Thursday, May 24, 2012

Selfishness and Misery

My existence has been built on two things, selfishness and misery. I really can't remember life without them. I've always wanted my own stuff and I thought sharing was kind of weird. I've dealt with some kind of physical or emotional pain (mostly physical) for as long as I can remember. Both have worked together to make me the strong American male that I am today.

Here's how it started.

Christmas turned me into a greedy kid that wanted things that weren't affordable. I never wanted to share my food with my family (who bought the food). If the group or family wanted to do something, I would most likely complain or do something on my own. I never liked getting my hands dirty. That was for the others. A lot of bitching and whining went on in those early years.

The virtue of selfishness/self interest carried into adulthood. Ninety percent of the time I eat alone but I eat at places where I want to eat. I still hate compromising with people on restaurants. When eating alone you don't have to worry about sharing and I can make a pig of myself without caring who sees me. I can eat a lot, and I can eat fast.

If you know me, you know I'll talk about myself a lot. The only time I won't talk about myself is in the rare case someone more interesting is talking to me, OR, if I'm trying to run game on some chick with a low self-esteem. Yes, I may be quiet and polite while you're talking, but most of the time I'm thinking about my own cool shit that I got going on (unless someone's slipped me an "Ada-boy").

Selfishness can, I think often, evolve into an instant gratification mindset. And, well, this is what's happened to me. Sorry. I won't get into details, but I've made many decisions based on that approach. I can't say I regret any of them. My close friends know what I speak of.

I don't buy presents for anyone. That would mean less money for me, and less money for me to spend on myself in order to feel good.

I'm selfish, yes, and what's worse is, I'm an attention whore. It's why I "sing" in a band. Having people focus on the band, which people are most likely focusing on the great musicians in the band and not me, is the best feeling ever. I've convinced myself the crowd is focusing on me though, that's how sick and deluded I am. Hearing clapping after each song just feeds the ego. We've held the attention of some decent bar sized crowds.

To go with this selfishness, the Lord handed me chronic physical pain to last a lifetime. Nothing like repetitive sharp bone pain to really impact a boy's life. I learned about the wonders of pain pills and occasional opiates since about third or forth grade. This ended a promising basketball and baseball career and has blessed with a funky look tibia from all the surgeries (this is why you will never see me in shorts-unless I'm banging you-don't hold your breath).

I still deal with this. In the scheme of things, I'm blessed to be dealing with this, as others have far worse shit than I have, but, since I'm selfish, as proven in the above paragraphs,so I will selfishly make my own health situation to be just as bad. You now see how these things go hand in hand. It's all part of it.

Aside from the pain in the lower leg, which is under control, I now have hip arthritis due to the bad bones I have. Woe is me. I have the brain of child and the body of an old man. It's why I walk funny. Most of this pain is under control due to BIG PHARMA, but I will have occasional sleepless nights if I forget to take meds. Meds that will eventually lead to digestive problems, if I don't have them now.

A great thing about both the selfishness and the pain is that they can both be masked. The selfishness by politeness, a soft voice, and a timid attitude. As bad as some make out the selfish vibe to be, it's far better than those who think they know what's best for you. A selfish man/woman cares only about self, and wants little to do with others, unless it could be of some benefit.

Pain can be hidden through good strong anti-inflammatory medication (with side effects) and other types of pills. If it gets really bad, one can just themselves away so no one has to see them go through the physical pain. I used to prefer to suffer alone, go into another room, and not have others see that shit. Like the shape of my lower leg, no one should have to see another person suffer (unless they are causing that person to suffer).

We'll get to emotional pain some other time.

<<This may be one of the most f#ckd blogs I've ever written. I hope it f#cked you up.>>

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Abusive Relationships

I've heard and seen too many abusive relationships to make me want to give a f###.

If you're like me, you're honest and open, and you'll feel genuine compassion towards someone, especially friends, who discuss their abusive relationships with you. Sadly, most of the people/friends that I've had conversations with have been women. You want to listen and be helpful and you never want to see anyone involved in that kind of thing, whether its physical or verbal. Mostly all, or all of the situations I've heard of have all been verbal or emotional.

So, you sit there, with your Boddingtons, or, sometimes a big jug of Green Jasmine Tea, if not an Asian Aloe beverage, and you hear all of this complaining. Most of the time you nod your head and say "yeah, uh, yeah" in the most sensitive way you know. Most of the time there is a distressed look on there face and sometimes you want to give them a hug. Well, I don't usually, I usually take a sterile neutered Germanic approach/vibe. You don't want to take advantage of the situation or otherwise you've opened up your own can of worms, which might turn out to be snakes. (Next thing you know, you're trying to find cat tranquilizers for "said" friend)

I've witnessed, what I've thought, to be some strong feminists become enslaved to some pretty ugly manipulative people. People that you wanted to admire for their strength and individualism (like me for instance) being turned into submissive, dare I say owned, weaklings is a sad thing to view, even from a distance.

Others vow they are done with the bullshit only run back like dependant puppy dogs. It might be one thing to become addicted a substances of sorts, something that is neutral, not alive, and won't judge, but to become so pathetic as to go back to someone who continuously insults and manipulates is really pretty insane. It's so common.

Let it be known, I'm not ranting because I'm a lonely "middle-aged" man with thinning hair. The above situations have served to make me quite a content single simpleton in my humble Main St. three room apartment. It also makes me quite happy for good friends who have successful relationships and marriages. You may not believe this, but I do root for people and individuals. You may not believe this, but I don't like being against anyone, unless they've given me good reasons.

For those though, whose stories are quite miserable and repetitive, it makes me not want to give a f###.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

Dead squirrel.

I usually have a window of time during the day. Sometimes not long enough to drive back home. So, often I will drive around the country side. Berks and Lebanon county have great scenic countrysides once you get off the highways.

I meandered around a new way today. Not exactly sure where I was going but enjoying the rolling hills, sunny skies and blessed weather. There were really grand things to see.

As I was coming down and around and up a little road in my Mazda, which handles really well by the way, I saw some action on the road. I wasn't sure if something was hit, dead or alive, as my vision picked some other movements frantically moving around this thing in the road. I got closer and I realized it was a dead squirrel that was probably freshly hit.

While a dead squirrel on the road is quite common, I was moved by a couple things as I stopped before the action. The "dead" animal was on his belly, not all that smashed into the road, I mean not like a pancake. Its eyes were wide open. It may have still barely been alive, but I doubt it.

What was even more sadly fascinating was that there must have been five or six squirrels going crazy around this scene. I clearly can't get inside the head of a little squirrel but I felt that they were experiencing an incredible of hopelessness. So hopeless, in fact, that they had lost their little minds and were moving senselessly. They probably wanted to help but couldn't. One of their own had been killed by an coming car.

Luckily, there was no one driving behind me, because I would've lost all awareness of it amidst this roadkill funeral. As it were, I stopped and waited for these little mourners to clear off of the road and into the trees. Maybe I was a mourner too. I've seen things die and it's never pretty. It's that universal empty expression that will appear on all of our faces at one time.

Another senseless squirrel homocide.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012


Great word.

For me it brings back memories. Memories/feelings, that have almost completely faded away.

Back in the 80's, as a child I was way more in touch with my roots. I knew little about the outside world and the wonders of Asian cuisine, which is by far, way more superior than our own. We ate what my mom cooked, which was good and hearty, but lacked in the spice and seasoning area. Stews, keilbasa, meatloaf, fried potatoes, many canned vegetables too. I'm thankful for this though as we did always have food on the table and this blandness lead me to search for other food approaches.

But the one thing that I see rarely today that really will stop me in my tracks is Braunschweiger. My stubborn, old, wise, angry, yet borderline crazy grandfather used to eat that shit on brown rye bread when our family lived with him. The substance, wikipedia calls "pork liverwurst" had/has the most strange grayish pink color and consistency and the smell was the strongest. For some reason my grandfather convinced me to eat it. I think it's cause I saw him eat it, and I was tryin' to man up.

I ate it, and I liked it. I liked it on brown rye bread, plain, with absolutely nothing on it. I remember it smelling horrible but that didn't stop me. I'd request it. I liked saying the word. For a short period of time I would bring it to school lunches. It stunk up everything and no one knew what the hell it was.

Something happened along the way and I stopped eating it. When it stopped coming into the house, I didn't miss it. I never thought I'd like to go back to it. I never had a craving.

Now I think it's absolutely disgusting and I'm curious as to how I held that stuff down.

Is this stuff still sold anywhere?