Friday, March 4, 2011

A Voice Like The Last Day of Catholic School

Posted By on 03.04.11 at 07:27 PM

Wow! That guy from that one movie about those garbage men who find a dead body on their route really really came back in a big way. Remember that movie? It was the one guy from that other movie about the Cleveland Indians and it co-starred his brother who was in that movie about machines taking over the world. I think their dad, who was not in this particular piece of cinematic gold, played the president on a television series once and starred in a movie as a U.S. Army Private who was executed. Oh wait! The guy I am talking about was also in that movie! The one about the Private who faces execution, I mean. Looks like I already said he was executed, I really should have prefaced that with a 'spoiler alert!' but hey, you know who I am talking about, right? Anyway, the guy really seems to be enjoying everything right now, totally free from any and all confines, which in his case are the media, drugs, hookers, ex-wives, parties that last for weeks and feature more porn stars than the AVN Awards. Yeah, pretty insane to think that the things people block themselves from to carry on and build a life are the things he used to build and create his life, those things and a slew of pretty awesome films.

So now he has freed himself and has knocked down the foundation of his former life and is building a completely new one around 'winning.' That's more solid than building it around drugs, pay-to-play sex, and 7 gram rocks, though giant stones and concrete are certainly stable building foundation materials. I'm sure he can build a new life, too. It sounds hard but this guy doesn't have human blood, he has tiger blood and he also has extra terrestrial versions of a heart and a brain so he should be all good. I have seen some spaceships on the internet and those aliens can build some pretty impressive stuff. I just hope his work doesn't suffer.

I do have to agree with the guy...

...if you want something new and all sites and hopes are set to happiness (does it ever get better than winning? Don't we get pizza after the game if we win?) then you do have to knock down that once comfortable foundation and build again from the bottom up. Change your focus, sketch the final picture and keep it in your wallet or iPhone, leap out of your comfort zone (or discomfort zone as it turned out), and start building. Yeah, the labor can be hard and trying but that is what makes it worth while and if you are building in Chicago, then we have to start thinking about permits and unions but still, definitely worth it.

In a lot of cases it's not too difficult but it's a case by case, structure by structure situation, a lot of personal thought and details (after all, the end result is all yours right? Right.) A lot of realization, too, as that is how people come to find and exercise change and change you can use is always a plus. Even change you can't use is a plus so long as you pass it along to someone who could use it.

Rocks, stones, wood, cement, clay, stucco, shingles, tar, and there are probably like 5,000 other things to list as far as building a home but what would be the list for building a better life, sans tiger blood. Again, I am thinking that list would probably be like 5,000 things but top 5 right off the bat would be trust, sincerity, honesty, compassion, and consideration. Yeah, those sound good but you can change and add as many as you want as it is a personal list. Once started you can just keep on listing and listing, day by day, and just act and react based on the personal materials. General terms with personal meaning make up the blueprint and general interaction builds the life structure. Wow! That guy was right, it is really easy just to change your brain and I did that all without the help of ex-nannies, porn stars, and a Twitter feed.

On the downside, what happens if you don't do it or can't commit to it? Then the list and the steps you took just wind up being another in a long line of mistakes and you are right back in the rut, right back in the same shtick and the more you are sucked in the more useless it seems to fight it and you have then given up and have become overtaken by the dark side and all those other people in the world who are able to smile and be genuinely happy will look oh so ugly. The end result: loneliness, resentment and a long list of questions starting with "what if..."

Alright, so break patterns and step outside. Seriously, really step outside. It's like 50 degrees in Chicago and the confines of -20 degree air temps coupled with 2 foot snow piles are gone so the only bondage is self imposed instead of instituted by Mistress Nature. Break the chains and start setting up your own principles. No need to tune in and watch a train wreck, though, they are interesting so long as you can watch from a safe distance. Up close it's a little less entertaining and a bit more disturbing, yet still very fascinating. Oh yeah, one last thing to remember while you are out taking advantage of new found freedom: if you have done hard labor, like chain gang style not home building or life building, it is probably a very good idea to bring that up pretty early on in the relationship...

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Girl Meets Guy, Guy Already Met A Judge...


Bobby was a barkeep in West-West Lakeview and instantly attracted to me—not because I was drunk and wobbly, but because the first words he heard shrieked from my mouth were, “Robin Ventura makes my vag tingle!” Drunk and wobbly helped, but name-dropping a Gold Glove-third baseman in context with female anatomy was an auditory blow job.

I agreed to a date. He was Southern, gentlemanly, promised a romantic dinner. We agreed to meet at his bar beforehand. “Does he know you have an appointment?” his manager chuckled. I called to check. THE NUMBER YOU DIALED IS OUT OF SERVICE. “Have a beer,” his manager said. “He’s not coming.”

Let’s skip to the second-first date. Bobby’s explanation for snubbing—he forgot, as conveniently as he forgot to pay his phone bill. The next day I found myself squeezed between him and his friend in a cab en-route to Sluggers. His curious version of making amends included a third wheel and a venue sticky with jello and vomit.

What we had was a failure to communicate, so Bobby tried conversation. We got on the topic of Chicago politics. He commented, “Mayor Daley is so nice.”

“You know him?” I asked.

Friend stares icily. “Gonna tell her, Bobby?”

Bobby met Mayor Daley at a ribbon-cutting ceremony. Specifically, at the prison where he was serving time for selling heroin and forgery. “My Little Vacation,” is what he called incarceration. Bobby confused optimism with euphemisms.

It soon became obvious I was at Sluggers to play witness to the boys’ Home Run Derby. When it was time to leave, Bobby produced a surprisingly crisp wallet with nothing in it besides his ID. His friend and I split the bill for our second-first date.

I wish it ended there, but I minored in sociology and appreciated train wrecks. I stuck around for Bobby’s Big Move—his eviction—and Bobby’s Birthday—the night his roommate punched him in the face for committing fraud in his name. I don’t much date euphemisms these days because I'd be hard-pressed to find a better man.

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