past influenced the person I am today, whether they know it or not. The path I've been traveling has brought me sorrow and joy while teaching me valuable lessons along the way. I strive to be a more caring, understanding, and open minded person. As I have reached the ripe ol' age of thirty-two today, I find it so important to express my love and appreciation for those people that leave indelible marks on my soul - - life is just not long enough to do otherwise. 

Now more than ever, I realize that we all carry around the baggage of life - - we are all but curbside valets to our experiences - - but it's that baggage that makes us the people we are. As the irrepressible James T. Kirk once expressed, "They're the things we carry around with us [our personal baggage]...if we lose them, we lose ourselves!"

So as I end this somewhat erratic blog post and return to my libations, I'll repeat and reflect on that wonderful sentiment, I've never loved the wrong women, rather the right women at the wrong times.       

Cocktail of the week(end):

Any well-made spirit that makes you happy!

The consumption of any beverage pairs very well with the musical philosophy of Neil Young. 

Happy weekend! 

    

   

Say Goodnight, Gracie

The month of February keeps chugging along, and in its wake lay death and mental destruction. Judging by the way this month has panned-out so far, this may be the longest lasting twenty-nine day period in recorded history. I'm starting to think that Punxsutawney, P.A may indeed be ground zero for something even more sinister and under-handed than I initially thought - unfolding in a very Machiavellian fashion.

Today is that evil of all evil days, Valentine's Day - a time we commemorate the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, among other things. As I write this post, sitting in the student union building at the university, I find myself surrounded by very perky sorority girls, decorating the building with tacky paper hearts, naked baby angels - which bring its own creepy vibe - and prepare their bake sale goods for the masses.   

On this day that signifies love, relationships, and Hallmark's spike in sales, I'm reminded of my favorite Raymond Carver story - the namesake of this simple blog - where he penned, "It ought to make us feel ashamed when we talk like we know what we're talking about when we talk about love."

Okay February, what other evil hath you wrought upon us?

The day "The Pope of Soul," Don Cornelius took his life set a dark, strange tone for the beginning of February. I would even venture to argue that his death, falling on the first of the month may have set an apocalyptic chain of events into motion. Although I never experienced the real-time effects on popular culture that Soul Train provided, its influence is evident in the broad range of music that I enjoy. 

Whitney Houston, like Cornelius, struggled with her own demons - although her melee played-out on a far more public stage - resulting in what we sadly know as the drug-induced antics of Whitney and Bobby. The day Whitney Houston got-together with Bobby Brown (and his infamous, cocaine laced marijuana) was the beginning of a very public, mental and physical deterioration for the greatest voice of her generation. Despite leaving the toxic environment that fame, addiction, and apparent self-loathing created, she was not able to recognize the truth of her reality; that failure killed her.

At one point not that long ago, I realized that the life path I had chosen was making me miserable beyond belief. I was working in a business that had lost its allure years earlier, but I felt trapped in a comport zone that I didn't know how to get out of. I began behaving in a way that created my own bubble of self-loathing and potential mental and spiritual destruction. Before I knew it, I had created a reality that can only be described as a dark wasteland - inhabited by dis-trust, backstabbing, and the crazy rantings and pontifications of senior citizens and arm chair quarterbacks.

So for now, I'm just going to attempt to get through the rest of this perilous month without falling into any more pits of distress. Of course, that will drag me into the month of March, signified in the great state of New Mexico by miserable, soul crushing winds, and my birthday - how fitting. 

As a side note, I was recently discussing my day of birth with someone who shares a birthday with Niccolo Machiavelli (which is too cool) and I told her that I don't share a day with any notable personalities - I was wrong. Upon deeper investigation - which in the 21st century boils down to a quick Google search - I discovered that I share a birthday with Charles Ponzi. Thanks for nothing, universe.

I don't know about you, dear reader, but I'm more than ready to bid goodnight, goodbye, and good-riddance to this month. February has its root in Latin and is roughly translated as purification, which I would take as a purging of all mental, physical, and spiritual negativity. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?

Valentine's Day cocktail of the week: 

Vodka Tonic

Half-fill a tall glass with ice. 

Add 2.5 ounces of Chopin Vodka.

Pour in 4 ounces of tonic water.

Garnish with a wedge of lime.

Enjoy. 

Repeat. 

This beautiful libation is absolutely best enjoyed to the lyrical poetry of Bob Dylan. 

Happy Tuesday!

Waiting for Mr. Fix-It

February has roared onto the scene with a fury of activity that all began with a rat and his shadow - not to be confused with Me and My Shadow.  

The month opened-up with news about the most over-exposed resident of Punxsutawney, PA, and his evil prophecy for the continuance of this bleak winter. He delivered this prophetic news to the throngs of on-lookers and shut-ins; watching from behind their iron-barred windows, no doubt surrounded by cats and stacks of old newspapers. How many of these adulating fans wouldn't hesitate to send ol'  Phil to his maker upon meeting him on a cold night, rummaging through their trash cans? Anyway, the scene culminates as a group of what I can only describe as 'a gaggle of Monopoly Men' - sporting tall, black top-hats and tails - crowd around the holy one for the highly sought-after photo-op. This is what I assume is pure Punxsutawney fun at its best.

Thinking about these events, I'm reminded of Bill Murray's (he's everywhere) beautiful description of this sight, "A thousand people freezing their butts off waiting to worship a rat." 

This is all interesting in that this fanfare played-out as the backdrop of my latest sidetrack. To be fair,  it wasn't so much the rat & company, but the timing of its appearance that I now associate with my moment of weakness. This moment led to a brief stint into the dark depths of my old ways.

I'm starting to realize that superficially judging people and drawing conclusions based on the actions of others is one of the characteristics I'm working to change about myself. During my days as a back-room dealer of what someone once angrily described as "half-truths," I found that contacting people was easy. The political world orbits around, among other things, the Blackberry, and the immediacy of communication that little miracle provides. This usually meant that when I sent someone a message, their response was in my inbox before I could shake a stick (which upon further reflection, I don't recall actually shaking a stick). However, I'm starting to learn that this mode of operation does not exist in the outside world - among normal people, that is.

Sometimes it's difficult to recognize that people work on their own timelines and we never really know what others may have going on in their life. While the eyes of the world were intently locked on that fat critter in Pennsylvania (that may be a bit over-dramatic), I found that I was upset over the fact that others weren't operating on my timeline. I felt that I had once again put myself "out there" and was upset that it wasn't unfolding the way I had anticipated. Well, as it usually does, the universe planted its boot right on my ass and forced me to realize that my perceptions were based on insecurity and selfishness. I now understand that my brain and my heart were not seeing eye-to-eye and that attempting to endlessly analyze people (especially the eternally perplexing mystery of women) isn't the journey I set out on; learning to be more understanding and tolerant is my goal. 

So the bus that I'm traveling on made a dramatic, if not brief detour into a ditch. After some deep reflection and conversation, I was able to recognize my stupidity - a process that I now fully embrace - and get back on track and ready to move forward. After all, we're all just people, right? 

As I leave that bitter dose of self-doubt, self-loathing, and Madonna's Super Bowl half-time show behind, I head straight into the Valentine's Day quagmire - a fun-filled day for single people everywhere.  

Cocktail of the week:

Mojito Sparkler

Fill a tall glass with ice.

Bruise 6 fresh mint leaves in the bottom.

Add 2 ounces of rum.

Sprinkle 1 teaspoon of fine sugar.

Top off with club soda.

1 wedge of lime. 

Enter the pearly gates.

This refreshing dose of heaven must be enjoyed to the sounds of Brian Wilson (the mad genius) and the Beach Boys.

Happy Tuesday!

Half-Off Days At The Asylum

As I round the bases on the third week of my second semester within these halls, I realize that I continue to learn interesting lessons. Some of these lessons have been like leaves, gently falling into my mind through a gentle breeze, delivering small realizations and tidbits of wisdom. Other lessons have been more like a kick to the gut, usually leaving me in bewilderment and shock - although both have been equally appreciated, if not equally delightful.

This week I've been thinking a lot about "modernity" and how this concept shapes our way of thinking and acting. The basic concept suggests that in this post-modern world, we have lost touch with our fellow human in exchange for those modern conveniences that we cling to.  Indeed, as I traverse the hallowed grounds of the university, I find myself surrounded by automatons - eyes glued to their so-called smart phones and blindly stumbling around campus while their cranked-up iPods blast the latest - did anyone say zombie apocalypse?

Witnessing this sea of technologically savvy, anti-social miscreants, one would think twice before attempting to engage anyone in human interaction. One full semester of sitting alone in the university library or the student union building, paralyzed by my own self-doubt was enough alone time for me. However, getting over the hurdle and putting myself "out-there" - a dreaded process worthy of song and drink - was not as easy as those episodes of Full House had me believe. Thanks for nothing, John Stamos.

So I packed away my self-doubt, raised my head high and plunged into the depths. Well, needless to say that my first few forays into this unknown were less than successful. This strange process that I decided to engage in was far more complicated and intimidating than I had initially anticipated. Approaching and getting-to-know interesting people - particularly women -  became so daunting that by last week, I was over it.

But this is supposed to be the year of big change, right? After many-an-hour of thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that I need to create the world I want to live in. If I find someone interesting, I'm going to get off my ass and do something about it - damn the consequences. I'm working to create a new life that's free from guilt, free from regret, and shed that insistent low self-esteem that tends to creep its ugly little head in. I'm done obsessing over what people think of me and I'm done with the tireless exercise of attempting to appear as if I know everything - I'm going to allow myself to look stupid every so often and embrace it when it comes along!

As the ever-wonderful, Bill Murray once shouted to his therapist, "I'm doin' the work! I'm baby steppin'! I'm not a slacker!"

With all this self-betterment I'm working on, I may not actually have to wait for that big sale at my local insane asylum. 

Cocktail of the Week

Classic Gin and Tonic.

Fill a chilled, 12 oz. glass with ice.

Pour 2 oz. of Bombay gin.

Top it off with tonic water.

A wedge of lemon & lime (the true secret to libation perfection).

Best enjoyed to the  musical perfection of Chet Baker.

Happy Tuesday! 

A Life In Denim

Why I've made the decision to enter the long-trodden road of the blogosphere - where no thought or tale-of-woe go untold.

I've been traveling the long road of change and growth over the past year, and dare I say, I'm currently working to find myself. This statement alone conjures images of overly-perky sorority girls, binge drinking to the musical selections of Lady Gaga and discovering their sexual side. Needless to say, dear reader, that's not quite the journey I have in mind for myself.

After nearly a decade of working within the realm of so-called conservative politics - more accurately, working as a political hit-man - I came to the realization that I remained unfulfilled. The endless barrage of direct mail that had to be created, campaign plans that had to be drafted, and my uncertain future between election cycles, coupled with the constant needs (and self-aggrandizing) of clients - while my personal needs were constantly on the back burner - finally became too much for my sanity (and my soul) to handle.

So, like many lost souls before me, I returned to the hallowed halls of higher education. It is within these halls that I hope to explore the inner-me, by opening myself to possibilities and new ideas - while hopefully working to atone for a lifetime of personal and professional sins.

I suppose the over-riding reason I decided to add my scribbles into the sea of personal journals, blogs, Tweets, and Facebook posts is simply, 'perspective'. So many times we (as in people) travel the road to better ourselves, yet somewhere during that journey, we lose our goal and forget what we set-out to accomplish in the first place. This blog will be my forum to document the personal goals I set for myself, and hopefully, keep me grounded. I feel like Doogie Howser, already!

The idea behind the name of my little corner of blogtopia.

During my first semester within the halls of knowledge (and my first sixteen weeks of self-exploration), I began to read the works of Raymond Carver (pictured in all of his glory, above). After reading my first Carver story (Menudo) I was hooked, and I haven't looked back. Carver's work speaks to me in a way that isn't flowery, or polite and he doesn't work to spin the truth about humanity. Carver exposes our inner-fears in a raw context, stripping away the glib to expose the dirt, hardship, and sadness of regular people. The works of Raymond Carver are exactly what I needed to help me begin this process. I never thought that a writer could touch me so much as to prompt so much personal change and inspiration.

As I began the process of creating this blog, I was reading Carver's "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." So the title of this little blog is my personal homage to Mr. Carver. It was Carver that helped me take my first step into the realm of change, and it's Carver that will provide my new personal motto, "This time, next year, things will be better."

As I exchanged my supple-leather brief case for a vinyl backpack, purchased at Wal-Mart's Back to School Sale – something I would describe as more of an extravaganza than a mere sale - it became evident that I was committed to this personal journey - the die had been cast. So, for the near future, I hope to keep my blog up to date, as to reflect on the constant (and sometimes overwhelming) changes that occur, navigating my new life in denim.

Salud!