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I struggle with the 39 thing a lot. As a result I put myself in positions where I’m forced to attempt athleticism and replenished youth when I physically cannot pull it off. That cycle is what finds me suiting up tomorrow evening for a all-too-public flag football game. I haven’t played with the Sunday Gang in over 9 months and my foray into basketball was abysmal. Yet, here I go again. Why, I ask myself? Because deep down inside I think it is too easy to let go of the person you want to be, and we ought to never settle for what direction life pushes us in. Believe me, it pushes real hard.

I’m just talking about the physical stuff here; about the result of choices made and habits formed. One day you wake up and realize 20 years of cupcakes and lemon bread was a really stupid idea. You think about making healthy choices now, but habit is a bitch. I mean nicotine, thats a physical addictive. The body craves it. Still, I’m a biofeedback guy. My body is a chump, but my mind… Yeah my mind is 3 pounds of electro-stimulated bad-assery. It pushes my body around the way Tyson used to manhandle punks in the ring. It tells me that I can or can’t and changing that momentum is hard work. Of course, this is the same brain that sabotages me and tells me I’m lazy, so there’s that.

I can still win though. I can still hurl myself in the path of utter humiliation and through this possible Epic Fail find a new momentum–a drive to be at my best physically… or at least shed the man boobs.

This isn’t a post about right or wrong, good or evil, Republican or Democrat or any of that stuff. It is the result of a dream I had last night that felt more like a town hall meeting. The people were debating the effectiveness of Obama and the choices he made over the last 7 years. Some were talking about his dovelike approach to world politics and longing for the days of the American hawks storming the world stage guns blazing. I think the dream was my way of processing what I’ve been hearing out of politicians and the media as of late. There is a lot of talk about how America is not aggressive enough on the world stage and how that is costing us influence on the world stage. There is truth in that but is it the whole truth?

 

Remember a few years ago when all the new was about how terrible it was for us to be sending unmanned drones around the world bombing people we felt were terrorists? Popular opinion was that this was a bad thing. Obama’s drone army was the wrong approach to the war on terror. Fast forward to today and the same president is being bashed for not having a strong enough military response to what is happening in the middle east and the Ukraine.

 

I don’t have great answers. I recognize that we don’t have the troops to backstop Ukraine, Isreal, and battle Isis. I also recognize that drones aren’t going to be enough. On the other hand, I don’t know what is going to happen if we don’t get involved. The one thing I do recognize for certain is that our national arrogance has reached the point where we feel it is both our right and obligation to do something. Why? Because we are Team America: World Police?

 

It is at least important to acknowledge the arrogance here. Whenever there is a conflict in the world the question of ‘should we help?’ inevitably pops up. That help always comes at great cost to our nation in the form of wealth and lives. The benefits to us as a nation are always limited and fleeting. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize that ISIS is ravaging the region we just left largely because the region has no interest in keeping the democracy we left there. Why would they suddenly want a secular government when they’ve been doing things a totally different way since long before Columbus landed on what he thought was India?

 

There is more to talk about here than 10 minutes allows, so I’ll add this to the list of topics that are to be continued…

Sitting in a Tuscon suburb this morning I watched the sun crawl crawl high into the sky and kiss the mountains. I looked at a handful of Starbucks faithful taking in the post dawn beside me a noticed, not for the first time, how they gauged me. At times I’ve been accused of being ‘in my own head’ about stuff, but here was a moment and an ongoing situation that was not the case at all. In fact, it started yesterday in the line to get my hotel room at a Tuscon resort.

We’d all decided to stay at the Westin La Paloma. There were three families and we all arrived within moments of each other at the resort. One of the families could be mistaken as purely caucasian, one actually was, and we are not. We pre-arranged to have our rooms blocked together, making it a family outing. When the first two families checked in they were given rooms immediately and given a pool access wristband for up to 5 family members. When I, checked in right behind them I was told no room was prepared for us. They had no idea when a room for us would possibly be ready. They offered me 4 passes and when I mentioned that we are a family of five, I was told that there was no possible way to get five passes. I asked if I could pay separately for a fifth pass and again I was told no. This despite the fact that the people directly in front of me — the people I came with– just walked off with five passes.

Three hours later we were still waiting for a room.

That’s the point where the people I came with and myself decided to stop being nice and start demanding action. The Westin claimed there wasn’t racism involved. They stopped short of suggesting that some of their best customers were black. I would’ve seen right through that lie and they knew it. After we resolved the issue (we got a room), I took a careful look around the resort and later observed the suburb itself in closer detail. I found myself at Starbucks this morning with a lot of people who were not like me and no people–even in passing cars–who were.

Sociology tells us that people gravitate towards those who are like them. When planning a society–or in this case a community–people sometimes seek to be amongst those like themselves and away from those they find different or threatening. This is the other side of racism. This is the practical side that people hide behind when creating these enclaves. This is what also blinds them to the fact that by creating exclusionary communities they exclude everyone in a particular group by creating a place where racism can not only survive, but thrive in such a way that the people responsible don’t even recognize that they are being racist. Instead they feel like they are fighting for their rights and freedoms to choose and to create a space that they feel safe in and that they can protect and populate in any way they see fit. It is the same misconception and dimness that birthed a thousand White Student Unions ignorant of the history and persecution that established their counterparts. That’s where ‘some of my best friends are black’ is born.

I can’t promise I’ll ever come back to the Westin La Paloma, but part of me wants to return for no better reason than to be present and be black and be that symbol of what we are as real people and not the MTV/CNN/FOX driven perceptions that leaves them so broken and confused. Maybe next time I won’t have to wait so many hours for a room.

I fielded a few questions about my well being tonight which led me to go back in the blog and think about what may have triggered this sense that everything isn’t okay. Looking at recent posts, I get how that impression was formed. However, everything is good. Better than good. I’ve reached a level of clarity that has me seeing neo-like into the world and recognizing the pathway to my greater happiness and fulfillment. What sucks and yet compels me is the journey ahead. Sitting here and waiting for Chinese delivery I find myself in a calm and pleasant state. Even on the days where things are really tough and anger provoking I’m finding ways to recognize those flecks of silver; those moments of true friendship, happiness, and joy that are the seeds upon which life is meant to grow.

We all live in the suck from time to time. We all have moments when we wish that things could be better, different, or just any way but as they are in that moment. What I think–no what I believe–now is that each of those moments have purpose. Every moment of joy, hurt, glee, misery, confusion, compulsion, and even wrath exist to move us towards the path and people we are meant to be or at least offer us an understanding of that path and of our true light. What terrifies me more than anything are the blind people–the ones who are unable to see the message in action and happenstance or worse, actively refuse to read the world. I can say that, because I spent a long time being that guy. I did whatever and road life like a roller coaster and not like the kaleidoscopic choose your own adventure dream realm it actually is.

The beauty of an electronic football game is knowing what every player can offer you prior to ever drafting them. Even if the game prevents such things there are cheats and walkthroughs created by the players who came before you, or workarounds that enable you to vet the players to the fullest possible extent before the time to draft arrives. This is not the way of real football. The real world is messy, unpredictable, cruel, and utterly fast paced. This world is the realm of the Fantasy Football game where overnight injuries (and waywrd keystrokes) can effect a draft and thus a season.

I waited days to write about my draft, largely because I picked up Andre Johnson in the early rounds. I did not do this on purpose. He, as my league leader likes to say, ‘Crapped the Bed’ last season and I have no doubt that will go down again. I was bitter about it for a while, and I am still not over that situation, but I am well enough to discuss it. Mistakes happen, and all we can go off of in fantasy football (and in real FB) is our assumptions based on last season’s situation and how good a player looked in the preseason.

I take heart in Andrew Bernstein’s assertion that, “The truth is that stress doesn’t come from your boss, your kids, your spouse, traffic jams, health challenges, or other circumstances. It comes from your thoughts about these circumstances.” Over the past few decades I’ve come around to understanding a few things. Often I fail to apply these basic truths to my life. At this point I’m at least aware of my failures and able to recognize them in myself and in others. Slowly, I’m correcting the little things and putting myself in position to have a better life than I’ve have–a fulfilled life. Part of that journey is sharing these sometimes meaningful and sometimes damn funny lessons. So, here we go.

Lesson 1: Kids smell weakness and will seek to exploit it
Like Santa, kids know everything going on in your reality. Any time you are feeling run down, tired, angry, etc. They will take it upon themselves to torture you until the point where murdering them or the more common murder/suicide seems like a viable solution. Here’s how that plays out:

Son: Dad, you look like you need a nap.

Dad: How thoughtful of you, son.

Son: Yeah, well, I need you to stay awake and help me not be bored…

Lesson 2: People who care about themselves too much view you as an accessory
This isn’t an intentional thing all the time. We can each get wrapped up in our own stuff. However, there are signs. If the person never asks you about your life, they A) don’t care about your life, B) don’t care to have a conversation about your life, C) don’t care to have a conversation at all unless it is about their stuff. You ought to recognize that this is akin to a genetic deficiency. There is no way you can genuinely change such a person, because any interaction would then be false. Better to just accept it or move on.

Lesson 3: Some people have nothing but work and those are the ones you don’t want to mess with.
I’d kill for my kids. I’m not just talking about slaying roaches and the rogue mosquito either. Some people don’t have kids, or cats, or dogs, or even a gerbil. They have their job, and in a real way that job becomes the focal point of all that biological energy normally attributed towards familial connection. These are the people who become mired in the work and are unable to adapt when the work environment changed in any meaningful way. I’ve clashed with these types in the past and realized early on that there is no way to lead them to reason short of employing the same tactic angry parents or ISIS terrorist seek to employ.

Lesson 4: Some stereotypes are real
Guys like football and beer. I’m not much for the beer but the social aspect of it appeals to me. Women like clothing and conversation. That’s just real.

I’m considering an expansion of the site. During my first day of the novel writing class I found myself telling my students that they need to learn how to stay active and communicate online. I remembered back to some of the domains I used in the past for such things–specifically the now defunct thoughtwired.com. With this site, talislegger, existing on a wordpress architecture I figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to create a second site or subset of this site where the students would be able to populate it with their own words, ideas, and stories. I’m still quite stoked about the idea, but with the advent of Social Media sites like facebook and Pintrest, I’m not sure creating a writing space for them that is off social media is entirely necessary. I can see the benefits of such a practice. They wouldn’t be held in check by the form of those sites and they could do a plethora of activities such as create blogs, vlogs, and columns. They could post stories privately or publicly without worrying about whether or not some site found their words inappropriate.

Maintenance is an issue. Students actually using the site is a bigger issue. Again, with the advent of social media individuals are drawn to those key and notable media and rarely have time to access yet another site. Still, I believe that gap can be bridged in the same way the 10 minute rule bridges it: they can post to facebook or wherever. They can generate an RSS feed. They can develop an online presence for the agents and publishers to come see.

I think I just sold myself on building a new site… now what to call it?

I keep on seeing AutoTrader.com. The appearance is almost subtle–like a fat ninja. The website keeps popping up in the shows I like. I saw it on Royal Pains. I saw it on Rizoli and Isles. I’m not talking about commercials here. I’m talking about scripted dialogue integrated into the storyline and driving the viewers towards autotrader.com. The reasoning behind this is simple: If the viewer identifies with the character and sees them experience the site, they might be more inclined to access the site and replicate the actions of the TV character. In each episode AutoTrader gave them a smashing deal. I’m beginning to wonder if this is the new direction of network and cable TV. If it is, does that take away from the artistry of the show? Are these shows even more commercial than in the past?

 

The drama that is Mistresses hasn’t changed much since it started but apparently I have. I don’t know how I stomached that stuff in the first place but it has quickly deteriorated into the typical ABC nonsense. Let me clarify that–I simply woke up and recognized the nonsense that has always been going on.

Like I mentioned once (or twice), the show follows four women through their torrid sex lives. Its Sex in the City but far less cool. The channel tried to add their brand of tokenism to the show, a vaguely African American woman and a first generation Asian woman. However, these two always end up being the most morally corrupt characters on the show. The Asian started the series by being the mistress to a married man who happened to be her psych patient. She went on to boff his son and then engaged in a seemingly endless string of one night stands that she herself called whorish. She wasn’t done. She slept with another client’s boyfriend and just recently one of her one night stands found her and let her know that she could have HIV.

Our black-ish character is a widow. Well, she was a widow… Apparently her husband faked his death, got a new family and left her and their daughter enough insurance cash to open a business. Once she discovered this she slept with her once dead hubby and went on to sleep with, well, every other black guy that hit the screen. She’s currently working with the lead character’s black ex (her lawyer) because the dead-ish husband turned out to be a drug mule wanted by the FBI, oh and at least one of the string of dudes she’s sleeping with turned out to be an FBI agent who was undercover ‘feeling her out’.

Ugh. Who writes this stuff.

At least I can say I finally hit rock bottom.

I thought I was there a few times before. There was the time my wife stuck a pencil in my flab and it didn’t fall out. That was bad. It triggered at least a week of good exercise. Then there was that moment my kids all called me fat. We can’t ever forget about the slew of outfit choices I can no longer wear. The thing is, I saw it getting worse. I was waiting, I think, for the moment my kids saw some lady in a bathing suit and reminded me that my boobs are bigger than hers. Its almost come to that a few times now, but that isn’t what made me hit bottom. No, bottom was worse than that.

It all started in the parking lot of a Sam’s Club. I was wearing black shoes with white sox and shorts that caught between the thigh more than they didn’t and a star trek shirt that’s seen too many miles to boldly go anywhere out of doors anymore. It was hot and I was sweating and feeling vaguely faint. As I strode towards the store I noticed a few people noticing me. To that point I’d never identified with the People of Walmart crowd, but as I continued inside that feeling settled over me. Fortunately nobody was flashing a cellphone cam my way.

The other day a friend called bullshit on the spreadsheet blog. She quipped that some of that is the men giving up and not being appealing anymore to their women. I’m extremely hopeful she wasn’t chucking javelins at me with the retort, but part of what she said sunk deep into my subconscious where it took root and waited for the right moment. That moment emerged during the Sam’s Club trip. It worsened when I stopped by Kohl’s to see if I could find a shirt that fit. You know things are bad when XXL feels too tight and leaves the definite impression of male pregnancy.

So, yeah. Bottom.

Saying it is one thing. Buying a bunch of stuff to ‘change my diet’ is one thing, but nothing really adds up until I get real intentional about my health. I haven’t been feeling good and that is in direct proportion to the weight going up. I know what is wrong with me. Now will I do something about it?