Things are swell. Kids are good. I'm healthy, I think. Business is starting to grow. But my friend, Jeff, was here visiting last week. Back in 2007, Jeff and I took a blindfolded trip around Colorado right before I moved here from Missouri. We had no idea what we were doing, where we were going, or how it would end up. We listened to good music, solved the world's problems over tin cups of Scotch inside the pop-up camper, and caught a few trout. 12 years later, two kids apiece, a dozen more years of experience between us, here we are again. The places that Jeff and I traveled to back then are second nature to me nowadays. Back then, it was a total adventure. Now, it's a day trip whenever my wife can watch the kids on a Saturday. Cool thing is though, the West is full of places that introduce new adventure. So is the Midwest. So is the East, North, and South. Ripped barstools facing a weathered, dark wood bar. Coors Banquet on tap, perhaps. Colorful characters that clearly frequent here more than they do their own homes. They know you're from out of town and are skunk eyeing you, so might as well make friends...and keep your hand close to your knife. "Round of Banquets for these boys, please." Biscuits and gravy with green chili poured over top. Eggs over medium, please. Goddamn, that coffee hits the spot. Let's get a full belly before we go fishing...before we start drinking cold beer in an hour. How are the bathrooms here? This river looks too good to be true. Let's look this up....never mind, can't. No service. Fuck it, let's rig up and hit it. There's got to be fish in here. Watch out, man. There's a bear over there. See his giant head sticking out of the water? Let's move on upstream. Goddamn, she's a big girl. Cub with her, too. Good call. Check it out, man. Live music at the saloon tonight. Are there really still saloons? I'm thinking a glass or two of whisk and let's see where the night takes us. Good tunes, man. Uh oh, we're getting the skunk eye from those boogans over there. Shit, those are the boys from the bar the other night! Round of Banquets! Lot of windshield time. Lot of dust. Lot of tunes. Lot of reflecting. Lot of planing out and realizing what's true. And I guarantee, much more than the last excursion, lot of missing our families. But that's part of it. It's full circle. It's a restart...a need that fills a void...an adventure. Like we called it back then: It's the dream. And that's exactly what it feels like when it's happening...and also the memories when you get back to earth. Original pic from '07, before we knew what the hell was at the end of this road.
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I feel elderly. It doesn't matter if I work out at the gym or drink a half bottle of whisky, I feel about the same the next morning.
I'm convinced that much of it has to do with your mentality. Stress, anxiety, anger, and just plain curmudgeonism ages one. At least it does me. So I've been thinking hard, trying to come up with a drug and alcohol free way of curbing my sometimes extreme grumpiness. I've traced my mindset back to days of uncaring. Yes, that sounds harsh, but it has its benefits, and one might just be able to incorporate some of this mentality into ones responsible adult life. From ages 17ish to 30ish, I didn't give a flying fuck about much. Job sucks? Ok, I'll get another one. Makes my resume look bad? Don't care, I'll elaborate. Girlfriend is being terrible? Ok, I'll choose to be single for while. Things are starting to suck? Ok, let's throw a big party. My uncaring wasn't ridiculously excessive...in the sense that I caused harm to others or became a flat-out loser. I always had a job...just a bunch of them. I was always nice to people...just until they began to be stupid. This era of not caring is not to be braggadocious. I'm not trying to get accolades by this table setting. I'm just setting the table. Now I'm all growsed up and have an entirely different life than I did 15, 30 years ago. I have kids. I have a wife. I have real life responsibilities. I'm not very good at these real life responsibilities, but I do my best. I'm a pretty terrible adult, actually. But a responsible adult, nonetheless! So what can I do to subside all the curmudgeonism that comes with being a 45 year old me? Well, I can drink. That's a given. I can take medication. Not a fan. Or I can have a heart to heart with 45 year old me and 24 year old me (24 just sounded like a good age for me peaking at not giving a fuck). Fact is, I'm an old dad with two little kids. Aside from my little start-up BBQ business, keeping them alive is my primary duty. And it's not easy. Surprises me that keeping kids alive is so challenging. At any rate...heart to heart with current self and 24 year old self... I need to take a page from then and relearn how to not sweat the little stuff. If something ruffled my feathers when I was 24, I'd usually just shake it off. No harm. I don't really remember anything stressing me out back in those days. Hmmm..... Now that think about it, all my stress was treated with alcohol and/or medication. Or by driving my Schwann's truck up to my shitty rental house and loading my freezer with pizza, brats, and delicious ice cream novelties while Vinnie laughed hysterically. Or by setting fire to our rental house (another one) after getting evicted and running down a dark alley, laughing as the fire trucks show up. Or by...... Never mind. This exercise has taken a left turn. The reason I didn't sweat things when I was younger was because I was terrible. Awesome, but terrible. Things are different. I need to take a deep breath and do my best to raise my children right. Not saying my folks didn't raise me right...I did some terrible (awesome) things--but I'd prefer my kids not do that kind of shit. Ah, who am I kidding. I'll be in a nursing home by then. This post has gotten me absolutely nowhere. Time for a gin. ... |
AuthorI am Earl. Archives
May 2024
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