So I'm walking on the trail this morning, and a lady walking four dogs approaches from the opposite direction. The lead dog, who isn't leashed, confidently waddles up to me to get some behind-the-ear scritches, which I happily supply in abundance. (I have quite an overstock so I can easily spare them.) Then I look up to see the other three puppers patiently waiting for their respective turns, entire bodies wagging happily in anticipation.
Again, I oblige. I'm like Santa for dogs on Christmas morning over here.
Next thing I know, I am tangled up in leashes, and I suddenly realize this could be a ruse for a kidnapping. (Then I remember: I'm poor, so I should be okay.)
Eventually, I get extracted from the leash tangle, and bid them all a good day.
This will be an excellent day.
Wednesday, June 13, 2018
Friday, June 8, 2018
The Discussion No One Wants to Have
I think now is the time to start having the discussion that many of us are ashamed, or afraid, to have. It's about depression and suicide. I'll start. This isn’t going to be easy.
I'll go ahead and admit that there is hardly a day that goes by that I don't fantasize about my own death, self-inflicted or otherwise. I'm much too cowardly (not to mention curious to see what's next, like any good story) to ever actually carry through with it, but those thoughts are always there. It matters not if I’m employed, unemployed, single, in a happy relationship, rich or poor; that shadow hangs over me almost constantly. It may vary in size and intensity on any given day, but it is a constant presence.
When I first moved I was terrified of being alone, worried that the isolation would simply overwhelm me. (I wound up loving the abundant Nature around me, so it actually wound up helping immensely.) One of the reasons I’m not on Facebook much these days is it is hard to look at smiling families on vacation, while waking up alone and literally pooping in a bucket. (Plumbing issues. Don’t ask. Hey at least my cats are friendly and the bucket gets cleaned, though the cats don’t clean the bucket, which would admittedly be very cool of them.) The voice in my head, which convincingly imitates my own voice, constantly whispers “you’re an utterly pathetic, worthless loser and your life has no meaning.” I know that voice is a lie, because I’m obviously awesome, but it is still there, like a little monster with claws and teeth tearing its way out of my stomach.
You see, Depression is something many people deal with, but is not often discussed. People who suffer tend to hide those feelings away, afraid to show weakness or any other such utter bullshit. Well I’m writing this because maybe, just maybe, someone else is suffering in silence, and this will encourage them to speak out. Or maybe at least feel somewhat comforted, as misery certainly does love company.
Remember when everyone was shocked after Robin Williams committed suicide? Depression is far more common than people realize. And before you exclaim “but Tophy, old chap, they make medications and support groups and the like,” you are correct. But meds are expensive, and go horribly wrong when you come off of them. Support groups are terrifying for introverts with social anxiety.
I’m not trying to make excuses, just saying that I feel ya, fellow introverted peeps. I do have methods for combating that voice, such as quiet walks in Nature, music, meditation, telling myself I’m going to die eventually anyway so why rush, and logging off of social anxie- I mean media. Also, I know that some choices can never be undone.
One last word of encouragement, both to myself and others: some of the best things in my Life happened when I learned to let go. It is almost as if the Universe Itself took over and said, “Chill out, bruh, I’ve got this shit handled!” And you know what? Like Whoopie said, “I’m here!” (Only I said it quieter because, introvert.)
And I plan to be for a while yet.
Hopefully.
I'll go ahead and admit that there is hardly a day that goes by that I don't fantasize about my own death, self-inflicted or otherwise. I'm much too cowardly (not to mention curious to see what's next, like any good story) to ever actually carry through with it, but those thoughts are always there. It matters not if I’m employed, unemployed, single, in a happy relationship, rich or poor; that shadow hangs over me almost constantly. It may vary in size and intensity on any given day, but it is a constant presence.
When I first moved I was terrified of being alone, worried that the isolation would simply overwhelm me. (I wound up loving the abundant Nature around me, so it actually wound up helping immensely.) One of the reasons I’m not on Facebook much these days is it is hard to look at smiling families on vacation, while waking up alone and literally pooping in a bucket. (Plumbing issues. Don’t ask. Hey at least my cats are friendly and the bucket gets cleaned, though the cats don’t clean the bucket, which would admittedly be very cool of them.) The voice in my head, which convincingly imitates my own voice, constantly whispers “you’re an utterly pathetic, worthless loser and your life has no meaning.” I know that voice is a lie, because I’m obviously awesome, but it is still there, like a little monster with claws and teeth tearing its way out of my stomach.
You see, Depression is something many people deal with, but is not often discussed. People who suffer tend to hide those feelings away, afraid to show weakness or any other such utter bullshit. Well I’m writing this because maybe, just maybe, someone else is suffering in silence, and this will encourage them to speak out. Or maybe at least feel somewhat comforted, as misery certainly does love company.
Remember when everyone was shocked after Robin Williams committed suicide? Depression is far more common than people realize. And before you exclaim “but Tophy, old chap, they make medications and support groups and the like,” you are correct. But meds are expensive, and go horribly wrong when you come off of them. Support groups are terrifying for introverts with social anxiety.
I’m not trying to make excuses, just saying that I feel ya, fellow introverted peeps. I do have methods for combating that voice, such as quiet walks in Nature, music, meditation, telling myself I’m going to die eventually anyway so why rush, and logging off of social anxie- I mean media. Also, I know that some choices can never be undone.
One last word of encouragement, both to myself and others: some of the best things in my Life happened when I learned to let go. It is almost as if the Universe Itself took over and said, “Chill out, bruh, I’ve got this shit handled!” And you know what? Like Whoopie said, “I’m here!” (Only I said it quieter because, introvert.)
And I plan to be for a while yet.
Hopefully.
Friday, March 2, 2018
Opryland 2018
In a parallel universe, Opryland U.S.A is still open and thriving. In an effort to appeal to a younger audience, "The Little Deuce Coup" has recently been re-themed to "The Cosmic Saucers," complete with planetarium-style effects inside the dome and a high-tech laser system. The playlist is composed mostly by the music of Flo Rida and Pitbull, except for special 80's themed weekends.
Baby boomers often complain about the lack of "soul" in the revamped attraction.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Briley Parkway, "Dolly Parton's Splash 'n Holler Lagoon" just celebrated the opening of its latest water ride, "Dolly's D Cups," featuring two side-by-side bikini-shaped ride vehicles that float riders and their friends down a curving waterway. After the notorious Grizzly River Rampage Incident, in which a live bear mauled a park guest seven years ago, that attraction was dismantled, leaving a river-shaped hole in visitor's hearts.
Millennials decry the ride's theming as "overtly sexual, but thank God at least there are no bears."
And finally tonight, an update to the ongoing controversy of the "Screamin' Delta Demon," which has recently come under fire by right-wing conservative groups for its blatant Satanic and Cajunic (sic) imagery. A few name-change proposals such as "Bob's Bobsleds" and "Sleddin' with Jesus" have been met with patrons shaking their head "no" in slow motion with deadpan stares, all without breaking eye contact.
Gen Xers remember when this ride was cool, as they sigh forlornly at the Jesus-shaped e-cigarette pens in the gift shop.
Now, as suddenly as a thought, my mind returns back through the quantum foam into this Universe. As I step through the bustling corridors of a shopping center that long ago replaced the iconic theme park, I find myself remembering the layout of that familiar childhood haunt. To me, it still seems like the park completely fit within the back side of the current mall's parking lot, and that still boggles my mind. I can almost make out the exact spot where the Wabash Cannonball would whoosh by the delighted pedestrians.
There, just inside those doors, the food court. If you listen closely late at night, you can still faintly hear the screams of riders of the Dulcimer Splash, going down that final drop. Further distant, the bell of one of the trains as it chugs towards a nearby station. The ghostly music playing over the speakers is currently banjo-laden bluegrass. (Many fingers and feet were happily tapped along these pleasant walkways.)
A couple of kids walk by excitedly talking about CHAOS, then they slowly vanish to history. I recognize one of those kids. He was me. I will never get to ride that or any other ride at this wonderful park ever again, but I sometimes find myself wondering what it would have been like if it were still around today.
So, using the mysterious power of our collective, multi-generational minds, we can again pull back the barrier between realities, and travel once more to the land of alternate things.
Baby boomers often complain about the lack of "soul" in the revamped attraction.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Briley Parkway, "Dolly Parton's Splash 'n Holler Lagoon" just celebrated the opening of its latest water ride, "Dolly's D Cups," featuring two side-by-side bikini-shaped ride vehicles that float riders and their friends down a curving waterway. After the notorious Grizzly River Rampage Incident, in which a live bear mauled a park guest seven years ago, that attraction was dismantled, leaving a river-shaped hole in visitor's hearts.
Millennials decry the ride's theming as "overtly sexual, but thank God at least there are no bears."
And finally tonight, an update to the ongoing controversy of the "Screamin' Delta Demon," which has recently come under fire by right-wing conservative groups for its blatant Satanic and Cajunic (sic) imagery. A few name-change proposals such as "Bob's Bobsleds" and "Sleddin' with Jesus" have been met with patrons shaking their head "no" in slow motion with deadpan stares, all without breaking eye contact.
Gen Xers remember when this ride was cool, as they sigh forlornly at the Jesus-shaped e-cigarette pens in the gift shop.
Now, as suddenly as a thought, my mind returns back through the quantum foam into this Universe. As I step through the bustling corridors of a shopping center that long ago replaced the iconic theme park, I find myself remembering the layout of that familiar childhood haunt. To me, it still seems like the park completely fit within the back side of the current mall's parking lot, and that still boggles my mind. I can almost make out the exact spot where the Wabash Cannonball would whoosh by the delighted pedestrians.
There, just inside those doors, the food court. If you listen closely late at night, you can still faintly hear the screams of riders of the Dulcimer Splash, going down that final drop. Further distant, the bell of one of the trains as it chugs towards a nearby station. The ghostly music playing over the speakers is currently banjo-laden bluegrass. (Many fingers and feet were happily tapped along these pleasant walkways.)
A couple of kids walk by excitedly talking about CHAOS, then they slowly vanish to history. I recognize one of those kids. He was me. I will never get to ride that or any other ride at this wonderful park ever again, but I sometimes find myself wondering what it would have been like if it were still around today.
So, using the mysterious power of our collective, multi-generational minds, we can again pull back the barrier between realities, and travel once more to the land of alternate things.
Wednesday, February 7, 2018
Just For The Record...
I know a blog post isn't a legal will, but as a statement of intention I would like to say that at my funeral (whenever that may be so calm your tits, we haven't set a date or anything) I want the last song to be played to be The Beatles "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band Reprise." We hope you have enjoyed the show/sorry but it's time to go and all that. And crank that song up, because I want the attendees to have a toe-tappin' fun time mourning my passing. None of that sad "live like you're dying" bullshit. (No offense intended, sis.) I want a party! With blackjack, and hookers!
...Okay, I'll just settle for the song. Oh, and spread my ashes somewhere fun!
...Okay, I'll just settle for the song. Oh, and spread my ashes somewhere fun!
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Do You Feel Like He Did?
SCENE: My earbuds, earlier today, as I'm jamming to "Frampton Comes Alive"
FRAMPTON'S MAGICAL TALKING GUITAR: "Do you feel..."
OVERENTHUSIASTIC FAN IN AUDIENCE, AUDIBLE ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE: "Yeeaa!"
FRAMPTON'S APPARENTLY HARD-OF-HEARING TALKING GUITAR, AGAIN INQUIRING: "Do you feeeeeel..."
SAME FAN, THIS TIME DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO BURSTING A BLOOD VESSEL OR HAVING SOME SORT OF MUSICALLY-INDUCED SEXUAL CLIMAX: "YeeeeeeeEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!!!"
I wasn't there, but imagine this fan then fell over from loss of blood flow and writhed around on the ground in ecstasy, apparently indeed feeling like the guitar did.
FRAMPTON'S MAGICAL TALKING GUITAR: "Do you feel..."
OVERENTHUSIASTIC FAN IN AUDIENCE, AUDIBLE ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE: "Yeeaa!"
FRAMPTON'S APPARENTLY HARD-OF-HEARING TALKING GUITAR, AGAIN INQUIRING: "Do you feeeeeel..."
SAME FAN, THIS TIME DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO BURSTING A BLOOD VESSEL OR HAVING SOME SORT OF MUSICALLY-INDUCED SEXUAL CLIMAX: "YeeeeeeeEEEEEAAAAAAAAA!!!"
I wasn't there, but imagine this fan then fell over from loss of blood flow and writhed around on the ground in ecstasy, apparently indeed feeling like the guitar did.
"To Adult is Human, to Nap, Feline..."
Being an adult is weird.
On one hand, you are always tired and there is no power in the entire Cosmos that can possibly change this. Also, you are constantly required to make awkward conversation with other adult humans, which usually involves expressing amazement that weather is a dynamic system that often undergoes change. As an added bonus, you have to have money or you literally die, then get billed for it.
On the other hand, you are free to decide, whenever you want, to purchase and consume tasty concoctions for no reason at all, at any hour. (*May I recommend the cheesecake milkshake from Sonic. It has actual tasty bits of...something. Something delicious. I'm not afraid of it.) Plus you can have as many cats as you want, because cats are freakin' awesome.
So all in all I suppose the adulting experience balances out, so one is free to contemplate one's smallness and insignificance in a vast, utterly unfeeling Universe while slurping loudly from a plastic, environmentally irresponsible drinking straw.
Anyway, enjoy your dinner.
On one hand, you are always tired and there is no power in the entire Cosmos that can possibly change this. Also, you are constantly required to make awkward conversation with other adult humans, which usually involves expressing amazement that weather is a dynamic system that often undergoes change. As an added bonus, you have to have money or you literally die, then get billed for it.
On the other hand, you are free to decide, whenever you want, to purchase and consume tasty concoctions for no reason at all, at any hour. (*May I recommend the cheesecake milkshake from Sonic. It has actual tasty bits of...something. Something delicious. I'm not afraid of it.) Plus you can have as many cats as you want, because cats are freakin' awesome.
So all in all I suppose the adulting experience balances out, so one is free to contemplate one's smallness and insignificance in a vast, utterly unfeeling Universe while slurping loudly from a plastic, environmentally irresponsible drinking straw.
Anyway, enjoy your dinner.
Thursday, July 27, 2017
Meditations of the Sea
I took an early morning stroll on the pier this morning, to do that obligatory thing people do while at the beach: observe the sunrise. While I was spending the time in relative solitude, my mind, as it so often does, began to contemplate. I wondered why we are so fascinated with the Ocean.
As my gaze swept from the sea over to land, it suddenly hit me. The Ocean hasn’t really been tamed. Oh, certainly we have tools to explore and study it, but we haven’t cultivated it for civilization. Once my gaze swept the beach, immediate signs of civilization appeared. High rise condos, pavement, lights, and noise. Everywhere. The ocean? It appeared more or less the same as it has appeared for centuries, since before even Antiquity was new.
Perhaps we are drawn to the sheer size and immensity of it as well. The eye strains as far as it can see, and if you’ll pardon the pun, all it can see is Sea. So much Ocean. So little us. It is the same, perhaps, as gazing out to the stars, which incidentally, is also best done at Sea. We are drawn to Infinity.
Or, perhaps more encouragingly, Infinity just may be drawn…
...to us.
As my gaze swept from the sea over to land, it suddenly hit me. The Ocean hasn’t really been tamed. Oh, certainly we have tools to explore and study it, but we haven’t cultivated it for civilization. Once my gaze swept the beach, immediate signs of civilization appeared. High rise condos, pavement, lights, and noise. Everywhere. The ocean? It appeared more or less the same as it has appeared for centuries, since before even Antiquity was new.
Perhaps we are drawn to the sheer size and immensity of it as well. The eye strains as far as it can see, and if you’ll pardon the pun, all it can see is Sea. So much Ocean. So little us. It is the same, perhaps, as gazing out to the stars, which incidentally, is also best done at Sea. We are drawn to Infinity.
Or, perhaps more encouragingly, Infinity just may be drawn…
...to us.
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