Not Christmas, but Fall. And as I look out the window at the beginning of our Autumnal season I'm reminded of why this is one of the greatest seasons of the year.
And while many people think of it as the commencement of growth with the replacement of a slow death of warmth, leaves, and all things that bloom, fall represents much more. In my life, it has always represented change and a renewing of one's spirit.
As a lad, fall was our Christmas each and every year due to our religious beliefs. Biblically, we celebrated the promise of being rescued by God at the Apocalypse, Judgement Day, and finally Eternal Life. As most main stream Christian religions do not celebrate these Old Testament based "Holy Days", we were a little different, or you could just say "cultish". However, each fall, around this time of year, we would take a vacation usually to some sort of beach, give each other gifts, eat at a lot of nice restaurants, go to theme parks, and enjoy meeting new friends whilst becoming closer with our immediate families. Those religious holidays were known as "The Feast of Tabernacles", or quite simply, "The Feast". And the weather was always very crisp and clean. It's the kind of weather you wake up to at 7am and say, "Damn, let's get this day started, Yeehaw".
Our church's religious practices have changed from a "Fire and Brimstone" type religion to a more "Honor God with your Heart" based practice. Unfortunately the days of the "Feast" and other old testament based holidays have disappeared. However, the memories of such good times and spiritual renewal have stayed in place. In fact, my mom and I always call each other around this time and say, "It's Feast Weather".
Anchored with these special memories in my heart, the fall has continued to be special for me, and on my way to work this morning I was thinking that five years ago, was when I met my wife.
Five years ago was a different time for me in my life. I was incredibly immature, really hurt from a previous breakup, and my self confidence was quite shaky. However, after a brief attempt at stand up comedy during a presentation in graduate school, my future wife came up to me and said, "I just had to meet you after such a hilarious presentation".
And as I maintained the courage to man up, ask her out, and keep persevering to win her heart, the weather became "Feast weather".
It was autumn, and I'll never forget riding out to her farm to study and go horseback riding. That day was where we had our first kiss on her porch while we should have been studying. After we went horseback riding she came up to me, kissed me, and as I stood there shocked, she said, "I just wanted to do that". I'll never forget how special I felt. You see, at that time in my life I was so used to giving so much in relationships and never seeing such happy returns. I felt valued, and to the romantics out there, I felt in love.
And every fall, something new and cool usually happened. Fall 2004, the same time I met Meghan, the Red Sox ended their 86 year World Series drought. Fall, 2007, we bought our first house, and the Red Sox won the World Series again. Fall 2008, we raised our Puppy. Fall 2009, we have been married over a year and I keep falling in love with my wife each and every day just like 5 years ago when she introduced herself.
As a hedonist I find ways to celebrate just about everything about life because it's too damn short. And fall, well, it's another celebration. Raking leaves, jumping in them, carving pumpkins, getting drunk while carving pumpkins and then eating the burnt pumpkin seeds you conceptualized on cocktail number two or three (who's counting), Autumn festivals, harvest time for grapes, nice meals of your favorite comfort food because it's nice and cool outside, sleeping with the windows open and burrowing under the covers, the list goes on and on, and yours might differ...
but to me, it's the most wonderful time of the year.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Racist Facebook Patron
Facebook really has to go. Okay, well, maybe not, it has enabled us to reconnect with people we wondered whether or not they were dead or alive. But, you have to admit it has the ability to get a few people in trouble due to sharing too much information (myself included).
Honestly, what more is Facebook other than a quasi stalker friendly website allowing you to peak at other's lives as a comparison where you say, "Hey Meg, at least we have it better than this person".
I constantly find myself looking up old ex girlfriends and laughing at their bloated bodies, balding significant others, and litter of kids, then turning to my wife and saying, "Ha ha, look at them". And she echos..."You da shit Matty J".
Okay okay, maybe it's not literally like that, but it's damn close. Facebook makes me more and more of a hater of people. Sure it's okay to be curious of what people who you knew 10 years ago are still doing. But curiosity did kill the cat. And for that reason Facebook is not a good thing for vindictive assholes like myself who are still bitter over breakups from first grade. I openly write this with no qualms because I am not the only one.
Seriously, when you "reconnect" with folks on Facebook, do you all of a sudden go out to dinner with them, give them a call, start hanging out? Maybe, maayyyyyyybe 10% of the time.
I'll admit, we have reconnected with some folks and actually met in person. However, I'll stand to and abide by the opine that many of us use it as a voyeuristic way to watch the train wrecks of other's lives. It's like interactive reality television.
And to the subject of my post...I was called a racist one summer night because I suggested Obama was elected in part due to his color. In my opinion, the political climate was appropriate to elect anything more dissimilar to a white collar white silver spoon elitist Texan as possible. Throw in the fact that Obama is one of the greatest orators we have ever seen with a dash of charisma...point made.
Had he been a charismatic oratorically gifted white guy...I'm not sure if the results would be the same. Many young white people were sorry to be young and white. I myself feel guilty to be a young white male as I do tend to have it good. I hate our society for discriminating one due to their color, sex, or sexual preference. We all wanted to differ from the norm of white male. Obama was a way to say, "Change...and sorry my forefathers were racists". Unfortunately electing a black man didn't and will never erase the crimes that will perpetually exist against mankind.
Forget the tunnel vision of racism. Open your eyes more to the total vision that our world is a cruel cruel place where crimes against humanity happen every day. More and more I find myself veering back to my religious roots. In one way it's easy to question the idea of deity because so much wrong exists. In another way it's comforting to believe a deity exists, and a utopia will one day appear where everyone can be their potential and the suffering of horrible crimes against mankind will stop.
And I thought this was just a post about Facebook.
Honestly, what more is Facebook other than a quasi stalker friendly website allowing you to peak at other's lives as a comparison where you say, "Hey Meg, at least we have it better than this person".
I constantly find myself looking up old ex girlfriends and laughing at their bloated bodies, balding significant others, and litter of kids, then turning to my wife and saying, "Ha ha, look at them". And she echos..."You da shit Matty J".
Okay okay, maybe it's not literally like that, but it's damn close. Facebook makes me more and more of a hater of people. Sure it's okay to be curious of what people who you knew 10 years ago are still doing. But curiosity did kill the cat. And for that reason Facebook is not a good thing for vindictive assholes like myself who are still bitter over breakups from first grade. I openly write this with no qualms because I am not the only one.
Seriously, when you "reconnect" with folks on Facebook, do you all of a sudden go out to dinner with them, give them a call, start hanging out? Maybe, maayyyyyyybe 10% of the time.
I'll admit, we have reconnected with some folks and actually met in person. However, I'll stand to and abide by the opine that many of us use it as a voyeuristic way to watch the train wrecks of other's lives. It's like interactive reality television.
And to the subject of my post...I was called a racist one summer night because I suggested Obama was elected in part due to his color. In my opinion, the political climate was appropriate to elect anything more dissimilar to a white collar white silver spoon elitist Texan as possible. Throw in the fact that Obama is one of the greatest orators we have ever seen with a dash of charisma...point made.
Had he been a charismatic oratorically gifted white guy...I'm not sure if the results would be the same. Many young white people were sorry to be young and white. I myself feel guilty to be a young white male as I do tend to have it good. I hate our society for discriminating one due to their color, sex, or sexual preference. We all wanted to differ from the norm of white male. Obama was a way to say, "Change...and sorry my forefathers were racists". Unfortunately electing a black man didn't and will never erase the crimes that will perpetually exist against mankind.
Forget the tunnel vision of racism. Open your eyes more to the total vision that our world is a cruel cruel place where crimes against humanity happen every day. More and more I find myself veering back to my religious roots. In one way it's easy to question the idea of deity because so much wrong exists. In another way it's comforting to believe a deity exists, and a utopia will one day appear where everyone can be their potential and the suffering of horrible crimes against mankind will stop.
And I thought this was just a post about Facebook.
Regaining Ground
As the summer winds to a close I vow to pick up my blogs and write again. Honestly, I found blogging a bit of a fad, much like Facebook. Currently my Facebook posts have involved a fakeout of my bowel activities over the past 72 hours. I am thirty, and I am still laughing like an infantile 8th grader.
As a general lover of life and all things pleasurable (call me a hedonist), this summer was the best summer I have ever had. Meghan and I got a lot done with our home improvements, worked a ton, yet had a lot of time for cheap vacations with the in-laws. And as the summer draws to another dreadful close (at least the NFL and fantasy football is back), we see ourselves NOWHERE towards parenting a batch of little Mattys.
The end of a summer brings me to a bittersweet impasse of observations. Bittersweet because like much of life, I really don't know what to make of it other than observe and stay hopelessly positive about what we have at the here and now junction.
In no particular order:
1) The Baltimore Marathon is paused until next fall due to over training like an 18 year old at age 30. Lessons learned, yet I still fall into the pitfalls of persevering through the musculoskeletal woes of being thirty. Nonetheless I am still a svelte 169ish, and still proud to go "Skins" at the Redskins game due to the fact that it was "Damn Hot, that's why I took my shirt off"!
I will be registering for the Rock-n-Roll Marathon in Virginia Beach on St. Patty's Day. In my twenties I couldn't think of a better thing to do than get rip shit at some pub on St. Patty's Day. Now I'm planning to run 26.2 miles. My how things change.
2) My Grandpa Joe died unexpectedly in July. And I'm still not really sure how I feel about it. You see, it was a strange relationship as he was my father's step dad. Not to get too much into my fucked up family dynamics, my immediate family and I walked away from a side of the family who caused many years of psychological torment (let's say 3 years ago). We hadn't spoken to my grandfather in that length of time. To add more confusion to the pot of stinking dung, we only heard that Joe had cancer 2 days before he left us (Could they have at least Twittered us sooner?)
The tragedy on a personal level was watching my father go through such a tearing of heart strings. One day, I hope my epitaph reads, "Matty J, he was as good as his father".
Through all of the trial and tribulation my father has seen throughout his life, it killed him not to run back to his family to swoop in and be the rescuer he has always been. He's just that good of a person. Personally, he had just been shat on too many times. He couldn't fathom becoming involved again only to be hurt one more time. Picture a Gary Larson cartoon with a caveman walking into a cave with a sign that read, "Lion's Den" above the door. Yeah, this time the caveman learned to read the sign.
I can see my dad one day in heaven as the guy everyone wants to be around because his positive energy is just that damn contagious. Shoot, I see him as that right now. The pensive nature of death and dying this time around spurs me to emulate my father more and more. If there was a human living in the way Jesus wanted us to live, look no farther than my dad. I said it when I was 22, I'm still saying it now.
On the note of losing my grandpa Joe, it's so bittersweet. On one hand he was a physically and emotionally abusive alcoholic to many a people. I remember in 1997 when he kicked my grandmother out of the house because he was back on the booze. Yet, he mellowed, and when Meghan met him she thought he was the sweetest and cutest old man in the world. To be honest, he cleaned up his act the last 10 years of his life. But the scars of time do not necessarily heal such wounds. I find myself cautiously aloof and happy to be in Maryland as I too am tempted to jump back in the hot cesspool of bad family dynamics. I find myself speechless in a sad and sober manner.
3) I have been inspired to write a book. I haven't written a page. I have thought of a few ideas, but then I start working my two jobs, do some housework, and take a little time to relax with the Mrs and I forget about it. My inspiration is a single mother of two named Joan Lehman. We're too long into this blog to describe how damn cool I think she is. I just find it really neat that she has published her first book, she's an Emergency Medicine Physician, and well, she's left a really valuable impact on my life just in who she is and what she stands for.
It's been too long since I've blogged and though Facebook has gotten way too old with it's ridiculous updates and sissy ass fights over politics, parenting, and well anything you could write a snide comment about...I guess I'll try and blog some more. Until then, goodnight.
As a general lover of life and all things pleasurable (call me a hedonist), this summer was the best summer I have ever had. Meghan and I got a lot done with our home improvements, worked a ton, yet had a lot of time for cheap vacations with the in-laws. And as the summer draws to another dreadful close (at least the NFL and fantasy football is back), we see ourselves NOWHERE towards parenting a batch of little Mattys.
The end of a summer brings me to a bittersweet impasse of observations. Bittersweet because like much of life, I really don't know what to make of it other than observe and stay hopelessly positive about what we have at the here and now junction.
In no particular order:
1) The Baltimore Marathon is paused until next fall due to over training like an 18 year old at age 30. Lessons learned, yet I still fall into the pitfalls of persevering through the musculoskeletal woes of being thirty. Nonetheless I am still a svelte 169ish, and still proud to go "Skins" at the Redskins game due to the fact that it was "Damn Hot, that's why I took my shirt off"!
I will be registering for the Rock-n-Roll Marathon in Virginia Beach on St. Patty's Day. In my twenties I couldn't think of a better thing to do than get rip shit at some pub on St. Patty's Day. Now I'm planning to run 26.2 miles. My how things change.
2) My Grandpa Joe died unexpectedly in July. And I'm still not really sure how I feel about it. You see, it was a strange relationship as he was my father's step dad. Not to get too much into my fucked up family dynamics, my immediate family and I walked away from a side of the family who caused many years of psychological torment (let's say 3 years ago). We hadn't spoken to my grandfather in that length of time. To add more confusion to the pot of stinking dung, we only heard that Joe had cancer 2 days before he left us (Could they have at least Twittered us sooner?)
The tragedy on a personal level was watching my father go through such a tearing of heart strings. One day, I hope my epitaph reads, "Matty J, he was as good as his father".
Through all of the trial and tribulation my father has seen throughout his life, it killed him not to run back to his family to swoop in and be the rescuer he has always been. He's just that good of a person. Personally, he had just been shat on too many times. He couldn't fathom becoming involved again only to be hurt one more time. Picture a Gary Larson cartoon with a caveman walking into a cave with a sign that read, "Lion's Den" above the door. Yeah, this time the caveman learned to read the sign.
I can see my dad one day in heaven as the guy everyone wants to be around because his positive energy is just that damn contagious. Shoot, I see him as that right now. The pensive nature of death and dying this time around spurs me to emulate my father more and more. If there was a human living in the way Jesus wanted us to live, look no farther than my dad. I said it when I was 22, I'm still saying it now.
On the note of losing my grandpa Joe, it's so bittersweet. On one hand he was a physically and emotionally abusive alcoholic to many a people. I remember in 1997 when he kicked my grandmother out of the house because he was back on the booze. Yet, he mellowed, and when Meghan met him she thought he was the sweetest and cutest old man in the world. To be honest, he cleaned up his act the last 10 years of his life. But the scars of time do not necessarily heal such wounds. I find myself cautiously aloof and happy to be in Maryland as I too am tempted to jump back in the hot cesspool of bad family dynamics. I find myself speechless in a sad and sober manner.
3) I have been inspired to write a book. I haven't written a page. I have thought of a few ideas, but then I start working my two jobs, do some housework, and take a little time to relax with the Mrs and I forget about it. My inspiration is a single mother of two named Joan Lehman. We're too long into this blog to describe how damn cool I think she is. I just find it really neat that she has published her first book, she's an Emergency Medicine Physician, and well, she's left a really valuable impact on my life just in who she is and what she stands for.
It's been too long since I've blogged and though Facebook has gotten way too old with it's ridiculous updates and sissy ass fights over politics, parenting, and well anything you could write a snide comment about...I guess I'll try and blog some more. Until then, goodnight.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Pathetic
Folks:
This summer my blogging has become pathetic and non-existent.
In an effort to keep it pithy, I'll list our activities thus far.
1) Lost 13 pounds training for the upcoming Baltimore Marathon in October, 1o more weeks to go.
2) Gotten a great tan from places such as, "Assateague Island, Ocean City, Our Pool, The Bay, The Eastern Shore, and sooon to be Chincoteague Island".
3) Added on to our deck and have started to finalize plans to finish correcting our yard-drainage problem/landscaping issues.
4) Reunited with the Mayberry folks at Nick Freitag's wedding
Honestly, it's been a summer of avoiding work at all costs. We still have worked very hard and I still have two jobs, but I just feel every time I finish work, we're off traveling to some new place, even if it is as simple as catching up on a new "Food and Wine" Magazine at our pool. The second year of marriage has been sweet, and I've just not been able to be bothered regarding blogging.
Instead, I have had the epiphany to write a book. I'm toying with the idea, but once I become obsessed enough with the details, it will probably happen. Still haven't thought of a subject/storyline, but I'm just not into any hurry at this point. Summer is too short for us not to take advantage of living 2 minutes from the Chesapeake Bay, and 20 minutes from the Eastern Shore..oh and 2 hours from the ocean. Blogging and work can happen when it gets cold and when we have kids...
Speaking of kids, we both just can't imagine giving up our freedom of spontaneity at this moment. Maybe one day.
I'll blog more when I have the time, maybe some nice observations from all the traveling we did this summer...I think I have some stories...
This summer my blogging has become pathetic and non-existent.
In an effort to keep it pithy, I'll list our activities thus far.
1) Lost 13 pounds training for the upcoming Baltimore Marathon in October, 1o more weeks to go.
2) Gotten a great tan from places such as, "Assateague Island, Ocean City, Our Pool, The Bay, The Eastern Shore, and sooon to be Chincoteague Island".
3) Added on to our deck and have started to finalize plans to finish correcting our yard-drainage problem/landscaping issues.
4) Reunited with the Mayberry folks at Nick Freitag's wedding
Honestly, it's been a summer of avoiding work at all costs. We still have worked very hard and I still have two jobs, but I just feel every time I finish work, we're off traveling to some new place, even if it is as simple as catching up on a new "Food and Wine" Magazine at our pool. The second year of marriage has been sweet, and I've just not been able to be bothered regarding blogging.
Instead, I have had the epiphany to write a book. I'm toying with the idea, but once I become obsessed enough with the details, it will probably happen. Still haven't thought of a subject/storyline, but I'm just not into any hurry at this point. Summer is too short for us not to take advantage of living 2 minutes from the Chesapeake Bay, and 20 minutes from the Eastern Shore..oh and 2 hours from the ocean. Blogging and work can happen when it gets cold and when we have kids...
Speaking of kids, we both just can't imagine giving up our freedom of spontaneity at this moment. Maybe one day.
I'll blog more when I have the time, maybe some nice observations from all the traveling we did this summer...I think I have some stories...
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Big Papi Wants You!
I'll save everyone from the epistles of late. Instead, I'd like to give a few updates since it is once again the first of the month (Cue the Rap song by a bunch of miscreants about getting their welfare checks....honestly the song exists, I was and am still a fan of it, the artists are "Bone Thugs and Harmony").1) Learn to be more honest
This is a lifelong lesson I struggle with. I'm a "Yes" man, and I'd rather go out of my way to do something nice than create a potential rift of conflict. But, after a nice conversation with my father-in-law Mike, I resolved to at least try and tell it like it is.
Case in point...there is someone I know who is so full of shit all of the time, who hasn't done a lot with their lives personally, but finds it necessary to tell everyone else how to live. At one of these philosophical junctures, my friend said to the person, "You're so full of shit".
Those five words shut that person up, saved some excess Carbon Dioxide, and really honestly probably saved both the parties useless time spent on crap. I'm a pragmatist, it works, I think I'll try it.
2) MacBook
Fuck Microsoft, I decided to finally be the "Cool" kid on the block. Meghan and I are scrapping our PC's and Laptops and we went in on ONE brand new MacBook. Awesome, convenient, and to go with the theme, pragmatic.
3) Loseit
In my effort to finally confront my guilty eating habits, I downloaded "Loseit" from Apple. It's on my iPhone, and I get to count calories and exercise with a daily limit of what I can intake. Being that I'm ultra competitive, it's like a game...sorta like taxes..."Let's see how much I can win against the system today". Stay tune to how much I actually lose. My goal is roughly 6-10 pounds.
4) Marathon
I officially declare my plan to race in the Baltimore Running Festival this October. Five months is plenty time to procrastinate....er....train. Plus, it helps me with the aforementioned category. Meghan tried to feel guilted into training for the half marathon. However, I think she does better with cross-training. Not that she is a bad runner, but she HATES running. And her family has osteoarthritis like Michael Vick has debt. I don't want to help spur along my wife's ambulatory demise at an early age. She's too hot for a limp.
5) Birthday
Shout out to my pop, who's turning 54 in 3 days. Goddamn, can you believe it? Something to say about having a son when you're 24. I'm 30, not at all ready for a child. My dad keeps laughing saying, "You wont be able to chase your kids around because you'll be too old".
6) Big Papi
Last but not least, I bid a premature but appropriate melancholy farewell to David Ortiz, better known as "Big Papi". I love him dearly, he carried the Red Sox on his back during 2004 and 2007. However, it looks as if his career has come to an end. Yeah, he's still playing, but it's sad the way we watch his tired bones creak as he slowly hacks at pitches. His bat speed is nill. It's like watching my grandfather slipping into dementia, or your old dog with arthritis attempt to limp over to the tennis ball it used to fly to. No one wants them to go, we all hope that they turn it around. And to be honest, we'll all keep them around until it's time, but it's just sad to watch the end of an era, sad to watch that lovable spirit hurt so badly as time starts to pass them by.
It's a song and dance we all must wrestle with as we watch our loved ones slip away, and then we have to finally dance that dance ourselves. We have to be vigilant to enjoy our time now. It's too easy to never be satisfied and always want more. It's the double edged sword of living the American Dream. I want more money, I want to lose 10 pounds, and one day I want to live in a nice house somewhere on the water with a boat. But honestly, I have so much already living with student loans and a mortgage in the beginning of my career with a beautiful wife. Both of us are starting where everyone else does...square one.
The other night, my wife and I had steak outside on our porch at dusk, great music was playing, there was a slight breeze, and at that point in time there was nothing wrong with the world. Total perfection, two whole hours of it, not a want or a care, just an existance of satisfaction.
How many of us can find perfection within our day? It's so much easier to bitch about our "tough times" here in America, but really, are we constantly scrounging for food, are the readers of this blog moving their family from refugee camp to refugee camp? Did our houses get bombed, or did our village get pillaged by another tribe seeking genocide for their beliefs?
You can answer that yourself, but I profess we are mostly a nation of fat cats, spoiled and complacent, too worried about minimalist imperfections. Yeah, Big Papi is losing his swagger, he's the old dog who can't run to the ball anymore. And yeah, my grandfather is slowly slipping into the grips of dementia. Personally, it hurts to see one of my best buddies fail to remember who I am, or never really acknowledge my beautiful wife. But as my Aunt Ingrid said in her broken English (she now takes care of my grandfather in Sweden), "It's Life". And goddamnit she is right, it's not perfect. In these cases both parties have long ago reached their summits, but we still love them because there is no other way to feel.
As always thanks for indulging yourself in work avoidance for the day.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Dumbest Smart Kid I Know
Before I met Meghan, I dabbled more than once with many members of the opposite sex. Many say I was a man whore. More particularly, I was a kissing man whore. I could make out with chicks like it was 1950 at a drive in movie. And I was good too. Problem was, I was like a free clinic. It didn't matter your race, financial status, weight, or how attractive you were...I could hook you up. I took all callers finding the excuse of inner beauty and "personalty" for most of my customers.
If you meet anyone who knows me, they will let on that I'm a total pushover. My friend Samantha calls me a "Yes" man. And I'll admit, they're right. I HATE confrontation, and will do a lot to get out of it. It's a double edged sword as you can imagine. So, if I can say yes without causing injury to myself, even if the yes consists of me going out of my way to do something...sure, why not, life is short, I'll generally do it.
That's what makes me a genuinely good person. I like to people please, and I hate when people are upset. It's something I have to monitor because in the past I have put myself in harm's way just to make an unhappy person happy. However, through the school of hard knocks, I learned that people are generally happy or unhappy regardless of what you can do for them. But that took a long time and a few bad relationships to realize.
You see, I have that type of personality that is infectious. Think about it, I'm happy, I'm outgoing, and I'm damn handsome. The only problem, is I'm ultra sensitive to what people think about me. So, that can make me a little unsure of myself every now and then. Add that to the fact that I like to make people happy, step back and ask yourself...what type of people gravitate to a handsome, charming, yet sensitive guy?
Needy people...Yeah, that's right. And often times, those needy people are psycho. Put that together with the fact that my friends have said, "Matty would even hump that lamp post", and you have my list of ex-girlfriends. The problem is, needy people bring you down.
My coach in high school once said, "You're the dumbest smart kid I know". I took great offense, but looking back on my life's transgressions, you'd have to agree. You're talking to a guy who took two and a half years to break up with a girl who faked an abortion, threatened her own suicide at least five hundred times, and kicked in the headlight of my truck. That breakup took about twelve interventions from my best friends. All the while I was sustaining a 3.7 GPA. Enough said.
All the exes share similar breeding, or I guess similar articles of clothing...shoes...big shoes....ISSUES. Mommy, daddy, doggy, "No one loves me", shit, the list is endless. The problem is, they never really got better. You could make an argument about the last ex (we'll just call her "Dirty") not having as big of SHOES, but her own "Daddy" issues consumed her as well as her love for spending another man's cash.
Dating these mongoloids was depressing and exhausting. You see, they all saw me as their knight of hope. Shit, I was like Obama to them I guess. So instead of working out their own problems, they looked to me to fix them. And I was happy to help. You see, I guess I thought, "Keep being the nice guy, they can change, they'll get better, what would Jesus do"?.
What would Jesus do? Shit, that man would have tucked tail and run long before he caught a glimpse of them, that's what Jesus would do. But I was young and I thought I could change a person. I thought I was some kind of emotional healer. Honestly, these folks would have had better luck with a tarot card reader, or perhaps Dr. Phil.
In my effort to help the helpless, I never gave myself a shot to get something better. I guess I opened myself up too much to their own unhappy criticism. In order to stave off confrontation, I would always say "YES". Making them happy became my number one priority. Fearing the idea that I could disappoint someone coupled with my unquenchable desire to change someone for the better, I sold myself short and settled for many unhappy dating years. The evil cycle of rescuing with the false hope of change kept me doing what I was doing. In hindsight, I kept myself miserable.
And in my final epic relationship of CRAPTASTICNESS (Yes, it's a word), I finally realized my unhappiness (Shit, it only took 9 years of dating a million different people). So I decided against hiding my feelings, and shared my sentiments with my girlfriend "Dirty"(whom I was hoping to someday marry). My reward, "We should break up, I can't make you happy Matty". Gee, that was nice. A few months later, I found out she was shagging another guy all the while we were dating. That guy coincidentally was the "nice" bloke who offered to take me out drinking the day we broke up. Pour salt into the wound there and add a dash of, "They just got married", and you have irony.
But the veil of night is always followed by a ribbon of light at dawn. And you know by now, her name was Meghan. For whatever reason God put her in front of me, and I landed a date with her. She proceeded to take this wounded little fawn, nurse him back to health, and kick him in the balls by saying things like, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, be a man, let's go, stop worrying." Sprinkle in the fact that she appreciated me, found me totally hot (dammit all who wouldn't), and didn't have a laundry list of psych problems, I was done.
Finally, I had stopped scraping the bottom of the barrel. I had met my perfect match and I was happy. I had at last found an environment where I could grow as a person and didn't have to reconcile with a hopeless head case.
When I used to work at "America Restaurant", I had become friends with this guy named "Roy". And he said to me one day, "My 30s were my best years, not my 20s. You see, I was stupid then. In my 30s I still had my looks, but I had a clue about how the world worked...less mistakes, more payoff".
My addition to that statement would be the following...
"Back when I was in my teens and twenties, I thought I could change people, and I cared too much about what they saw in me. So that would get me down, I never gave myself enough credit, and always settled for the bottom of the barrel. I was stuck in a perpetual motion of dating shitty people because I thought I could change them. But in my mid twenties I found an angel, and somehow I decided to act right, and she kept me, now I'm 30 and I'm happily married....less mistakes, more payoff".
Shit, even the dumbest smart kid can finally learn to do something right.
Here's to you Roy.
One other thing, "Dirty" married that "nice" bloke for his money, and she spends a ton. Now that's JUSTICE with a capital J
If you meet anyone who knows me, they will let on that I'm a total pushover. My friend Samantha calls me a "Yes" man. And I'll admit, they're right. I HATE confrontation, and will do a lot to get out of it. It's a double edged sword as you can imagine. So, if I can say yes without causing injury to myself, even if the yes consists of me going out of my way to do something...sure, why not, life is short, I'll generally do it.
That's what makes me a genuinely good person. I like to people please, and I hate when people are upset. It's something I have to monitor because in the past I have put myself in harm's way just to make an unhappy person happy. However, through the school of hard knocks, I learned that people are generally happy or unhappy regardless of what you can do for them. But that took a long time and a few bad relationships to realize.
You see, I have that type of personality that is infectious. Think about it, I'm happy, I'm outgoing, and I'm damn handsome. The only problem, is I'm ultra sensitive to what people think about me. So, that can make me a little unsure of myself every now and then. Add that to the fact that I like to make people happy, step back and ask yourself...what type of people gravitate to a handsome, charming, yet sensitive guy?
Needy people...Yeah, that's right. And often times, those needy people are psycho. Put that together with the fact that my friends have said, "Matty would even hump that lamp post", and you have my list of ex-girlfriends. The problem is, needy people bring you down.
My coach in high school once said, "You're the dumbest smart kid I know". I took great offense, but looking back on my life's transgressions, you'd have to agree. You're talking to a guy who took two and a half years to break up with a girl who faked an abortion, threatened her own suicide at least five hundred times, and kicked in the headlight of my truck. That breakup took about twelve interventions from my best friends. All the while I was sustaining a 3.7 GPA. Enough said.
All the exes share similar breeding, or I guess similar articles of clothing...shoes...big shoes....ISSUES. Mommy, daddy, doggy, "No one loves me", shit, the list is endless. The problem is, they never really got better. You could make an argument about the last ex (we'll just call her "Dirty") not having as big of SHOES, but her own "Daddy" issues consumed her as well as her love for spending another man's cash.
Dating these mongoloids was depressing and exhausting. You see, they all saw me as their knight of hope. Shit, I was like Obama to them I guess. So instead of working out their own problems, they looked to me to fix them. And I was happy to help. You see, I guess I thought, "Keep being the nice guy, they can change, they'll get better, what would Jesus do"?.
What would Jesus do? Shit, that man would have tucked tail and run long before he caught a glimpse of them, that's what Jesus would do. But I was young and I thought I could change a person. I thought I was some kind of emotional healer. Honestly, these folks would have had better luck with a tarot card reader, or perhaps Dr. Phil.
In my effort to help the helpless, I never gave myself a shot to get something better. I guess I opened myself up too much to their own unhappy criticism. In order to stave off confrontation, I would always say "YES". Making them happy became my number one priority. Fearing the idea that I could disappoint someone coupled with my unquenchable desire to change someone for the better, I sold myself short and settled for many unhappy dating years. The evil cycle of rescuing with the false hope of change kept me doing what I was doing. In hindsight, I kept myself miserable.
And in my final epic relationship of CRAPTASTICNESS (Yes, it's a word), I finally realized my unhappiness (Shit, it only took 9 years of dating a million different people). So I decided against hiding my feelings, and shared my sentiments with my girlfriend "Dirty"(whom I was hoping to someday marry). My reward, "We should break up, I can't make you happy Matty". Gee, that was nice. A few months later, I found out she was shagging another guy all the while we were dating. That guy coincidentally was the "nice" bloke who offered to take me out drinking the day we broke up. Pour salt into the wound there and add a dash of, "They just got married", and you have irony.
But the veil of night is always followed by a ribbon of light at dawn. And you know by now, her name was Meghan. For whatever reason God put her in front of me, and I landed a date with her. She proceeded to take this wounded little fawn, nurse him back to health, and kick him in the balls by saying things like, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, be a man, let's go, stop worrying." Sprinkle in the fact that she appreciated me, found me totally hot (dammit all who wouldn't), and didn't have a laundry list of psych problems, I was done.
Finally, I had stopped scraping the bottom of the barrel. I had met my perfect match and I was happy. I had at last found an environment where I could grow as a person and didn't have to reconcile with a hopeless head case.
When I used to work at "America Restaurant", I had become friends with this guy named "Roy". And he said to me one day, "My 30s were my best years, not my 20s. You see, I was stupid then. In my 30s I still had my looks, but I had a clue about how the world worked...less mistakes, more payoff".
My addition to that statement would be the following...
"Back when I was in my teens and twenties, I thought I could change people, and I cared too much about what they saw in me. So that would get me down, I never gave myself enough credit, and always settled for the bottom of the barrel. I was stuck in a perpetual motion of dating shitty people because I thought I could change them. But in my mid twenties I found an angel, and somehow I decided to act right, and she kept me, now I'm 30 and I'm happily married....less mistakes, more payoff".
Shit, even the dumbest smart kid can finally learn to do something right.
Here's to you Roy.
One other thing, "Dirty" married that "nice" bloke for his money, and she spends a ton. Now that's JUSTICE with a capital J
The Difference Maker
Today has me wishing a melancholy goodbye to the man who was our dentist. Unfortunately, a battle with cancer took him way too soon, he was in his 40s. I felt like I knew the man all my life even though I didn't. He was just that personable. He could talk to anyone about anything knowledgeably, and was a staunch advocate for preventive medical dentistry.
You know how when you say, "Yeah so and so is a doctor, or lawyer, or mechanic", and you get that mental picture of what they look like? Our dentist was born to be a dentist. He just looked the part. A little disheveled, but not sloppy, a little nerdy, but not in a bad way. He could have never been a teacher, or mechanic...it just didn't fit him.
As campy as it sounds, he changed the way I clean my teeth by actually taking time to show me the right way to floss and brush. He did his own cleanings, x-rays, and of course whatever surgical procedure you needed. He was the first dentist who didn't just come in after the hygienist finished ripping out your gums and say, "Hmm, yep, ahem, well, we'll see you in 6 months Mr. Jacobs". His only assistant merely handed him some things and made you rinse that disgusting fluoride wash at the end of your session.
It's strange to write about someone I feel so close to, yet know nothing about. He was just one of those positive people who made differences in other people's lives. He was kind and extremely benevolent. I once heard a story that he married a lady from somewhere in South America, and then paid to have her immediate family sent to America so they could join the "American Dream" and not be separated.
Meghan and I would often joke about how long our dental appointments would last. Honestly, he'd take 90 minutes a piece cleaning your teeth, making you feel really bad you didn't floss correctly, and patiently review how to floss, brush, and do whatever you needed to to promote dental health. When I first started going to him, he started giving me discounts because I was a friend of Meghan (who had been going to him since she was a child). He understood I was a poor student without dental insurance. Later, when I had insurance, he still gave me courtesy discounts.
Funny enough, last summer we even snuck our dog into his office. I don't think he really knew we were going to do that, and I'm sure he wasn't psyched that his practice could get shut down if the health department found out. But his office assistant gave the green light and said, "Where is your wife?" I said, "Well, we brought our puppy and she's in the car keeping watch". "Oh, bring the dog, we'd love to see her, Dr. Orbach wont mind". The look on his face was priceless as our little Boston Terrier puppy came bounding past the waiting room door and started sniffing his crotch(I was at that moment having my gums ripped out). Of course we apologized and placed the dog in the empty waiting room. He just smiled and said, "She's a cute pup".
Meghan and I both work in a field where too many assholes live to see another day, beat another wife, and suck the life out of the taxpayers so they can keep living on welfare. And we see people just like our kind hearted dentist, die an untimely death. My farewell to Dr. Orbach is quite lonely for me, as most farewells often are. His death appropriately has me asking the question of why things happen the way they do to so many good people, and the not so good people get to keep living?
It's a faith shaking question, but the thoughts of everything good that he did, within his short window of life eases the unsteadiness of that question. To me, everyone is here to die but not everyone around us is here to make a positive difference. For whatever those positive differences are worth, what he did was worth quite a bit to me. And I guess I come to the epiphany that he wasn't on earth just to help people have better overall health through dental hygiene. He was here to make us all be better people, his craft was just the vessel he used to accomplish that feat.
You know how when you say, "Yeah so and so is a doctor, or lawyer, or mechanic", and you get that mental picture of what they look like? Our dentist was born to be a dentist. He just looked the part. A little disheveled, but not sloppy, a little nerdy, but not in a bad way. He could have never been a teacher, or mechanic...it just didn't fit him.
As campy as it sounds, he changed the way I clean my teeth by actually taking time to show me the right way to floss and brush. He did his own cleanings, x-rays, and of course whatever surgical procedure you needed. He was the first dentist who didn't just come in after the hygienist finished ripping out your gums and say, "Hmm, yep, ahem, well, we'll see you in 6 months Mr. Jacobs". His only assistant merely handed him some things and made you rinse that disgusting fluoride wash at the end of your session.
It's strange to write about someone I feel so close to, yet know nothing about. He was just one of those positive people who made differences in other people's lives. He was kind and extremely benevolent. I once heard a story that he married a lady from somewhere in South America, and then paid to have her immediate family sent to America so they could join the "American Dream" and not be separated.
Meghan and I would often joke about how long our dental appointments would last. Honestly, he'd take 90 minutes a piece cleaning your teeth, making you feel really bad you didn't floss correctly, and patiently review how to floss, brush, and do whatever you needed to to promote dental health. When I first started going to him, he started giving me discounts because I was a friend of Meghan (who had been going to him since she was a child). He understood I was a poor student without dental insurance. Later, when I had insurance, he still gave me courtesy discounts.
Funny enough, last summer we even snuck our dog into his office. I don't think he really knew we were going to do that, and I'm sure he wasn't psyched that his practice could get shut down if the health department found out. But his office assistant gave the green light and said, "Where is your wife?" I said, "Well, we brought our puppy and she's in the car keeping watch". "Oh, bring the dog, we'd love to see her, Dr. Orbach wont mind". The look on his face was priceless as our little Boston Terrier puppy came bounding past the waiting room door and started sniffing his crotch(I was at that moment having my gums ripped out). Of course we apologized and placed the dog in the empty waiting room. He just smiled and said, "She's a cute pup".
Meghan and I both work in a field where too many assholes live to see another day, beat another wife, and suck the life out of the taxpayers so they can keep living on welfare. And we see people just like our kind hearted dentist, die an untimely death. My farewell to Dr. Orbach is quite lonely for me, as most farewells often are. His death appropriately has me asking the question of why things happen the way they do to so many good people, and the not so good people get to keep living?
It's a faith shaking question, but the thoughts of everything good that he did, within his short window of life eases the unsteadiness of that question. To me, everyone is here to die but not everyone around us is here to make a positive difference. For whatever those positive differences are worth, what he did was worth quite a bit to me. And I guess I come to the epiphany that he wasn't on earth just to help people have better overall health through dental hygiene. He was here to make us all be better people, his craft was just the vessel he used to accomplish that feat.
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