Tuesday, July 23, 2019

I'm Real. I'm A Man.


How fast can I write? I've never truly done more than 40 words a minute, and thinking
may slow me down more.... We're not transcribing anything, but we do have a writing
prompt. "Where are all the real men these days?" she asks..... 

I'm right here. Writing about well, myself. We get smacked down whenever we try to be
real with the objects of our desire. I know there's something out there called "The Rules
Girl" and that's from a book that was written what, last century? What are your rules for
a date? A better question is, what the fuck is a date? I don't even know anymore. 

Guys like myself believe we only get one or two chances to make a move on a woman,
and we want to meet real women as well. Back in the 80's there was the four F's mantra;
Find 'em, Feel 'em, Fuck 'em and Forget 'em. I'm not a 4th F kinda guy either. Maybe
that's why I take things slow. 

In front of God and everybody who cares to ask, I'll admit to having a healthy sex life,
however, I had two parents who loved each other and waited for each other before they
even had sex for the first time the night of their wedding. N years later, I was born, and
that's for you millennial types out there that aren't into nebulous and archaic math, a
foreign concept. I've written about my life elsewhere, and there may even be some links
on the right that will lead you to those stories, but this isn't about me really. 

I'm real. I waited a long time to have sex for the first time with something other than an
image I may have seen on either the big or small screen, or even in a magazine. Why?
Because that's what my parents did, and ultimately taught me. While all of my friends
were having fun with the various girl du jour, I was either at home learning, or playing
sports. I wasn't great at anything as I'm a lifetime asthmatic. Well, I was. I've been cured
despite what other doctors may tell you. 

I'm older and hopefully wiser, but I may be making the same mistakes I made in my
youth. Just because a girl likes me, doesn't mean she wants to have sex with me.
However, it will be fun to find out. 

A woman once told me I'd have to date her four or five times before we had sex, and
she'd pay for half of everything. Well, that's not how I was raised. The guy pays for
everything, and maybe gets lucky. Now between you and me and the gatepost, I've
never liked that term. However, Luck be a Lady tonight is a great song from a great
movie. 

So, the real men that are out here, there, or everywhere exist. The women out there may
have to look harder to find them. A better question might be, where are all the real
women that want a real guy? 

I don't have the answer to that one either, however, I do know that they exist as well.
I've even "dated" a few. But again, I don't know what happens on a date. I just know that
today's date is July 23, year of our Lord 2019.... 

So, this missive is taking longer than I have to create it, therefore I miss my public
transportation, and I get somewhere later than I should. Okay, no worries. I have that
ability. If I didn't live in a 30 unit apartment complex, I'd strip down naked and jump in
the pool. Maybe on the day I want to get evicted I'll do that. 

Actually, with the sentiments around here lately, that probably wouldn't happen.
However, the heater is broken. That's been another backwards thing in my life. We
should heat the pool in the months that it's not Summer, and turn it off during that time.
The sun heats the pool adequately for me most of the time anyways. 

The wool sweats are not a viable alternative to the swimsuit that I can't find buried deep
beneath the pile of clean clothes I have in the middle of my living room either. I'll
probably just end up taking a shower to make this happen. I'm already running late, and
it's not even a very important date. Yes, that's right, going to work has taken a backseat
to my career, which is eeking out a meager existence and allows me to type these words
that you may be reading today or tomorrow. 

So, in conclusion, a small town just outside Redondo Beach, what have we learned? A lot
about me, and the fact that I may have not even answered the question posed at the
beginning of this tome. Or is it a missive? Out of all the languages available, English is
my favorite, however, it's not what we speak anymore. I'll have to create a new word for
it; probably Merican. Some would use a u instead of the e.

So, to review; women are the object of my desire, and they're just out of reach, simply
because of the things that I have put forth or fifth out there. 

So, what happens on a date? You spend time together, and you get to know each other,
and hopefully nothing stupid happens and you get to see the woman again. She may
have already made a snap decision about what's going to happen on the date, and
there's outside factors that you can't possibly know about until such time as it may
already be too late. 

This has been my morning therapy brought to you by the fine folks that allow for morning
pages, or journaling.

Saturday, July 20, 2019

The Fear of MacBeth

Stay with me, as this one may go all over the place, however, the point to this post and everyone after it is simply thus: Why is it bad luck to say MacBeth?

A superstition that arose from before I was born, whenever that was, as lately, I'm telling people that I'm infinitely older than I actually am to prove a point, but to stay on topic, if you're on stage, you're not supposed to say, "MacBeth."

Now, as The Bard once wrote, "All the world's a stage, etc." in Act II Scene VII of As You Like it, maybe we're always performing, and therefore because of the above rule, we're never supposed to utter the forbidden name. Like Hitler. No one has that last name today because well, you know; Hitler.

There may not be anyone named MacBeth today either, but it shouldn't be considered bad luck simply to utter it. I don't know that I'm on stage, as right now as I write this, I'm an audience of one, as well as the original author. I may perform this at some point in my life, and that day may come soon, but for today, I say, "MacBeth!!!"

There's more research to be done, and links to link, and the need for other words said that will not be MacBeth. Forgot to put that one in quotes. #SorryNotSorry

Yes, we live in hashtag world now, however, I prefer the term octothorpe.  Tags are tags, and symbols are something else. I may have to tweet this link out later, and be assured that I will use the octothorpe #MacBeth!!!

Some may write it, "McBeth," but that would be wrong, as it definitely contains an "A."  Aside; A is the project that I should be working on, however, I'm writing this instead. I'll apologize for this one later but for now, I find I'm writing about well, you know by now....

Leave an appropriate comment below, and let me know why you think I should never say "MacBeth" again!!!!

72 and sunny in Redondo Beach. Adjust your expectations accordingly.


Saturday, January 19, 2019

Annual Remembrance


37 years ago today, well, you know what happened, and I've taken it upon myself to
write about it every time on this day. Loss such as this is permanent, however how I let it
affect me can change over time. Or can it? I'll never get to play another game of chess
with my father. I've already talked about how that has helped growing up, and here we
are 37 years later, and these are still good memories. 

The bad ones I don't want to write down, and I feel that's a disservice to my memories of
him, however they happened, and affected me deeply as well. I don't want to talk about
them, and I don't want to write them down either. It's probably possible to use those bad
memories and turn them into good ones, as the first time I went through the traumatic
brain injury cycle, their mantra was, "Laugh him out of it." 

Some would say this is a bad thing, and some might say otherwise. I don't know who
these people are either. My mother lived almost eight years after my father died, and
never remarried to honor her memory of him. I only have her stories that she told me
afterwards, and I truly only have memories of being at parties where I again was the only
child there, and hearing stories about how my parent's friends reacted to their stories as
well. 

Maybe Shakespeare had it right from the Scot's play; Let us sit upon the ground and tell
sad stories of the deaths of kings. Are we part of the Marlowe society? The theory being
that a sergeant in the king's army couldn't possibly be intelligent enough to write all of
those tomes during his lifetime. 

However, we've all seen Shakespeare in Love, or if we haven't, we should. It's a great
movie. It goes to the writing process without making it intrusive. He was writing to
entertain the unwashed masses, and maybe we as writers continue to do that to this day.
Ultimately any story is told from the point of view of the narrator, and his reactions to
the various events that he or she witnesses. The hero's journey is written as if the hero is in fact a heroine, as all the literature that I've taken in calls her, well, she. 

This isn't about me. 

However, it is about how I react all these years later, and about my upbringing. My parents basically told me no most of the time I wanted something, as they knew we couldn't afford it, and yet I have so many things now.

Someone once asked me if my father was a good man. I still answer yes to this question,
even though I haven't heard from this person in over a year. Maybe two at this point, as
I'm not truly counting, however as an earth sign, these things that happen to me are taken in slowly. 

My "ruling" planet is also Saturn, from where we get Saturday, which is today.  

Life, Death, Marriage, and Funerals. 

Celebrations of other's lives. How these events affect those that either witness them directly or hear about them indirectly may not ever be recorded and passed on by whomever shall read this.
The joke here is that 37 years later, there's a guy on The Rams with last name Shields,
with #37. I bought that jersey to use as costuming for special someones. I won't mention
their names here, however they should know who they are. If they don't, then they
might comment if I ever publish this. 

It has been published by the fact that you're reading this now, and even though this is
supposed to be private and unfiltered every day while at the same time being
spontaneous only states my need to get most of this out there.... 

Today I have a wedding to attend, and I will celebrate my need to honor my father by
performing magic if asked. We're asked to wear a costume, and I'm effectively going as
myself, however there's a character in the DC Universe that I look like. I just need to
swap out the white jacket for the midnight blue one, and I'll be good to go. 

I do have to remember that the right hand inside jacket pocket has a hole in it however. If
I put anything in there, I'll never get it back. So much for things being instantly reset!!!
I did, and do love my father. 

Frederick M. Shields died on this day in 1982. 

Here's to you, Dad!!!