Begin At The Beginning

I’m that Tired Guy. You know, the one who thinks he’s older than he really is after Life runs him over repeatedly. Kinda like the proverbial grape from Mr. Miyagi’s dose of wisdom to Daniel-san: “Walk on left side of road, ok. Walk on right side of road, ok. Walk in middle…[guttural gurgling sound]…squish, just like grape.”

Oh but I muddle onward.

Three marriages, one son and another on the way, and I muddle onward. I may be that grape, but apparently I don’t know how to quit. My name is a Greek word meaning “Rock.” Stubborn as, more like it than not. And I’m a Capricorn to boot!

I like to think of myself as an optimistic realist: I hope for the best, am quite positive about it, but know in my heart of hearts that my expectations are far more hopeful than the actual results. No matter how often I’ve been stomped into goo because I placed my trust in someone, attempted to solve a financial problem, met a girl and fell in like (love is so overrated sometimes…unless it’s with the right one…like Traci, for example…), oh the list goes on.

Oh yes, I’m babbling now. Remember, I’m that Tired Guy. The fellow who will undoubtedly toss as many 80s and 90s music and movie references into his future posts as often as possible…whether they apply to the ramblings or not.

What’s playing in the background you ask? Why it’s k.d. lang’s “Constant Craving”. She has such a tremendous set of pipes too. At times the melody is haunting, the kind that carries you along the peaks and valleys of her emotions and all you can do is hang on tight and hope you don’t fall away. It’s good stuff, and my description is hardly doing it justice.

Maybe a great magnet pulls
All souls toward truth
Or maybe it is life itself
That feeds wisdom
To its youth

Or maybe it’s a little sprinkle of both with a touch of emotion, a dash of experience and a pot full of irony?

Isn’t it the purpose of blogging to merely type what’s on your mind? After all, who is really going to read my drivel anyway?

Ok, I’ll probably read it. I’m such a narcissist when it comes to my own writing. I love the ebb and flow of how I craft a passage or paragraph. It’s my own form of musical composition, and it can be addictive when I hit the right groove. There’s a rhythm, a weft and weave only I can hear and it’s probably why I prefer music blathering in the background to help motivate and inspire me.

Another musical nugget that NONE of you will ever get:

Standing in the middle of nowhere
Wondering how to begin
Lost between tomorrow and yesterday
Between now and then
And now we’re back where we started
Here we go ’round again
Day after day I get up and I say
I better do it again!

Go ahead and Google that one. You probably don’t remember the song, but I do. My uncle bought me a t-shirt from that concert too. Oh how I miss the 80s…like a dog missing a fire hydrant, as a dear friend reminds me from time to time.

Full circle is a part of Life, right? I mean, Elton sang about it in one of my least favorite Disney movies. But I’m more interested in the irony…or the other message…the presence of experiences when combined in one long memory remind us that no matter how dumb the choices we’ve made…dammit those were OUR choices! And would we do it again differently?

Maybe.

If you had a time machine and could travel back to a period of time along your own lifeline, would you do it? Would you repair a wrong? Would you say the things to a loved one now long gone that you’ve always regretted you never got to say? Would you ask that girl to the prom rather than the other one (Believe me, this one used to haunt me for a long time)?

If we live our lives swamped by our own regrets, then I think the answer is a simple one.

But honestly, it’s never that simple.

Do I regret my life?

I used to…before I met the love of my life…and well before the light of my life came to us in February of 2008. Boy how I regretted my choices. Marrying young, ignoring the signs, letting my dreams wander away through laziness, fear, inaction. Marrying again, more fear, a useless desire to eradicate years of inadequacy only to discover it was all still there.

And finally, redemption in the form of an innocent email from a woman whose capacity for compassion is only surpassed by her love of a little guy curled up in his crib surrounded by stuffed sentinels and the security of a soft blanket.

I no longer regret my life. How could I?

Looking at my son I realize that every scar my soul bears, real or imagined, I would inflict upon myself again and again if I knew that Benjamin (and soon Noah) was at the end of it all.

(Remember, my wife warned all of you reading this that I’m long-winded. If you’ve survived this long…well let’s just say I have a lot more music left to play in the CD changer…kidding!!!)

I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to post in this blog space. Tonight, I’m contemplative. A few nights from now?

You can all blame my wife for hooking me into this blogging thing. If I actually keep up with it, toss out my pennies of wisdom…well that would be a first. You never know though…this could be contagious…and I’m sure there’s an ointment for the rash too but consult your doctor first just in case because, well, you never know…

Why a sandwich? Why not? If life were like a box of chocolates, we’d all be diabetics. A sandwich? A bit healthier at the end of the day…and maybe more satisfying.

Each post is like the next sandwich. I should’ve included some soup here…because…well…it’s soup…and…

Some of you get that. The rest of you will figure it out.

G’night folks.

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