Hell of a Guy
You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life - Albert Camus

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Repent, The End is Nearing…

08/30/2011

Hallelujah!  There is just 155 days (or so, if my math is correct) to my final workday.  The decision is made, there is no further wavering to be done.  I have informed my boss and my decision is irrevocable.  Ta Da!!!

I did have to deal with some indecision, but only briefly.  The thought of continuing on is simply not tenable, not conscionable, and unacceptable.  That kind of sums it up simply with a nice bow on it.

Retirement mode has hit me and hit me hard.  I struggle to motivate myself to get the job done, and that is really something with which I have never had to contend with before.  It is tough to concentrate on the job, so I have to slap myself around from time to time.  Fortunately, I have people, good people that work for me and are self-motivators.

The world will not end on January 31st.  I know my company will continue to move forward, and its business will come back as the economy corrects itself (it always has), but it will just have to adjust to not having me around to muck (correct spelling) things up any longer.

So, here I sit counting down the days, “X-ing” each one off the calendar and doing a little dance as the number of days to go trickles down.  I just wish I could speed them up a little.

And that is all I have to say about that…

 
Wednesday, August 17, 2011

No Carne, Por Favor…

08/17/2011

August 11, 1995, exit 22 on I-68 near Grantsville, Maryland.  I was on my way home from The Nancy’s house in Grafton, WV, and I was getting hungry.  There aren’t many places to eat along I-68 in Western Maryland, so I flipped an imaginary coin and stopped in the only place to eat at this exit – a Burger King.

Prior to this day and about once each month I was getting what we all commonly refer to as a “stomach flu.”  Mine would manifest itself in the form of mild abdominal cramps at the start, and getting more intense over a eight to ten hour (maybe longer) period.  Most times this would culminate with me tossing whatever was in my stomach or just some dry heaves.  Gees!  I hope none of you are reading this at mealtime?  These episodes would then quickly subside after the cleansing.  I used to refer to this as my period because it happened just about every month for five or six years.

As I drove down the road at breakneck speed chowing down on a Whopper – made my way - and scoffing down French fries by the handful, that old familiar feeling began to come on.  I was about 220 miles from home, and by the time I pulled up to my condo in Richmond, VA some four hours later, I was doubled over with cramps, sick as a dog.  As I made my way into my house I decided the Whopper was the last meal with meat I would ever eat.

Fast forward sixteen years and here I sit having kept my promise to myself.  I have not intentionally eaten any critter – critter being animal flesh of any kind, no bovine, no porcine, no fowl, or no seafood.  Amazingly, to some of you shaking your heads thinking you could not give up meat, I must tell you I really have not missed it, and…I have not been ill (regurgitating) since August the 11th, 1995.  Yea me!

I do not call myself a vegetarian.  I just do not eat meat, but I have been known to knock down some eggs and I have a huge fondness for cheeses. 

Now having spewed all this BS for you, I have to confess to very recently telling my favorite local chef I will eat one of his meat meals if he get his dreadlocks cut off.  I didn’t think he would ever do it until his hair dragged the floor.  The joke it seems is on me, he has already made the decision to donate his hair to a group called Locks of Love.  I am Hoist in my own Petard, as it were. 

I will let you know how this episode in the life of “Hell of a Guy” turns out, but I ain’t looking forward this at all.  Me and my big mouth.

And that is all I have to say about that… 

 
Monday, August 15, 2011

In the Midst…

08/15/2011

The Nancy and I are sitting in the rockers on the front porch at The Farm in the “midst” of a thunder shower.  The gray sky occasionally emits a flash of lightning followed by a distant clap of thunder.  There is a discernible harmony in the falling rain, it is very soothing.  It smells good out here, refreshing. As I sit here I cannot help but reflect on how very lucky I am to live here, in this house, in this state, with this woman.

It wasn’t too very long ago I would not have said this, but oh how I thank the Universal Presence some of us refer to as God for this house, in this place, in this state, and this woman.  I am truly blessed.

Now I know my precious, youngest daughter will not understand or get this idea of the Universal Presence some of us refer to as God.  As I said, it wasn’t that long ago I would have denied any such thing as God, but there comes a time when even the most hardened of us have to realize we are a part of the Universal Presence.  I think Neale Donald Walsch explained it best for me in “Conversations with God.”  It’s a must read, as far as I am concerned.

As I sit here in this state of euphoria, most excellently termed “The Best Day Ever,” I have to wonder exactly how much of this I created for me.  You say, “What?”  Okay, I think this can be best explained this way.  About a thousand years ago when I was eight or nine I can remember going on a vacation a trip from Baltimore to Marshallberg, North Carolina.  As I sat with my arm extended out the window of my dad’s 1953 Plymouth station wagon, feeling rushing August air slip over and under hand.  As I stared out at the fields of corn rushing by I remember thinking the world around me and all that I saw was there just for me, something I created, a world that existed only as far as I could see.  I was the center of the universe (perhaps I still am).  Weird?  Well, maybe! 

I am not a bright guy.  I was a poor student (equates to lazy) and a college dropout, and, as previously stated, the consummate underachiever.  In 1983, having bummed around and muddled through nearly thirty-nine years of life, I woke up.  I created for me a good job with a great company.  One that would allow me to reach a six-figure income, far more than I ever should reached given my formative years as a lazy ass.  The operative word here is “created.”  I created this life for me.  In fact, I have always lived the life I created for me; I just didn’t take ownership of it.

You may have heard of the “Law of Attraction.”  It is nothing more than using your God-given talent to create what you want.  There are millions of books on the shelves telling you all kinds of ways to achieve what you want, to become who you want to be.  The simple fact is this; it is within each of us to get what we want when we want it.  The Nancy calls it “living in abundance.”  And she and I damn sure do.

And that is all I have to say about that…

 
Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Not Teaching Cursive…

08/10/2011

Are you kidding me?  What the hell is going on in our schools today?  How in world in this age of rapidly advancing technology could the goofballs who run our schools make a decision not to teach our children the fundamentals of cursive writing?  Are they crazy, lazy or just plain stupid?

Children today are being taught to be lazy.  The vast majority of them don’t read books, cannot do simple math calculations in their heads, cannot make change without some machine telling them an amount, certainly can’t do research without a computer, and now some whack-jobs want to eliminate cursive writing from the curriculum.  Please, give me a break?  This is the dumbest thing I have ever heard come out of our so-called caring educators.

If kids do not know cursive, how could they ever read things like our Constitution or Declaration of Independence?  How would they ever read anything that is handwritten?

Thirty years from now I may not be here.  My grandchildren may come across the journal I started in 1992.  At the time I made entries by hand in a notebook.  If the nutcase educators get their way, these kids may not be able to read my journal.  They may not be able to read the innermost thoughts or about my life. 

Do you recall Kevin Costner’s 1997 film “The Postman?”  “In 2013, global society collapses and nuclear war has crippled civilization, leaving only pockets of surviving communities.”  What if something like this should befall this country for real?  What will happen to our fundamentally undereducated, pampered young people?  They may not survive the ordeal without their TV, Game Boys, video games, laptops and cell phones.  These kids do not think outside the box any longer.  Logic is doomed.  Humanity, as we no it, will be doomed.

A plea to educators: teach the fundamentals first, and then the other bullshit.

And that is all I have to say about that…