my fantasy team is better than yours
(part three)
i can't imagine that (m)any of you chose to retain any of my posts from this time last year referring to my fantasy football dominance. that's ok. i am here to remind you.
i went undefeated on everybody's ass.
i played humble as long as i could until the above referenced link, and i just couldn't contain myself after the deed was done. it was righteous. it was incredible. it was everything that i would've ever imagined. and it was good.
i had won fantasy titles before. heck, i had even been the way-superior team in the league before. but i had never gone undefeated. no one ever goes undefeated. at least, not in leagues that i've played in. but, i went undefeated. and i am here to remind you...
...because this year i will be terrible.
this isn't me lou holtz-ing my team immediately after the draft like my buddy whose names rhyme with miss and terry are wont to do (i've gotta get my shots in now, right cp? ;)). this isn't me setting my expectations low so that i will look ever the more glorious as i leap above and beyond them. this is me telling you that i don't usually believe in karma, but i so believe in karma when it comes to fantasy sports.
everything, and i mean everything, went my way last year. my draft position was perfect. all of my fliers worked out. my rookie running backs last year are all going to be top 10-15 picks this year. in the one game i was in jeopardy of losing, i won due to the "bench points" tie-breaker (only those that play know how ridiculously rare that is). and in the last game of the season, the championship game, my opponent mirrored my lowest point total of the year with his own, and i snuck to the title through the back door.
and, so it goes.
the buck has already began to stop. i've never drafted any lower than six in my league. late tonight, i will be drafting nine. i've only once ever drafted anything other than a running back with my first two picks (that year i finished 6-7 and got knocked out in the first round of the playoffs). at nine, there will be no "elite" backs available and i will be forced to adjust my tried and true strategy. do i take wide-receiver? that doesn't sound right. a top-two quarterback? well, that'd be nice...i guess. still doesn't feel right. my draft is going to be magnificent agony, for the entire hour and a half i will doubt myself and my picks. i am already preparing for the fall from last year's peak.
to be sure, i will still try very hard. harder and with more ferocity than any human should put into an online "game". and that effort will get me into the playoffs. that effort will keep me interested.
it just won't get me undefeated. or a title.
i love fantasy football.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
...a penny for your trash bag.
it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to us. far from it. after all, we had "enjoyed" eight and 1/3 innings of a live and in-person braves game from ridiculously good seats before the rains came. that, in and of itself, was reason enough to be happy and one with the world, irregardless of the fact that the braves only hit through six innings had come from their pitcher. yes, just being back at turner field for the first time in over a year should have been plenty to quench my soul given all that we, as a family, had been through over the last couple of months, and that doesn't even take into account the brick-headed move it was for bobby cox to leave javy vazquez in to face hanley ramirez after he was clearly gassed and give up what would be the game-deciding home run. just being there, with good food and good family, should've been enough for me to get over and past the things that didn't, exactly, go our way and drive home in a good mood.
but, of course, it wasn't.
oh, how i wished our "new normal" didn't feel, on friday night, so much like the old and selfish normal.
caroline had been sick the night before and into friday morning, putting the trip into jeopardy to begin with. around noon, we decided that she was in good enough health and spirits to make the trip. we hit atlanta, well, we hit atlanta traffic still in no rush or hurry, and caroline was holding up quite nicely. we made it to rebecca and emma's pad, and, aside from the traffic-related headache i had acquired, we were still rocking along. made it to turner field easily thanks to daniel (the british man's voice on the garmin), found our seats, and then things started to sour. caroline enjoyed running around the concourse of the stadium very much. being contained in mommy's lap or the ground directly in front of mommy or in a seat with emma? not so much. the braves, predictably, were terrible. the bobby cox thing happened. laroche cheered me up for half a second. and then the rain came. a lot of freaking rain. i began texting back and forth with katie to see if we had any chance of the rain breaking before we made the half-mile trek out to the car. we didn't. rebecca, following the lead of many others, pays a trash guy two bucks for four trash bags that we'll wear as ponchos. the plan is for me to carry caroline the half-mile in the rain with her blanket over her head. she'll have none of the blanket. two kind gentlemen notice this and offer their now priceless extra trash bag to us for caroline. i rip a head hole in the bag for her and put it on. and we march. and march. and march. caroline begins silly, sinks to sad and pathetic, and ends the journey to the car in misery. i am convinced that i have ripped my insides back open and decide to join her misery with my company. i get in the car, caroline on my lap, and we save sarah, rebecca and emma about 50 yards by driving to them. we all get in the car, laugh off the experience as something we'd never want to do again and head home. we get back to rebecca's place and drop them off, thank rebecca for the tickets and do not get out of the apartment complex before caroline vomits all over herself.
i.
shit.
you.
not.
it wasn't as much a straw that proverbially broke my back and spirit as it was the stench of cheese fries and ice cream (admittedly, probably poor choices for a two year-old trying to shake off a stomach virus. we were at a ballgame, though. whatareyougonnado???) mixed with stomach bile. i whirled the car back around, at this point fuming. i knocked on rebecca's door and asked for vomit towels at first, going back a second time to ask for a blanket for caroline to hold onto on the way home since hers had been soaked with the cheese-fry puke. we said our good-byes again, and headed back to birmingham.
on the road home, it rained. and rained. and rained harder. and then it rained some more. i would grow somewhat comfortable with our conditions and then, of course, would hydro-plane. is hydro-planing the worst effing feeling or what? in that brief millisecond, you are sure you are going to die. you have zero control. it is complete chance that your tires either will or will not regain traction before the car spins righteously out of control.
speaking of chance, i felt like job. satan, up in the heavens playing his own personal game of roulette with my and our stakes. land on red? ruin his silly baseball game. land on yellow? make someone in family feel as though it makes rational sense to pay a trash dude for trash bags. they will then wear the trash bags. land on white? oh, god, not white. cue the toddler vomit. and if i didn't mention it earlier, it was cheese-fry vomit.
and god would be like, "christ, satan! give the brother a break. he just wants to get home."
cue satan spinning the wheel of misfortune again. bwahahahahaha!
and so, sarah asks the inevitable question. "did you have fun?"
and i, like the dick that i am, gave the inevitable answer. "not really."
i would like to think that my "new normal" would prevent me from having these lapses in sanity (because, four days removed, i can see that i did have a good time), but i guess it doesn't. i said "not really" and then listed all the reasons above to her. she said hearing that made her sad, leaned back in her seat in silence and, immediately, i regained my positive perspective.
but it was too late. sarah had experienced everything above with me, and yet, she looked through it all and asked me if i had a good time, wanting to reassure me that she was glad that we shared the miserable experience together. i, on the other hand, wanted everyone to be as unhappy as i was. and that's too bad.
i suppose i could come up with any number of excuses as to why i reacted like such a boar. misplaced and mismanaged expectations, things of that nature. but they all would be just that. excuses.
post-cancer, i had a good week at work and spent the past two days telling everyone i could how great i was feeling. then, this morning, i backslid. i saw a mole in the shower that i had never noticed before, came downstairs, got on the internet, and began trying to convince myself that "the other shoe", the one that would actually "get" me, was going to be skin cancer.
for several days last week, i wasn't a dick. then friday night, with some of those i hold most dear around me, i backslid and was a dick to them.
i am going to be a better man eventually. i still have a lot of work to do.
dear lord, let me help you...
...help me.
it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to us. far from it. after all, we had "enjoyed" eight and 1/3 innings of a live and in-person braves game from ridiculously good seats before the rains came. that, in and of itself, was reason enough to be happy and one with the world, irregardless of the fact that the braves only hit through six innings had come from their pitcher. yes, just being back at turner field for the first time in over a year should have been plenty to quench my soul given all that we, as a family, had been through over the last couple of months, and that doesn't even take into account the brick-headed move it was for bobby cox to leave javy vazquez in to face hanley ramirez after he was clearly gassed and give up what would be the game-deciding home run. just being there, with good food and good family, should've been enough for me to get over and past the things that didn't, exactly, go our way and drive home in a good mood.
but, of course, it wasn't.
oh, how i wished our "new normal" didn't feel, on friday night, so much like the old and selfish normal.
caroline had been sick the night before and into friday morning, putting the trip into jeopardy to begin with. around noon, we decided that she was in good enough health and spirits to make the trip. we hit atlanta, well, we hit atlanta traffic still in no rush or hurry, and caroline was holding up quite nicely. we made it to rebecca and emma's pad, and, aside from the traffic-related headache i had acquired, we were still rocking along. made it to turner field easily thanks to daniel (the british man's voice on the garmin), found our seats, and then things started to sour. caroline enjoyed running around the concourse of the stadium very much. being contained in mommy's lap or the ground directly in front of mommy or in a seat with emma? not so much. the braves, predictably, were terrible. the bobby cox thing happened. laroche cheered me up for half a second. and then the rain came. a lot of freaking rain. i began texting back and forth with katie to see if we had any chance of the rain breaking before we made the half-mile trek out to the car. we didn't. rebecca, following the lead of many others, pays a trash guy two bucks for four trash bags that we'll wear as ponchos. the plan is for me to carry caroline the half-mile in the rain with her blanket over her head. she'll have none of the blanket. two kind gentlemen notice this and offer their now priceless extra trash bag to us for caroline. i rip a head hole in the bag for her and put it on. and we march. and march. and march. caroline begins silly, sinks to sad and pathetic, and ends the journey to the car in misery. i am convinced that i have ripped my insides back open and decide to join her misery with my company. i get in the car, caroline on my lap, and we save sarah, rebecca and emma about 50 yards by driving to them. we all get in the car, laugh off the experience as something we'd never want to do again and head home. we get back to rebecca's place and drop them off, thank rebecca for the tickets and do not get out of the apartment complex before caroline vomits all over herself.
i.
shit.
you.
not.
it wasn't as much a straw that proverbially broke my back and spirit as it was the stench of cheese fries and ice cream (admittedly, probably poor choices for a two year-old trying to shake off a stomach virus. we were at a ballgame, though. whatareyougonnado???) mixed with stomach bile. i whirled the car back around, at this point fuming. i knocked on rebecca's door and asked for vomit towels at first, going back a second time to ask for a blanket for caroline to hold onto on the way home since hers had been soaked with the cheese-fry puke. we said our good-byes again, and headed back to birmingham.
on the road home, it rained. and rained. and rained harder. and then it rained some more. i would grow somewhat comfortable with our conditions and then, of course, would hydro-plane. is hydro-planing the worst effing feeling or what? in that brief millisecond, you are sure you are going to die. you have zero control. it is complete chance that your tires either will or will not regain traction before the car spins righteously out of control.
speaking of chance, i felt like job. satan, up in the heavens playing his own personal game of roulette with my and our stakes. land on red? ruin his silly baseball game. land on yellow? make someone in family feel as though it makes rational sense to pay a trash dude for trash bags. they will then wear the trash bags. land on white? oh, god, not white. cue the toddler vomit. and if i didn't mention it earlier, it was cheese-fry vomit.
and god would be like, "christ, satan! give the brother a break. he just wants to get home."
cue satan spinning the wheel of misfortune again. bwahahahahaha!
and so, sarah asks the inevitable question. "did you have fun?"
and i, like the dick that i am, gave the inevitable answer. "not really."
i would like to think that my "new normal" would prevent me from having these lapses in sanity (because, four days removed, i can see that i did have a good time), but i guess it doesn't. i said "not really" and then listed all the reasons above to her. she said hearing that made her sad, leaned back in her seat in silence and, immediately, i regained my positive perspective.
but it was too late. sarah had experienced everything above with me, and yet, she looked through it all and asked me if i had a good time, wanting to reassure me that she was glad that we shared the miserable experience together. i, on the other hand, wanted everyone to be as unhappy as i was. and that's too bad.
i suppose i could come up with any number of excuses as to why i reacted like such a boar. misplaced and mismanaged expectations, things of that nature. but they all would be just that. excuses.
post-cancer, i had a good week at work and spent the past two days telling everyone i could how great i was feeling. then, this morning, i backslid. i saw a mole in the shower that i had never noticed before, came downstairs, got on the internet, and began trying to convince myself that "the other shoe", the one that would actually "get" me, was going to be skin cancer.
for several days last week, i wasn't a dick. then friday night, with some of those i hold most dear around me, i backslid and was a dick to them.
i am going to be a better man eventually. i still have a lot of work to do.
dear lord, let me help you...
...help me.
Monday, August 17, 2009
first day of school
(part two)
no, you are not mistaken. hannah did, in fact, start school last week. and, for that matter, caroline will be bumped up to her new class tomorrow. it was me that had that first day of school, queasy feeling as i headed into the store this morning.
i wasn't quite sure what to make of the feeling. lord knows that i am ready to get back into a routine that doesn't involve family feud being the highlight of my day (although, i do love me some feud!). i didn't ask for three weeks off. had i, the three weeks would have been spent doing something fun and i would've subtracted pain and inconvenience from the equation. i got the three weeks off anyway, though, and walking into the store felt exactly like i thought it would feel, like i had been gone for six months and not just almost one.
if i take a couple days in a row off or even go crazy and take a long weekend, the store suffers. that's not me tooting my own horn or me ragging on my staff. i love them all and they do great jobs most of the time. things just aren't quite the same or quite as efficient when i am not there. productivity dips. things are a little less straight. a little more finds its way through the cracks. driving in this morning, i think most of my anxiety was rooted in how much "we'll just wait 'til kevin gets back" that i would find.
i found plenty.
to be fair, the store didn't burn to the ground. my other managers stepped up in ways that my micro-managing self might not have allowed had i been around, and, in that regard, all parties, myself included, probably grew up a just little bit while i was away. it wasn't that i didn't trust them. it was that i trusted myself more. a flawed way of thinking, but my ways of thinking often are. no, the store didn't burn. not even close. there was some drama that'll have to be addressed (isn't there always?). some customers that were rubbed the wrong way (ditto). but nothing was broken that can't be fixed, and, boy, i do love fixing. fixing and hating the braves is what i do.
and so, tomorrow, there will be less to worry about. tomorrow will still be filled with "hey! welcome back!"'s, but i am ok with those. they make me feel warm. but tomorrow will feel more normal, and normal is something i've been searching for for a while now.
how normal at work will fit into our "new normal" will be decided as we get farther into things, but i am excited to find out.
and i am excited that think we've almost gotten past the point where every post here on HACAM feels like a diary entry.
not that there's anything wrong with that.
(part two)
no, you are not mistaken. hannah did, in fact, start school last week. and, for that matter, caroline will be bumped up to her new class tomorrow. it was me that had that first day of school, queasy feeling as i headed into the store this morning.
i wasn't quite sure what to make of the feeling. lord knows that i am ready to get back into a routine that doesn't involve family feud being the highlight of my day (although, i do love me some feud!). i didn't ask for three weeks off. had i, the three weeks would have been spent doing something fun and i would've subtracted pain and inconvenience from the equation. i got the three weeks off anyway, though, and walking into the store felt exactly like i thought it would feel, like i had been gone for six months and not just almost one.
if i take a couple days in a row off or even go crazy and take a long weekend, the store suffers. that's not me tooting my own horn or me ragging on my staff. i love them all and they do great jobs most of the time. things just aren't quite the same or quite as efficient when i am not there. productivity dips. things are a little less straight. a little more finds its way through the cracks. driving in this morning, i think most of my anxiety was rooted in how much "we'll just wait 'til kevin gets back" that i would find.
i found plenty.
to be fair, the store didn't burn to the ground. my other managers stepped up in ways that my micro-managing self might not have allowed had i been around, and, in that regard, all parties, myself included, probably grew up a just little bit while i was away. it wasn't that i didn't trust them. it was that i trusted myself more. a flawed way of thinking, but my ways of thinking often are. no, the store didn't burn. not even close. there was some drama that'll have to be addressed (isn't there always?). some customers that were rubbed the wrong way (ditto). but nothing was broken that can't be fixed, and, boy, i do love fixing. fixing and hating the braves is what i do.
and so, tomorrow, there will be less to worry about. tomorrow will still be filled with "hey! welcome back!"'s, but i am ok with those. they make me feel warm. but tomorrow will feel more normal, and normal is something i've been searching for for a while now.
how normal at work will fit into our "new normal" will be decided as we get farther into things, but i am excited to find out.
and i am excited that think we've almost gotten past the point where every post here on HACAM feels like a diary entry.
not that there's anything wrong with that.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
goddammit!!!
and with that expletive followed by my fist pounding the counter after the braves blew game one of their huge weekend series with the phillies, i may have just turned a corner.
i'll start back to work in a couple of days. monday, the 17th, would and will mark my return to what was and has been my normal routine for over three years now. but up until the braves reminded me why i hate them last night, i had been fairly nervous at the thought of getting back into the store. reason being, i haven't felt "right" yet, and i wasn't sure i ever would. since sarah went back to work last week, i've been trying every day to get up and about, trying to recondition my body into some semblance of shape knowing that it wouldn't be long before i had to actually earn a living again. and each day, i have been fighting a terrible feeling of dizziness mixed with headaches mixed with feeling "off" in such a way that it was really starting to freak me out. every night i would have an easy enough time falling asleep, but every night i would wake up sometime in between 2:00 and 3:00 in a panic. still waiting for the other shoe to drop, i would convince myself of all things terrible that could still be lurking in my body. i would scare myself with thoughts of how much or how little time i had left with my family. i went to the doctor this past wed. afternoon and told him my fears. he reassured me that, outside of the whole losing a kidney thing, my long-term prognosis was really good. he told me what i was feeling was normal. so did sarah. and sarah's dad. and kiker. and anyone else that bothered to hear me whine. but, what did they all know, right? they all had two kidneys. they weren't feeling what i felt. they couldn't possibly know what i was feeling, and they couldn't possibly tell me anything that would make my fears go away.
thursday night, sarah finally got fed up and dosed me with benadryl, hoping to drug me into a good night's rest. and it worked. and then yesterday, i wasn't quite as dizzy. i had a good daddy-day home with caroline (with a little help from amy and katie since i am, technically, not supposed to be lifting caroline yet). a good dinner with the family. and around 9:00, what do you know? i was cussing at the television again. for the first time in two months, i actually gave a damn about something other than myself. something trivial. something fun.
sure, i hate the braves. but, i love hating the braves. hating the braves is what i do. or used to do. until,...you know.
and so, maybe i turned a corner last night. or maybe i am setting myself up for a magnificent fall back to reality when the dizziness comes back in the morning.
either way, these last two days have been nice.
braves are tied 2-2 right now. they are going to lose. it's a matter of when, not if.
i hate the braves.
and with that expletive followed by my fist pounding the counter after the braves blew game one of their huge weekend series with the phillies, i may have just turned a corner.
i'll start back to work in a couple of days. monday, the 17th, would and will mark my return to what was and has been my normal routine for over three years now. but up until the braves reminded me why i hate them last night, i had been fairly nervous at the thought of getting back into the store. reason being, i haven't felt "right" yet, and i wasn't sure i ever would. since sarah went back to work last week, i've been trying every day to get up and about, trying to recondition my body into some semblance of shape knowing that it wouldn't be long before i had to actually earn a living again. and each day, i have been fighting a terrible feeling of dizziness mixed with headaches mixed with feeling "off" in such a way that it was really starting to freak me out. every night i would have an easy enough time falling asleep, but every night i would wake up sometime in between 2:00 and 3:00 in a panic. still waiting for the other shoe to drop, i would convince myself of all things terrible that could still be lurking in my body. i would scare myself with thoughts of how much or how little time i had left with my family. i went to the doctor this past wed. afternoon and told him my fears. he reassured me that, outside of the whole losing a kidney thing, my long-term prognosis was really good. he told me what i was feeling was normal. so did sarah. and sarah's dad. and kiker. and anyone else that bothered to hear me whine. but, what did they all know, right? they all had two kidneys. they weren't feeling what i felt. they couldn't possibly know what i was feeling, and they couldn't possibly tell me anything that would make my fears go away.
thursday night, sarah finally got fed up and dosed me with benadryl, hoping to drug me into a good night's rest. and it worked. and then yesterday, i wasn't quite as dizzy. i had a good daddy-day home with caroline (with a little help from amy and katie since i am, technically, not supposed to be lifting caroline yet). a good dinner with the family. and around 9:00, what do you know? i was cussing at the television again. for the first time in two months, i actually gave a damn about something other than myself. something trivial. something fun.
sure, i hate the braves. but, i love hating the braves. hating the braves is what i do. or used to do. until,...you know.
and so, maybe i turned a corner last night. or maybe i am setting myself up for a magnificent fall back to reality when the dizziness comes back in the morning.
either way, these last two days have been nice.
braves are tied 2-2 right now. they are going to lose. it's a matter of when, not if.
i hate the braves.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
first day of school
...i had another breakdown saturday afternoon. hannah and i were finishing up wall-e, wall-e and eve had just reconnected back on earth, and the same rush of emotion that struck while watching "the wedding dance" hit me again.
hannah was laying on top of me. i told her that i needed to get up. sarah looked up at me to see what i was up to. i looked at her, my eyes welled up, and it was over. i walked a couple of steps over to sarah and away from hannah, because i didn't want her to see me getting my blubbering idiot on. trying to contain the sobbing, some of the noises making their way out of me must have sounded like laughter. i remember hearing her ask sarah, "is daddy laughing?" i wasn't and, soon enough, she got the idea. a few minutes into the episode as i was beginning to compose myself, i felt something from behind me. hannah got up off the other couch, walked over to me, and covered me up with the blanket she had been using. i turned to her, tears still filling my eyes and held my arm out so that i could give her a big hug. the gesture, itself, would have been heartbreaking if my heart was not already broken. instead, in that moment, it was exactly what i needed to re-ground myself, compose and move forward with the day, the first order of business making sure i had not just scarred her for life.
...the surgery provided the reason"the out" that i needed to explain the emotional vomit away. we told her that my stomach was hurting and that seemed to ease her greater concerns. we threw in kung-fu panda and settled in for the rest of the afternoon. all in all, it was a weird day, but it turned out to be a really good day.
...this sweet-hearted, now truly big girl started school today. not "school" as we've defined it over the last four years. not daycare. not pre-k. elementary school, beginning with five year-old kindergarten. mrs. wells is her teacher. mrs. wells seems very nice and more than capable. mrs. wells seems to already be taken with hannah. no big surprise, right? look at that picture! she's just beautiful. but she's more than that. she's very smart. thoughtful. most of the time, reasonable. caring. she's a mobile "thin place" (that's for you, kathy). she's growing into being a wonderful big sister. and without hesitation or prompting saturday afternoon, she did what she could to take care of her daddy.
...i don't remember any of my first days of school. not one. definitely not kindergarten. i'll remember this one, though. i'll remember it and cherish it and attempt to dwell on it when the darker stuff tries to sneak in.
...hannah, i am so proud of you and how you handled this day. thank you for caring for me in ways you don't fully understand yet.
...i love you.
...(please forgive the spacing issues. grr, blogger!!)
Thursday, August 06, 2009
so long, spud jr.
to those that saw it (and marveled at his owner's neglect), it wasn't pretty. but in every way it was a carwreck, one that you couldn't take your eyes off of. and yet, monday, it was removed. the tumor/cyst/whateverthecrapitwas that my oldest cat had been carrying with him for many a year took a trip to the dumpster monday afternoon. spud's not speaking to reporters on the matter yet, but i think he's a more handsome cat for it. may it increase his and our quality of life for a while. you're welcome, spud, and i am sorry for being a horrible owner.
if working at psp has taught me anything, it is that pets are a magnificent distraction to their owner's lives in good ways and bad ways. and we need magnificent distractions. all of us do.
as i try and draw out of the haze of my last month and a half, i search for my next distraction. should i read more? take up walking? let andy talk me into one of his remaining adoptable puppies? play bunko? poker? buy a ps3 and spend the fall of 2009 hearkening back to the "good old days" when i wasted hundreds of hours of my life on madden and mvp? maybe i should let chip take me hunting, acquire the taste for "the kill" and tune in with nature while waiting around in the woods for my next helpless victim to fall prey to me and whatever i would name my gun...most likely "keyser soze". i need and am searching for something. i am open to suggestions. what do you think?
i am thinking about sacred cows.
i am thinking about pink elephants.
word of life the worship center.
huffman.
east lake.
what does it mean that trussville baptist looked around at schools that they could help and decided on chalkville elementary?
why did costa's bbq on chalkville mt. not work?
what are you searching for? i am looking for something tan-gi-ble.
magnificent distractions. tangents. detours. relative, to what? exactly. if working at psp has taught me anything, it's that ak-47's are overrated. it wasn't my life that flashed in front of my eyes that night. it was a dream. a facade. things that didn't matter and won't. it was alabama football and braves baseball and ribs and softball, because he was never going to shoot. at least, that's what i tell myself now.
looking down the barrel of that tumor, i didn't and don't see distractions. i did and do see sarah, and hannah and caroline and kiker and andy and my brother(s) and my family and my friends that i could go weeks without seeing or talking to but don't want to anymore. i saw what's now left of my church. i saw those that have made themselves happier by leaving us. and i saw that it was all good.
if what we talked about last night was what "you" are searching for, maybe we overextended ourselves in the 80's and 90's. and this today we are living in, this moment, this is the "course correction". maybe we became something perverted from the point. a show or a soap opera with a heart of gold and good intentions, but still a show. and this today, this moment, what if we are, only now, realizing the truth.
you are spinning (out of control) the truth, no?
possibly. i've never not been stupid. i've got to think this through. why remove the questions that seem uncomfortable before you make copies? i don't know. turn around.
magnificent distractions.
to those that saw it (and marveled at his owner's neglect), it wasn't pretty. but in every way it was a carwreck, one that you couldn't take your eyes off of. and yet, monday, it was removed. the tumor/cyst/whateverthecrapitwas that my oldest cat had been carrying with him for many a year took a trip to the dumpster monday afternoon. spud's not speaking to reporters on the matter yet, but i think he's a more handsome cat for it. may it increase his and our quality of life for a while. you're welcome, spud, and i am sorry for being a horrible owner.
if working at psp has taught me anything, it is that pets are a magnificent distraction to their owner's lives in good ways and bad ways. and we need magnificent distractions. all of us do.
as i try and draw out of the haze of my last month and a half, i search for my next distraction. should i read more? take up walking? let andy talk me into one of his remaining adoptable puppies? play bunko? poker? buy a ps3 and spend the fall of 2009 hearkening back to the "good old days" when i wasted hundreds of hours of my life on madden and mvp? maybe i should let chip take me hunting, acquire the taste for "the kill" and tune in with nature while waiting around in the woods for my next helpless victim to fall prey to me and whatever i would name my gun...most likely "keyser soze". i need and am searching for something. i am open to suggestions. what do you think?
i am thinking about sacred cows.
i am thinking about pink elephants.
huffman.
east lake.
what does it mean that trussville baptist looked around at schools that they could help and decided on chalkville elementary?
why did costa's bbq on chalkville mt. not work?
what are you searching for? i am looking for something tan-gi-ble.
magnificent distractions. tangents. detours. relative, to what? exactly. if working at psp has taught me anything, it's that ak-47's are overrated. it wasn't my life that flashed in front of my eyes that night. it was a dream. a facade. things that didn't matter and won't. it was alabama football and braves baseball and ribs and softball, because he was never going to shoot. at least, that's what i tell myself now.
looking down the barrel of that tumor, i didn't and don't see distractions. i did and do see sarah, and hannah and caroline and kiker and andy and my brother(s) and my family and my friends that i could go weeks without seeing or talking to but don't want to anymore. i saw what's now left of my church. i saw those that have made themselves happier by leaving us. and i saw that it was all good.
if what we talked about last night was what "you" are searching for, maybe we overextended ourselves in the 80's and 90's. and this today we are living in, this moment, this is the "course correction". maybe we became something perverted from the point. a show or a soap opera with a heart of gold and good intentions, but still a show. and this today, this moment, what if we are, only now, realizing the truth.
you are spinning (out of control) the truth, no?
possibly. i've never not been stupid. i've got to think this through. why remove the questions that seem uncomfortable before you make copies? i don't know. turn around.
magnificent distractions.
Monday, August 03, 2009
the "new normal"
i've spent an unhealthy amount of time in front of the computer on this, my first day of my "homebound" week. i've read many articles. digested, oh, so many columns. processed many pictures. and given myself a headache.
oh, and i also watched this again.
you've seen it. it's the wedding party entering in to chris brown's "forever". i don't know where i was, actually, that linked to it, but i went and watched the whole thing over again.
and i cried like a flipping baby. i am not talking about my eyes teared up at the joy that was seeing two people in love joining together with their friends to breathe new life into an old ceremony.
from about the 2:00 mark on, i was bawling. like someone i loved dearly had passed. and i have no idea why. maybe sarah or some other psycho-analyst can read the tea leaves and tell me what might have been going on in my head at the time. in my opinion, i was releasing...something. it felt kind of good. and kind of weird all at the same time.
goodness.
so, yeah. i think i am still coming to terms with the whole having "had" cancer thing.
i've spent an unhealthy amount of time in front of the computer on this, my first day of my "homebound" week. i've read many articles. digested, oh, so many columns. processed many pictures. and given myself a headache.
oh, and i also watched this again.
you've seen it. it's the wedding party entering in to chris brown's "forever". i don't know where i was, actually, that linked to it, but i went and watched the whole thing over again.
and i cried like a flipping baby. i am not talking about my eyes teared up at the joy that was seeing two people in love joining together with their friends to breathe new life into an old ceremony.
from about the 2:00 mark on, i was bawling. like someone i loved dearly had passed. and i have no idea why. maybe sarah or some other psycho-analyst can read the tea leaves and tell me what might have been going on in my head at the time. in my opinion, i was releasing...something. it felt kind of good. and kind of weird all at the same time.
goodness.
so, yeah. i think i am still coming to terms with the whole having "had" cancer thing.
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