Thirty-Seven
I am now thirty-seven years old; I achieved this incredibly uninteresting milestone on Sunday. For some reason, turning thirty-seven has given me great pause. Turning thirty really didn’t bother me, it just felt weird saying it, the way it felt coming out of my mouth, just a different feeling than twenty-something. Turning thirty-five was a little different as it meant moving out of that coveted eighteen to thirty-four demographic. However, for some reason, turning thirty-seven seemed to really stick in my craw.
I don’t think it’s so much that I feel “old” as it is that I feel “older,” if that makes any sense. I think what keeps me from feeling old is that I don’t have interests that associate with being old, whether that’s true or not in reality, is of course up for debate. I love comic books and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and music and standup comedy and preparing and eating food. My non-work wardrobe is made up of jeans, cargo shorts, hoodies, & t-shirts. Most of my t-shirts either reference BJJ, comics, or bands. This is not in an effort to cling to my youth, this is what I like & what I am comfortable in.
What I have found harder to hold on to or to attain as I have gotten older is physical fitness. When I started training in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu almost five years ago I was overweight and out of shape. Through changes in diet a ton of cardio and as much BJJ I could fit in I shed roughly forty pounds. I have noticed in recent months that I was starting to gain a bit of weight, not a ton, but enough for me to take my most slim fitting or clingy material comprised t-shirts temporarily out of rotation. My biggest roadblock has always been my love of food. I really do love to eat and most of what I love to eat is not very good for you. I try to restrict what I eat during the day during the week, but a lot of times my habits go to hell in a hand basket on the weekends.
In an effort to combat this I have added a three times weekly “core shredding workout” provided by a friend who is a personal trainer and attending a Bikram Yoga class once a week to my work out schedule. I have also started drinking roughly 160 ounces of water a day to combat any water retention. I am also trying to grill as much as possible and to limit eating out and desserts. I am hoping the end result will be a flatter stomach, stronger core, stronger lower back, and increased flexibility. I’m only in my second week of this new program, so time will tell.
The other thing that has started to eat away at me is the question of; what am I going to do with the rest of my life. In all sense of the term, I think it is very safe to say that I have entered what is known as “middle age.” How is my life going to go from here, what do I want to do with the time that I have left? Where do I want to go, what do I want to see and do? Am I doing the most to ensure that the second half will be better than the first? There are so many places I want to see and so many things I have yet to experience. I certainly didn’t think I would be where I am at this point in my life when I was; say my fourteen year old daughter’s age. In some ways I have seen and experienced so much more than I thought that I would, in others, I’m quite disappointed in myself, if I’m honest.
So many unanswered and unanswerable questions dog me regarding what comes next, so much so that it has almost paralyzed me when I try to wrap my head around it all. This is of course the entirely worst possible thing, to be so frozen that one does nothing. I am trying to keep what I have attempted to make my motto since my Father’s passing stay front and center in my mind; be better. Every year my New Year’s Resolution is the same; be better, be a better husband, father, son, friend, martial artist, PERSON. At the end of every year I always feel that I have failed in this quest. That maybe I have moved the needle the slightest bit, but how woefully inadequate of change that is. Every year I say the same; Be Better Tour (insert year here,) train keeps a rollin’, tougher than a coffin nail. And in my heart of hearts I believe this, I believe that I will be better and do better and grow. It just doesn’t seem to work out that way. I know the blame for this falls squarely on my shoulders. I know that I am the sole reason that I am so disappointed in myself.
So here I am, thirty-seven, with so much more to see and do, with half a life left to go. So now what, what comes next? I just don’t know yet. And
that, that is what is making thirty-seven so different, so difficult, that I
just don’t know what should or will come next.
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aging. Show all posts
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Becoming a Man, what it means to be a Father
With Father’s Day rapidly approaching I’ve been thinking a
lot regarding what it really means to be a Father and when you really become a
man. I don't think I really became a man until my Dad died which is sad and
stupid and fucked up, but that’s the way it is, if I’m being honest, which I’m
trying to be.
One of my favorite examples to give, when people ask what
being a Father means, or of how my Dad was is the time I moved to New Jersey. I
was 18 years old and dating a woman who was 22 and I was totally and completely
infatuated with her. She had already graduated college and I was halfway
through my first year and not doing a very good job of it. I was too involved
with going to goth clubs with my friends and exploring the NYC goth scene to do
things like go to class and write papers.
I dropped out of school because it was interfering with
spending time with her and with my working shit menial jobs to make money to
move in with her. She eventually got kicked out of her place up in Port Chester
and moved back in with her mother in South Jersey. I would work all week at
Costco, then take the LIRR into Penn, walk to Port Authority and take the two
hour bus trip down to Cherry Hill every Friday, spend the rest of Friday and
all of Saturday with her and be back in NY in time to work the closing shift on
Sunday. It totally fucking sucked.
We started looking for places together and everywhere in
North Jersey or NY was too expensive. All the way my Father kept trying to talk
me out of moving in with her and into going back to college. I wouldn’t listen
and we argued often. We eventually found a place in South Jersey and were committed
to moving in together. Despite their misgivings, my parents helped me pack, rented
a minivan, and drove me down there. Once down there they took us to Bed, Bath,
& Beyond and bought some things for us. We said our goodbyes and they were
off.
While I was there, my Dad would send me care packages; video
tapes of Giants games (when they won), and news clippings pertaining to the Giants,
and any news clippings pertaining to the Islanders. He would call me often, not
to hound me, but to keep in touch. When things started going bad he tried to
council me.
Finally, it was at a point when things were not going to get
better and he said “Christopher, just come home, I’ll take the for sale sign of
your car, all you have to do is go to school. Just come home.” When I finally
agreed, he again rented a minivan, drove down to South Jersey, helped me pack,
and took me home.
Being a parent is trying to prevent your children from
making mistakes, realizing when you can’t stop them, and being there to help
them stand up, and dust themselves off when they do. He never rubbed it in my
face, he never hit me with an “I told you so,” he just told me how proud he was
of me for realizing my mistake and coming home. And how happy he was I was home and how much
he loved me. He even repainted my room and had my Mom get me new curtains and
bedding.
I would make a lot more mistakes and he would do
a lot more helping me up and dusting me off. He was the BEST, end of story and I'll
never measure up, and I'm cool with that. But he loved me so much; he never
gave up on me. He was the only one, other than Erin, who never gave up. And it
took him dying, for me to really fully become the man he saw in me. What I’m
not cool with is him being gone and I’m not OK with him not getting to see the
man I’ve become. I love you Dad, with all my heart, always and forever.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Keeping It Real (Trying To Anyway)
I have been trying very hard to go very hard at anything not work related, to keep my head in the game. Reading whenever I can (not just comics, I swear), working out every day, grilling as often as I can, training BJJ at least twice a week (wishing my work schedule would allow for more), trying to write more, listening to as much music as I can, going to five shows in the next four months (Alkaline Trio, The National, Half Moon Run, Depeche Mode 2x). I haven’t taken the bike out yet but I am definitely getting the itch to hit it. I want to bake more, but that would mean eating the stuff which would be counterproductive!
I’m trying not to lose myself. I feel like that has been the big fear with me ever since I started working “real jobs” in other words jobs outside of retail. I feel like when I was young, early to mid-twenties and working in retail, it didn’t matter; the fear wasn’t there because I knew I wouldn’t be doing that bullshit for the rest of my life. I had so much other stuff going on, I was just SO creative that SOMETHING was going to hit. Either the writing in one form or another, the music in on genre or another, the acting, or I was going to cling desperately to one of my many talented friends coattails as they gleefully dragged me along for the ride.
Surprise, none of that happened. And you get to a point where you just have to move on with your life, you just have to do what you have to do to pay the bills and live the kind of existence you want to live. To not struggle to pay your rent or mortgage and to not worry if you can afford to buy new clothes for your daughter once she outgrows the ones she has or the seasons change.
So that’s what I did, I started working in office jobs with an unfortunately brief detour into the culinary/small business owner’s world, and then back into an office. And this where you really start to get that fear that you are your job, you don’t want to be, you certainly don’t identify that way, but it’s often the first thing someone will ask. So, what do you do? As if this was the most important part of one’s life?
Yes, being an Office Manager for at an IT firm is what I do to make money. This, however, is the last thing I would use to describe myself. Hell, look at my brief twitter bio: “Husband, father, BJJ Blue Belt, Pastry Chef, Straight Edge, food/music/film/comic book/stand-up junkie.” It doesn’t even make the damn cut. And if I extended it, it still wouldn’t; son, brother, uncle, nephew, friend, & writer would all make the list of descriptors first.
Yet I still have that fear that drives me so hard, that uneasiness that I am losing parts of myself that I am conforming that I am letting go or giving up. Not me, no fucking way, not this devout follower of the Church of Rollins. I have no interest in either burning out or fading away. I do what I do to take care of my responsibilities, but that which I do to earn a living will not & cannot define me; I won’t allow it.
Be Better Tour 2013, Train Keeps Rollin’, Tougher Than a Coffin Nail
I’m trying not to lose myself. I feel like that has been the big fear with me ever since I started working “real jobs” in other words jobs outside of retail. I feel like when I was young, early to mid-twenties and working in retail, it didn’t matter; the fear wasn’t there because I knew I wouldn’t be doing that bullshit for the rest of my life. I had so much other stuff going on, I was just SO creative that SOMETHING was going to hit. Either the writing in one form or another, the music in on genre or another, the acting, or I was going to cling desperately to one of my many talented friends coattails as they gleefully dragged me along for the ride.
Surprise, none of that happened. And you get to a point where you just have to move on with your life, you just have to do what you have to do to pay the bills and live the kind of existence you want to live. To not struggle to pay your rent or mortgage and to not worry if you can afford to buy new clothes for your daughter once she outgrows the ones she has or the seasons change.
So that’s what I did, I started working in office jobs with an unfortunately brief detour into the culinary/small business owner’s world, and then back into an office. And this where you really start to get that fear that you are your job, you don’t want to be, you certainly don’t identify that way, but it’s often the first thing someone will ask. So, what do you do? As if this was the most important part of one’s life?
Yes, being an Office Manager for at an IT firm is what I do to make money. This, however, is the last thing I would use to describe myself. Hell, look at my brief twitter bio: “Husband, father, BJJ Blue Belt, Pastry Chef, Straight Edge, food/music/film/comic book/stand-up junkie.” It doesn’t even make the damn cut. And if I extended it, it still wouldn’t; son, brother, uncle, nephew, friend, & writer would all make the list of descriptors first.
Yet I still have that fear that drives me so hard, that uneasiness that I am losing parts of myself that I am conforming that I am letting go or giving up. Not me, no fucking way, not this devout follower of the Church of Rollins. I have no interest in either burning out or fading away. I do what I do to take care of my responsibilities, but that which I do to earn a living will not & cannot define me; I won’t allow it.
Be Better Tour 2013, Train Keeps Rollin’, Tougher Than a Coffin Nail
Friday, May 10, 2013
Having an incredible memory, a blessing or a curse?
My friends and family will often remark on my incredible powers of recall. I have a very, very good long term memory, especially when it concerns social situations. Without much effort I am usually able to recall minute details from as far back as my childhood. And I remember nonsensical things like what I wore on first dates in high school that never even resulted in second dates. My mind is filled with useless recollections of specific episodes of 80s sitcoms.
Oscar Hammling uttered one of my dear friend Chris Gavagan’s favorite quotes, “Often the greatest enemy of present happiness is past happiness too well remembered.” Chris repeated this quote to me often over many a cup of coffee at the infamous El Greco Diner in Brooklyn. It related both to a wonderful script he had written as well as both of our lives. I have often focused on this quote and on the veracity of it.
If you are truly happy in the present, can remembering how happy you were in the past really be enough to derail that happiness? Well, let’s examine this shall we? I am certainly willing to accept the fact that one’s memory is indeed subjective. And that how you remember something, doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the truth of the matter. I could wholly and completely believe that I wasn’t happier than I had ever been at one point in time, but in truth, maybe there were events surrounding said point in time, that were causing me extreme anxiety? Maybe that MOMENT was wonderful, but the surrounding moments were horrible.
Now, if a person is happy, in the moment & place they are currently in, why would a memory of another time in which they are happy, ruin that? Well, perhaps it’s because you’ll think “I’m having a great time right now, I’m so happy, life is good!” And then you’ll think, “Well, it’s not as good as…” and this is what leads to problems, the comparisons.
These comparisons are often not anywhere near the realm of being fair due to the previously stated subjective nature of one’s memory. The odds are already slanted in favor of past happiness, due to the fact that you are subjectively remembering them. Then you work into the equation that you are older than the time you are remembering and in most cases ones responsibilities, stresses, and obligations increase with age. Another point for past happiness!
So here you are, concentrating on how good things were back then which in turn leads you to think of how much better than they are at the present moment. This can run you down into thinking that if things were so good then, that means they aren’t all that great now, and this totally kills your buzz on your present happiness. And BOOM there we have it, present happiness crushed by the oppressive heel of past happiness.
I have to admit, I have fallen victim to this many, many times. It has ruined many relationships and other opportunities for me in my lifetime. However, all things considered, I wouldn’t trade my memory for anything.
My Father has been gone for over 4 ½ years now, and I have many amazing memories of him. There are little moments between just the two of us as well as the big moments surrounded by others. Do my past memories of times spent with him make new memories of life events and achievements without him pale in comparison? Sometimes, sometimes it does, and I always wish he could be a part of them. I have learned, however, that I have to live in the moment and be thankful for the happiness I have & grateful for the good times I will experience in the future and not shackle myself to my past.
Oscar Hammling uttered one of my dear friend Chris Gavagan’s favorite quotes, “Often the greatest enemy of present happiness is past happiness too well remembered.” Chris repeated this quote to me often over many a cup of coffee at the infamous El Greco Diner in Brooklyn. It related both to a wonderful script he had written as well as both of our lives. I have often focused on this quote and on the veracity of it.
If you are truly happy in the present, can remembering how happy you were in the past really be enough to derail that happiness? Well, let’s examine this shall we? I am certainly willing to accept the fact that one’s memory is indeed subjective. And that how you remember something, doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s the truth of the matter. I could wholly and completely believe that I wasn’t happier than I had ever been at one point in time, but in truth, maybe there were events surrounding said point in time, that were causing me extreme anxiety? Maybe that MOMENT was wonderful, but the surrounding moments were horrible.
Now, if a person is happy, in the moment & place they are currently in, why would a memory of another time in which they are happy, ruin that? Well, perhaps it’s because you’ll think “I’m having a great time right now, I’m so happy, life is good!” And then you’ll think, “Well, it’s not as good as…” and this is what leads to problems, the comparisons.
These comparisons are often not anywhere near the realm of being fair due to the previously stated subjective nature of one’s memory. The odds are already slanted in favor of past happiness, due to the fact that you are subjectively remembering them. Then you work into the equation that you are older than the time you are remembering and in most cases ones responsibilities, stresses, and obligations increase with age. Another point for past happiness!
So here you are, concentrating on how good things were back then which in turn leads you to think of how much better than they are at the present moment. This can run you down into thinking that if things were so good then, that means they aren’t all that great now, and this totally kills your buzz on your present happiness. And BOOM there we have it, present happiness crushed by the oppressive heel of past happiness.
I have to admit, I have fallen victim to this many, many times. It has ruined many relationships and other opportunities for me in my lifetime. However, all things considered, I wouldn’t trade my memory for anything.
My Father has been gone for over 4 ½ years now, and I have many amazing memories of him. There are little moments between just the two of us as well as the big moments surrounded by others. Do my past memories of times spent with him make new memories of life events and achievements without him pale in comparison? Sometimes, sometimes it does, and I always wish he could be a part of them. I have learned, however, that I have to live in the moment and be thankful for the happiness I have & grateful for the good times I will experience in the future and not shackle myself to my past.
Friday, January 8, 2010
I Am Broken
I am broken, irreparably so, this is something that I am acutely aware of. It is an undeniable fact, one I have known for quite some time. How did I break, who or what broke me, when did I first become broken? These are questions that I do not have the answer to. However I do know what is broken and I do know that it something that cannot possibly be fixed, ever. My psyche is quite literally a mess.
There have been several different opinions as to what is “wrong” with me. I put the word wrong in quotes because I feel that the description is incorrect, I feel that the word I used previously, broken, is the more correct term for my mental situation. However, society at large would probably consider wrong to be the correct word. Some have called it major depressive disorder, some have called it manic depression, and others have called me a mopey fuck. And still others have referred to me as being “whacky” or “strange.” The word irritable has been tossed around as well.
To me, the labels are just really superfluous, whichever one you decide to use. One way or another, the fact remains, I am broken. It is not something I can control or “work on” or rehabilitate. I often get sad for absolutely reason. Or a single e-mail or comment or action can sometimes send me spiraling down into an abyss of self loathing with omnipresent thoughts of self destruction.
And then there are times when I go on a tear and buy a ton of shit I do not need because I just absolutely had to have them. And I have become an absurd completist as far as some of my interests are concerned. Buying DVDs I do not have the time to watch or albums that I do not consider particularly good or essential just because I NEED to have them in my collection.
Then there is my propensity to become so totally and extremely frustrated with a person or situation seemingly instantaneously. One moment I am fine and the next a wrong sentence or look or reaction has me completely consumed with anger or frustration to the point where I have to immediately step away to avoid a potentially explosive event. Or there will be times when one moment I am completely fine and the next anything and everything irritates me so wholly and completely that I become absolutely impossible to be around.
I also find myself at times being completely unable to feel good about myself. Despite the huge strides I have made in improving my physical appearance I still find so many things to hate when I look in the mirror. And I cannot seem to stop picking myself apart and just wanting to destroy myself because I do not see what I want to see in that reflection.
Or I become so fixated and obsessed with completing a goal or task that failure to do so leaves me feeling completely crushed, hollow, and empty inside. As if I am not worth the dog shit stuck to someone’s shoe, that I am a complete and utter disappointment and failure to all those who were foolish enough to believe in me or count on me.
So yes, I am broken, I cannot be fixed or cured or rehabilitated. I am aware of this and it does not please nor am I looking to use it as an excuse. It is what it is as I am what I am. Broken.
There have been several different opinions as to what is “wrong” with me. I put the word wrong in quotes because I feel that the description is incorrect, I feel that the word I used previously, broken, is the more correct term for my mental situation. However, society at large would probably consider wrong to be the correct word. Some have called it major depressive disorder, some have called it manic depression, and others have called me a mopey fuck. And still others have referred to me as being “whacky” or “strange.” The word irritable has been tossed around as well.
To me, the labels are just really superfluous, whichever one you decide to use. One way or another, the fact remains, I am broken. It is not something I can control or “work on” or rehabilitate. I often get sad for absolutely reason. Or a single e-mail or comment or action can sometimes send me spiraling down into an abyss of self loathing with omnipresent thoughts of self destruction.
And then there are times when I go on a tear and buy a ton of shit I do not need because I just absolutely had to have them. And I have become an absurd completist as far as some of my interests are concerned. Buying DVDs I do not have the time to watch or albums that I do not consider particularly good or essential just because I NEED to have them in my collection.
Then there is my propensity to become so totally and extremely frustrated with a person or situation seemingly instantaneously. One moment I am fine and the next a wrong sentence or look or reaction has me completely consumed with anger or frustration to the point where I have to immediately step away to avoid a potentially explosive event. Or there will be times when one moment I am completely fine and the next anything and everything irritates me so wholly and completely that I become absolutely impossible to be around.
I also find myself at times being completely unable to feel good about myself. Despite the huge strides I have made in improving my physical appearance I still find so many things to hate when I look in the mirror. And I cannot seem to stop picking myself apart and just wanting to destroy myself because I do not see what I want to see in that reflection.
Or I become so fixated and obsessed with completing a goal or task that failure to do so leaves me feeling completely crushed, hollow, and empty inside. As if I am not worth the dog shit stuck to someone’s shoe, that I am a complete and utter disappointment and failure to all those who were foolish enough to believe in me or count on me.
So yes, I am broken, I cannot be fixed or cured or rehabilitated. I am aware of this and it does not please nor am I looking to use it as an excuse. It is what it is as I am what I am. Broken.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
My Aging Alternative Icons and more…
Morrissey collapsed on stage Saturday, October 24 after performing one song at his show, then falling to the ground, unconscious. He was "stable" at a hospital in Swindon, England, on Sunday morning, according to a hospital spokeswoman quoted by the British Telegraph. I certainly wish the Moz a full and speedy recovery. He has had such an awesome resurgence over the last five years, putting out several fantastic albums in a row: You Are the Quarry in 2004, Live at Earls Court in 2005, Ringleader of the Tormentors in 2006, and Years of Refusal in 2009.
Morrissey’s recent ailment as well as Dave Gahan’s recent health issues during this past year while on tour was reason to give me pause and realize that some of my biggest musical influences are getting on in years now. Dave Gahan is 47, Martin Gore is 48, Morrissey is 50, Henry Rollins is 48, Johnny Marr is 45, Mike Ness is 47, Robert Smith is 50, Bono is 49, and the Edge is 48. Well, at least Rivers Cuomo at 39, Matt Skiba at 33, and Dan Andriano at 32 are all close to or at my age! I know that it shouldn’t have escaped my attention that most of my influences were getting up there in terms of numbers. I mean, they have been actively contributing to the musical landscape since the late 70’s and I was not even born until 1976 and am now clocking in at 33 years old myself.
However, the realization of my aging alternative icons did give me a bit of a shake. I mean, if the HOT ANIMAL MACHINE Henry Rollins is aging…what the hell is to become of me? I remember being in high school and buying a cassette (yes, that’s right, a cassette) of the End of Silence off of some kid in the locker room. Low Self Opinion used to just, DESTROY me. And I still love to blast that song. And Weight and Come In & Burn are both fantastic records as well. And I know I need not speak of how I feel about Hank’s literary output. If this guy is getting on in years, man…that means we’re all aging!
And yes, of course I have realized that I am getting older, hell if the scant grey hairs in my goatee don’t tell me that the fact that my DAUGHTER will be eleven in February sure as hell does! And I have certainly stepped up my efforts this past year to stave off the effects of aging as best as I can. Between Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu twice a week, Muay Thai once a week, my additional daily works outs six times a week, and add to that my much improved eating habits and I am in the best physical condition of my entire life.
Yet there are still effects of the aging process that I feel every day. My joints often hurt and my legs are tired as hell after hitting the elliptical for a half hour. I also require much more sleep than I used to. I remember the days when I could run at peak efficiency on as little as two hours of sleep! I can still pull a day like that out if absolutely necessary but chances are I would be seriously hurting from it! These days with my waking up at five AM Monday to Friday I am usually nodding off by eleven PM. Gone are the days of the sleep deprivation machine that I once was!
Of course, there are advantages to getting older as well. I appreciate a lot of the little things as well as the big things so much more. My idea of “going out” or “doing something” has drastically changed as I have gotten older. Having a cup of coffee or dinner with a friend is big deal now and just spending a day walking around the Village with my wife is a treasure. And when I was in college I used to go to shows all the time! Did I enjoy and appreciate them; of course I did, but not nearly as much as I do now, because I don’t have the time to experience them as often. I also used to have all the time in the world to grab a cup of coffee or a meal with a friend, whereas now scheduling conflicts rule the day! Between who has a job with a whacky schedule, who’s married, who has kids, who’s in a band there are so many outside factors to planning a get together! So when we can make them happen, we really enjoy them!
Ugh, enough about my old decrepit ass! MOVING ON! When will people learn that negative reinforcement is about as useful as pouring water on a grease fire? I mean, does anyone really respond all that well to threats and constant brow beating in a work environment? All that does for me is make me tense up, frustrate me, and put me on the defensive. Now, how exactly, is this conducive to better job performance? Heaven forbid you question their methods, because then you’re not open to criticism and not a team player, as well as not willing to work to improve upon your weaknesses. I love when people who have never taken management classes are allowed to manage others. It’s awesome!
I guess this is enough whining for now! Turn in next time for even more bitching and kvetching! No, no, hopefully the next blog will be of a more positive nature. I just needed to get all this out. Thanks for listening (reading).
Morrissey’s recent ailment as well as Dave Gahan’s recent health issues during this past year while on tour was reason to give me pause and realize that some of my biggest musical influences are getting on in years now. Dave Gahan is 47, Martin Gore is 48, Morrissey is 50, Henry Rollins is 48, Johnny Marr is 45, Mike Ness is 47, Robert Smith is 50, Bono is 49, and the Edge is 48. Well, at least Rivers Cuomo at 39, Matt Skiba at 33, and Dan Andriano at 32 are all close to or at my age! I know that it shouldn’t have escaped my attention that most of my influences were getting up there in terms of numbers. I mean, they have been actively contributing to the musical landscape since the late 70’s and I was not even born until 1976 and am now clocking in at 33 years old myself.
However, the realization of my aging alternative icons did give me a bit of a shake. I mean, if the HOT ANIMAL MACHINE Henry Rollins is aging…what the hell is to become of me? I remember being in high school and buying a cassette (yes, that’s right, a cassette) of the End of Silence off of some kid in the locker room. Low Self Opinion used to just, DESTROY me. And I still love to blast that song. And Weight and Come In & Burn are both fantastic records as well. And I know I need not speak of how I feel about Hank’s literary output. If this guy is getting on in years, man…that means we’re all aging!
And yes, of course I have realized that I am getting older, hell if the scant grey hairs in my goatee don’t tell me that the fact that my DAUGHTER will be eleven in February sure as hell does! And I have certainly stepped up my efforts this past year to stave off the effects of aging as best as I can. Between Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu twice a week, Muay Thai once a week, my additional daily works outs six times a week, and add to that my much improved eating habits and I am in the best physical condition of my entire life.
Yet there are still effects of the aging process that I feel every day. My joints often hurt and my legs are tired as hell after hitting the elliptical for a half hour. I also require much more sleep than I used to. I remember the days when I could run at peak efficiency on as little as two hours of sleep! I can still pull a day like that out if absolutely necessary but chances are I would be seriously hurting from it! These days with my waking up at five AM Monday to Friday I am usually nodding off by eleven PM. Gone are the days of the sleep deprivation machine that I once was!
Of course, there are advantages to getting older as well. I appreciate a lot of the little things as well as the big things so much more. My idea of “going out” or “doing something” has drastically changed as I have gotten older. Having a cup of coffee or dinner with a friend is big deal now and just spending a day walking around the Village with my wife is a treasure. And when I was in college I used to go to shows all the time! Did I enjoy and appreciate them; of course I did, but not nearly as much as I do now, because I don’t have the time to experience them as often. I also used to have all the time in the world to grab a cup of coffee or a meal with a friend, whereas now scheduling conflicts rule the day! Between who has a job with a whacky schedule, who’s married, who has kids, who’s in a band there are so many outside factors to planning a get together! So when we can make them happen, we really enjoy them!
Ugh, enough about my old decrepit ass! MOVING ON! When will people learn that negative reinforcement is about as useful as pouring water on a grease fire? I mean, does anyone really respond all that well to threats and constant brow beating in a work environment? All that does for me is make me tense up, frustrate me, and put me on the defensive. Now, how exactly, is this conducive to better job performance? Heaven forbid you question their methods, because then you’re not open to criticism and not a team player, as well as not willing to work to improve upon your weaknesses. I love when people who have never taken management classes are allowed to manage others. It’s awesome!
I guess this is enough whining for now! Turn in next time for even more bitching and kvetching! No, no, hopefully the next blog will be of a more positive nature. I just needed to get all this out. Thanks for listening (reading).
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
