Mental Raking

nos·tal·gi·a (nŏ-stāl'jə, nə-) Pronunciation Key
n.

1. A bittersweet longing for things, persons, or situations of the past.


Fall brings it on. Not sure why, but it does.

There are just particular times that i truly wish that Mr. Peabody and his boy Sherman really had invented the WABAC Machine. I would jump in there and revisit some of the cherished moments of life. Let me reflect on a few...

The first time i caught air at the Fort Kam half pipe in Hawaii.

The time i caught a winning touchdown pass for my block "Lufberry Players" against our neighboring block on Seymour Johnson AFB in Goldsboro NC.

The first, second, and third time i wend to Disneyworld with family.

My first award for a relief print i created at the Ala Moana Mall.

My first kiss that took way to long to happen because i was not good at reading girls and when I finally did it she gave me a look that told me I should have done that about twenty minutes early. All while sitting in her cool car outside of my house in Grand Forks AFB, ND.

A kiss that took place in Bloomington MN next to an old blueChevy Cavalier with the same girl as the first kiss, but this one was much better, passionate, and waaaay less awkward.

The first time i got a huge laugh while doing stand up at Hot Rox's in Minneapolis.

Watching both my children being born at a local Fairview hospital.

My first roller coaster ride on the Wild Thing with my best friend.

Attending my first Guns N Roses concert. Then my second... and my third and fourth.

There are so many other things, some of them not appropriate for all readers (feel free to ask).
Well, less time being spent in the past, and time to make some future. None the less, if you run across the WABAC Machine, let me know.

Im Flirting With Her Again

I was pounding nine inch nails in the garden of sound while standing next to some gorillaz.

Today was a long day, and when push came to shove, i had to lean on some music. Its strange how all the daily activities of life can pull you away from the things you love, something like music. I use to have a serious relationship with music. We would hang out most of my days, always finding a way to spend time together at any cost. She was always there for me. She could turn any mood i had at the moment into something else because she knew how to reach me. Most of it was my choice, but sometimes she would surprise me with something when the shuffle was on. Without a doubt, it was a love affair that i never thought would dwindle, but it did.

This morning, i woke from some seriously messed up dreams, and i had an edginess to me that made everything seem like it was in slow motion and a slight feeling of panic. The remedy... music. I grabbed my ipod, that has been dormant for some time, and took it with me out the door as i headed for the bus. I hit play hoping it was on a song that would enlighten me. Sure enough, i was grasped by Trent Reznor, and the timing couldn't be better. The sun was just starting to kiss the skyline so there was a sharp contrast. Just above the black trees the color was an off purple that slowly blended to a grey and then black. Truly something out of the surreal world of NIN. I could feel my body start to embrace the morning as the song Everyday is Exactly the Same pumped through my veins. No coffee needed.

I hammered through my work day with little to no break. I was relieved when it came time to catch the bus home as it would be my only break. There were some cherubs at home waiting to be loved and fed. I immediately hit the shuffle at the bus stop and was greeted with some cartoon love. People by the Gorillaz to be exact. It just seem to kick the unwind right in the gut. The afternoon held for a true fall day. Visually everything was in the grey zone, as was all the greyies (9 to 5er's with no life in them). Not to be pulled in to that zone, it was time for a mix of four different Soundgarden albums. It was pleasing to me, but i believe not so pleasant for those around me. As i was rekindling my love with music, my body was sharing in its presence by holding rhythm. Greyies don't like this.

I got off the bus, and finished the walk home next to Peter Murphy. It was truly a lasting kiss from my lover to hold the day.

For everything that was trying to pull my into the abyss, my love help me stay rooted and make the most of the day. Most of all, it inspired me to visit my other mistress... painting.

I'm coming for you honey. Pucker up.

The Grand Mother

A mothers love is great.

It is amazing how fast time can go by. My mother arrived a month ago to visit and help with the kids, and today she left to go back home. It is always a treat to have her here. She is wonderful with the kids, and they love all the attention they get from her, not to mention all the great things she does for the rest of the family. Cooking, laundry, cleaning. She is a non-stop domestic machine. Her generosity is never ending and there just seems no great way to thank her for all she does. She knows how to make things that can be a burden seem lighter. My heart is saddened when she has to go home. Her disappearance here is quite noticable. Even the home itself seems to breathe a heavy sadness with out her.

Well, we will carry on. The family will miss her greatly, especially the great food. Jessie will miss the trips to the park, Logan will miss the early morning one on one time, Jeff will miss the freedom of having to watch the kids, Karen will miss the extra sleep, Axl and Marla will miss the food dish always being full, and I will miss her.

Thanks Mom, we love you.

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

The financial front is not better, but getting there. Things have been filed, and are well underway. The constant phone calls have started to subside.

The phone calls. Though i have found them highly annoying, i know somewhere deep inside me i will miss them. I have found that i have developed a certain sense of belonging every time my phone rings. I have never been this popular. To get four to five calls a day was something i never experienced until things went sour financially. Granted, the first phone calls were very ugly with a lot of aggressive language that would make the average person squirm or cry. As time went by though, i found them amusing. Since the economy started tanking, the tone on the other end of the phone has become somewhat nurturing. I believe with so many people not able to pay their bills, the creditors decided to take a different approach, especially if they still wanted to get paid themselves. Amusingly enough, i actually felt more compelled to try and get money to them (but i didn't) when they treated me like a human being with respect. So now, in the next step in my financial adventure, the phone calls have ceased, and so my popularity has waned. I find myself checking my phone on a regular basis to make sure it is still working. It is.

It has come to this. I say farewell to my creditors calls. I will miss the feeling of being needed, but not the reason for the call. I will be okay. It is for the best. Our break up is complete.

Late Night Metaphor

There are only so many balls you can juggle.

We all have our own capacity. No matter how hard you may try to get more balls in the air, you can only handle a set amount. Eventually you get to many in the mix, and you will drop one or more. It will be the one you drop that you will struggle with. Why, because that is the only one people will notice. Never mind the fact that you are still coordinating ten other balls, its that ONE...

As we all go through our daily lives juggling, let us show compassion and most of all forgiveness for the dropped ball, because eventually you will drop one. Along with forgiveness let us also bring apologies, because you never know when you have been the cause for the dropped ball.

Late Night Metaphor brought to you by Calgon.